Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (11 page)

Cant konkim here. Just have ta wait until he passes out or maybe just
ask for some money. The way they throw it around. Just gotta getim in
a room alone. If he dont pass out I/ll just rapim with somethin—and
you should see what we did to that little ol . . . He talked on and
Tralala smoked and the lampposts flicked by and the meter ticked. He
stopped talking when the cab stopped in front of the Crossroads. They
got out and tried to get in the Crossroads but the bartender looked
at the drunken seaman and shook his head no. So they crossed the
street and went to another bar. The bar was jammed, but they found a
small table in the rear and sat down. They ordered drinks and Tralala
sipped hers then pushed her unfinished drink across the table to him
when he finished his. He started talking again but the lights and the
music slowly affected him and the subject matter was changed and he
started telling Tralala what a good lookin girl she was and what a
good time he was going to show her; and she told him that she would
show him the time of his life and didnt bother to hide a yawn. He
beamed and drank faster and Tralala asked him if he would give her
some money. She was broke and had to have some money or she/d be
locked out of her room. He told her not to worry that hed find a
place for her to stay tonight and he winked and Tralala wanted to
shove her cigarette in his face, the cheap sonofabitch, but figured
she/d better wait and get his money before she did anything. He toyed
with her hand and she looked around the bar and noticed an Army
Officer staring at her. He had a lot of ribbons just like the one she
had rolled and she figured hed have more money than Harry. Officers
are usually loaded. She got up from the table telling Harry she was
going to the ladies room. The Officer swayed slightly as she walked
up to him and smiled. He took her arm and asked her where she was
going. Nowhere. O, we cant have a pretty girl like you going nowhere.
I have a place thats all empty and a sack of whiskey. Well . . . She
told him to wait and went back to the table. Harry was almost asleep
and she tried to get the money from his pocket and he started to
stir. When his eyes opened she started shaking him, taking her hand
out of his pocket, and telling him to wakeup. I thought yawere goin
to show me a good time. You bet. He nodded his head and it slowly
descended toward the table. Hey Harry, wakeup. The waiter wants to
know if yahave any money. Showem ya money so I wont have to pay. You
bet. He slowly took the crumpled mess of bills from his pocket and
Tralala grabbed it from his hand and said I toldya he had money. She
picked up the cigarettes from the table, put the money in her
pocketbook and walked back to the bar. My friend is sleeping so I
dont think he/ll mind, but I think we/d better leave. They left the
bar and walked to his hotel. Tralala hoped she didnt make a mistake.
Harry mightta had more money stashed somewhere. The Officer should
have more though and anyway she probably got everything Harry had and
she could get more from this jerk if he has any. She looked at him
trying to determine how much he could have, but all Officers look the
same. Thats the trouble with a goddamn uniform. And then she wondered
how much she had gotten from Harry and how long she would have to
wait to count it. When they got to his room she went right into the
bathroom, smoothed out the bills a little and counted them. 45. Shit.
Fuckit. She folded the money, left the bathroom and stuffed the money
in a coat pocket. He poured two small drinks and they sat and talked
for a few minutes then put the light out. Tralala figured there was
no sense in trying anything now so she relaxed and enjoyed herself.
They were having a smoke and another drink when he turned and kissed
her and told her she had the most beautiful pair of tits he had ever
seen. He continued talking for a few minutes, but she didnt pay any
attention. She thought about her tits and what he had said and how
she could get anybody with her tits and the hell with Willies and
those slobs, she/d hang around here for a while and do alright. They
put out their cigarettes and for the rest of the night she didnt
wonder how much money he had. At breakfast the next morning he tried
to remember everything that had happened in the bar, but Harry was
only vaguely remembered and he didnt want to ask her. A few times he
tried speaking, but when he looked at her he started feeling vaguely
guilty. When they had finished eating he lit her cigarette, smiled,
and asked her if he could buy her something. A dress or something
like that. I mean, well you know ... Id like to buy you a little
present. He tried not to sound maudlin or look sheepish, but he found
it hard to say what he felt, now, in the morning, with a slight
hangover, and she looked to him pretty and even a little innocent.
Primarily he didnt want her to think he was offering to pay her or
think he was insulting her by insinuating that she was just another
prostitute; but much of his loneliness was gone and he wanted to
thank her. You see, I only have a few days leave left before I go
back and I thought perhaps we could—that is I thought we could
spend some more time together ... he stammered on apologetically
hoping she understood what he was trying to say but the words bounced
off her and when she noticed that he had finished talking she said
sure. What thefuck. This is much better than wresslin with a drunk
and she felt good this morning, much better than yesterday (briefly
remembering the bulls and the money they took from her ) and he might
even give her his money before he went back overseas (what could he
do with it) and with her tits she could always makeout and
whatthehell, it was the best screwin she ever had . . . They went
shopping and and she bought a dress, a couple of sweaters (2 sizes
too small), shoes, stockings, a pocket-book and an overnight bag to
put her clothes in. She protested slightly when he told her to buy a
cosmetic case (not knowing what it was when he handed it to her and
she saw no sense in spending money on that when he could as well give
her cash), and he enjoyed her modesty in not wanting to spend too
much of his money; and he chuckled at her childlike excitement at
being in the stores, looking and buying. They took all the packages
back to the hotel and Tralala put on her new dress and shoes and they
went out to eat and then to a movie. For the next few days they went
to movies, restaurants (Tralala trying to make a mental note of the
ones where the Officers hungout), a few more stores and back to the
hotel. When they woke on the 4th day he told her he had to leave and
asked her if she would come with him to the station. She went
thinking he might give her his money and she stood awkwardly on the
station with him, their bags around them, waiting for him to go on
the train and leave. Finally the time came for him to leave and he
handed her an envelope and kissed her before boarding the train. She
felt the envelope as she lifted her face slightly so he could kiss
her. It was thin and she figured it might be a check. She put it in
her pocketbook, picked up her bag and went to the waiting room and
sat on a bench and opened the envelope. She opened the paper and
started reading: Dear Trai: There are many things I would like to say
and should have said, but — A letter. A goddamn LETTER. She ripped
the envelope apart and turned the letter over a few times. Not a
cent. I hope you understand what I mean and am unable to say—she
looked at the words—if you do feel as I hope you do Im writing my
address at the bottom. I dont know if I/ll live through this war,
but—Shit. Not vehemently but factually. She dropped the letter and
rode the subway to Brooklyn. She went to Willies to display her
finery. Ruthy was behind the bar and Waterman Annie was sitting in a
booth with a seaman. She stood at the bar talking with Ruthy for a
few minutes answering her questions about the clothes and telling her
about the rich john she was living with and how much money he gave
her and where they went. Ruthy left occasionally to pour a drink and
when she came back Tralala continued her story, but soon Ruthy tired
of listening to her bullshit as Tralalas short imagination bogged
down. Tralala turned and looked at Annie and asked her when they
leter out. Annie told her ta go screw herself. Youre the only one who
would. Annie laughed and Trala told her ta keep her shiteatin mouth
shut. The seaman got up from the booth and staggered toward Tralala.
You shouldnt talk to my girl friend like that. That douchebag? You
should be able ta do betteran that. She smiled and pushed her chest
out. The seaman laughed and leaned on the bar and asked her if she
would like a drink. Sure. But not in this crummy place. Lets go ta
some place thats not crawlin with stinkin whores. The seaman roared,
walked back to the table, finished his drink and left with Tralala.
Annie screamed at them and tried to throw a glass at Tralala but
someone grabbed her arm. Tralala and Jack (he was an oiler and he . .
. ) got into a cab and drove downtown. Tralala thought of ditching
him rightaway (she only wanted to break Annies balls), but figured
she ought to wait and see. She stayed with him and they went to a
hotel and when he passedout she took what he had and went back
uptown. She went to a bar in Times Square and sat at the bar. It was
filled with servicemen and a few drunken sailors smiled at her as she
looked around, but she ignored them and the others in the bar ignored
her. She wanted to be sure she picked up a live-one. No drunken
twobit sailor or doggie for her. O no. Ya bet ya sweetass no. With
her clothes and tits? Who inthe-hell do those punks think they are. I
oughtta go spit in their stinkin faces. Shit! They couldnt kiss my
ass. She jammed her cigarette out and took a short sip of her drink.
She waited. She smiled at a few Officers she thought might have loot,
but they were with women. She cursed the dames under her breath,
pulled the top of her dress down, looked around and sipped her drink.
Even with sipping the drink was soon gone and she had to order
another. The bartender refilled her glass and marked her for an
amateur. He smiled and was almost tempted to tell her that she was
trying the wrong place, but didnt. He just refilled her glass
thinking she would be better off in one of the 8th avenue bars. She
sipped the new drink and lit another cigarette. Why was she still
alone? What was with this joint? Everybody with a few bucks had a
dame. Goddamn pigs. Not one ofem had a pair half as big as hers. She
could have any sonofabitch in Willies or any bum stumbling into the
Greeks. Whats with the creeps in here. They should be all around her.
She shouldnt be stitting alone. She/d been there 2 hours already. She
felt like standing up and yelling fuck you to everybody in the joint.
Youre all a bunch of goddamn creeps. She snarled at the women who
passed. She pulled her dress tight and forced her shoulders back.
Time still passed. She still ignored the drunks figuring somebody
with gelt would popup. She didnt touch her third drink, but sat
looking around, cursing every sonofabitch in the joint and growing
more defiant and desperate. Soon she was screaming in her mind and
wishing takrist she had a blade, she/d cut their goddamn balls off. A
CPO came up to her and asked her if she wanted a drink and she damn
near spit in his face, but just mumbled as she looked at the clock
and said shit. Yeah, yeah, lets go. She gulped down her drink and
they left. Her mind was still such a fury of screechings (and that
sonofabitch gives me nothin but a fuckin letter) that she just lay in
bed staring at the ceiling and ignored the sailor as he screwed her
and when he finally rolled off for the last time and fell asleep she
continued staring and cursing for hours before falling asleep. The
next afternoon she demanded that he giver some money and he laughed.
She tried to hit him but he grabbed her arm, slapped her across the
face and told her she was out of her mind. He laughed and told her to
take it easy. He had a few days leave and he had enough money for
both of them. They could have a good time. She cursed him and spit
and he told her to grab her gear and shove off. She stopped in a
cafeteria and went to the ladies room and threw some water on her
face and bought a cup of coffee and a bun. She left and went back to
the same bar. It was not very crowded being filled mostly with
servicemen trying to drink away hangovers, and she sat and sipped a
few drinks until the bar started filling. She tried looking for a
liveone, but after an hour or so, and a few drinks, she ignored
everyone and waited. A couple of sailors asked her if she wanted a
drink and she said whatthefuck and left with them. They roamed around
for hours drinking and then she went to a room with two of them and
they gave her a few bucks in the morning so she stayed with them for
a few days, 2 or 3, staying drunk most of the time and going back to
the room now and then with them and their friends. And then they left
or went somewhere and she went back to the bar to look for another
one or a whole damn ship. Whats the difference. She pulled her dress
tight but didnt think of washing. She hadnt reached the bar when
someone grabbed her arm, walked her to the side door and told her to
leave. She stood on the corner of 42nd & Broadway cursing them
and wanting to know why they let those scabby whores in but kick a
nice young girl out, ya lousy bunch apricks. She turned and crossed
the street, still mumbling to herself, and went in another bar. It
was jammed and she worked her way to the back near the jukebox and
looked. When someone came back to play a number she smiled, threw her
shoulders back and pushed the hair from her face. She stood there
drinking and smiling and eventually left with a drunken soldier. They
screwed most of the night, slept for a short time then awoke and
started drinking and screwing again. She stayed with him for a day or
two, perhaps longer, she wasnt sure and it didnt make any difference
anyway, then he was gone and she was back in a bar looking. She
bounced from one bar to another still pulling her dress tight and
occasionally throwing some water on her face before leaving a hotel
room, slobbering drinks and soon not looking but just saying yeah,
yeah, whatthefuck and pushing an empty glass toward the bartender and
sometimes never seeing the face of the drunk buying her drinks and
rolling on and off her belly and slobbering over her tits; just
drinking then pulling off her clothes and spreading her legs and
drifting off to sleep or a drunken stupor with the first lunge. Time
passed—months, maybe years, who knows, and the dress was gone and
just a beatup skirt and sweater and the Broadway bars were 8th avenue
bars, but soon even these joints with their hustlers, pushers, pimps,
queens and wouldbe thugs kicked her out and the inlaid linoleum
turned to wood and then was covered with sawdust and she hung over a
beer in a dump on the waterfront, snarling and cursing every