Suttree (1979)

by McCarthy, Cormac

  What now? said Suttree.

  Let me think a minute, said Reese.

  That's all we need.

  We aint tried the poolhall.

  The poolhall?

  Yeah.

  Suttree turned and walked away down the street. Reese caught him up and was at his elbow with plans and explanations.

  Suttree turned. How much money do you have on you?

  He stopped.

  Come on. How much?

  Why Sut, you know I aint got no money.

  Not a dime?

  Why no.

  Well I've got fifteen cents and I'm going over here and have coffee and doughnuts. You can sit and watch if you like. Then we'd better get on the goddamned road before it gets dark and try and get a ride out of here.

  Hell Sut, we caint go back emptyhanded.

  But Suttree had already stepped into the street. Reese watched him cross and enter the cafe on the other side.

  Suttree borrowed a paper from a stack by the till as he went in and he sat at the counter. A fat man asked him what he would have.

  Coffee.

  He wrote on the ticket.

  Do you have any doughnuts?

  Plain or chocolate.

  Chocolate.

  He wrote that. Suttree craned his neck to see the price.

  The fat man went down the counter and Suttree opened his paper.

  He drank three cups of coffee and read the paper from front to back. Finally he folded the paper and went to the front and paid his bill and put the paper back and went out. He stood in the street picking his teeth and looking up and down. He waited around for the better part of an hour. The stores were closing. He eyed the failing sun. That son of a bitch, he said.

  He was passing a small cafe when something about a figure within stopped him. He stepped back and peered through the glass. At a booth in the little lunchroom was Reese. He was buttering up large chunks of cornbread. Before him sat a platter of steak and gravy with mashed potatoes and beans. A waitress shuffled down the corridor toward him with a tall mug of coffee. Reese looked up to say some pleasantry. His eyes wandered from her to the scowling face at the window and he gave a sort of little jump in his seat and then grinned and waved.

  Suttree threw back the door and went down the aisle.

  Hey Sut. Where the hell did you get to? I hunted everwhere for you.

  Sure you did. Where did you get the money? I thought you were broke.

  Set down, set down. Honey? He raised a hand. He pointed at Suttree's head. Bring him what he wants. Boy, I'm glad I found you. Here, tell her what you want.

  I dont want a goddamned thing. Listen.

  They aint no need to cuss about it, the waitress said.

  Suttree ignored her. He leaned to Reese who was loading his jaw with a forkful of steak. You're driving me crazy, he said.

  Honey, bring him a cup of coffee.

  I dont want a cupping fuck of coffee. Look Reese ...

  Reese lowered his head and gave Suttree a queer clown's wink and nod. Sold em, he whispered. Looky here.

  Look at what?

  Down here. Looky here.

  Suttree had to lean back and look under the table where this grinning fool was holding pinched in his hand so just the corner showed a twenty dollar bill.

  What the hell are you hiding it for? Is it counterfeit?

  Shhh. Hell no son, it's good as gold.

  Who'd you hit in the head?

  Old buddy, we goin to take this to the tong games and come off with some real money.

  We better get our ass down to the bus station is what we better do.

  Honey, bring him a cup of coffee.

  He said he didnt want none.

  Suttree slumped back in the booth.

  Bring him some, said Reese, waving a piece of cornbread. He'll drink it.

  They stood in the street under the small lamps. A deathly quiet prevailed over the town.

  I wisht it wasnt summer and we could go to the cockfights, Reese said. He sucked his teeth and looked up and down the street. Got to find us a goddamned taxi. He patted his little paunch and belched and squinted about.

  Let me have a nickel and I'll go in and call one.

  Reese doled the coin easily. Suttree wore a look of dry patience. He went in and called the taxi.

  When it arrived Reese opened the front door and hopped in and was whispering loudly to the driver. Suttree climbed in the back and shut the door.

  Let me just take you fellers on up to the Green Room, the driver was saying. You can get anything you want up there.

  What do you say, Sut?

  Suttree looked at the back of Reese's head and then he just looked out the window.

  Course you can go anywhere you want, said the driver.

  Daggone right you can, said Reese. When ye got the money to do it with. He turned and favored Suttree with a sleazy grin.

  What kind of whiskey you boys want? You want bonded or some real good moonshine?

  Is it real good sure enough?

  Bonded, said Suttree from the back.

  They were going by narrow back streets in the small town suppertime dark, by curtained windowlights where families sat gathered. Suttree rolled down the window and breathed the air all full of blossoms.

  The driver took them up a gravel drive to the back of an old house. A yellow bulb hung burning from the naked night above them. The driver got out and a man came from the door and the two of them went across the yard and behind a garage. When they came back the driver was holding a pint of whiskey down by the side of his leg.

  He got in and palmed the whiskey to Reese. Reese held it to the light and studied the label professionally as he unscrewed the cap. They went back down the driveway with Reese's head thrown back and the bottom of the bottle standing straight up.

  Get ye a drink, he wheezed, poking the bottle over the seat at Suttree.

  Suttree drank and handed it back.

  Reese held the bottle up and eyed it and held it under the driver's chin. Get ye a drink old buddy, he said.

  The driver said he didnt drink on duty.

  They drove out through the small streets and struck the highway, Reese and Suttree passing the bottle back and forth and Reese giving the driver a history of himself no part of which was even vaguely true.

  Say you all never been to the Green Room? said the driver.

  We aint been up here in a long time, said Reese.

  They got some little old gals up here will do anything. They'd as soon suck a peter as look at ye.

  Reese was elbowing the dark of the cab behind him vigorously. You hear that, Sut? he said.

  They went out the highway several miles and turned onto a side-road that had one time been the highway. At the top of the hill stood a squat cinderblock building with neon piping along the roof. The windows were painted black and one of them was broken and fixed back with blocks of wood stovebolted through the holes. There was an iron pole in the drive with a beersign hung from the crosstrees and perhaps half a hundred cars parked in the gravel. The cabdriver switched on the domelight and looked at Reese.

  What we owe ye, old buddy?

  Let me have five. That'll get the whiskey and everthing.

  Reese paid and they stepped out into the gravel. The taxi slewed about in a cloud of dust and flying stones and went back out to the highway. Reese tucked in his shirt and hitched up his trousers and seized the doorhandle to make his entrance but the door was locked.

  Ring the buzzer, said Suttree.

  He pushed the button and almost immediately the door opened and a man looked at them and stepped back and they entered.

  A concrete floor, a horseshoeshaped bar upholstered in quilted black plastic, a gaudy jukebox that played country music A few sloe-eyed young whores in stage makeup and incredible costumes, ballroom gowns, bathing suits, satin pajamas. They lounged at the bar, they sat in the booths by the wall, they danced with clowns dressed up like farmers wooden clown dances in the shifting
jukebox lights. Through a door to the rear Suttree could see thicker smoke yet and the green baize of gaming tables.

  Godamighty damn, said Reese reverently. Looky here.

  Suttree was looking. He'd been in places like this but not quite. A whole new style seemed to be seeking expression here. They crossed to the bar and were immediately set upon by whores. A blackhaired girl in a chiffon dress with a train that followed her about the floor sweeping up the cigarette butts had Suttree by the elbow. Hidy cutie, she said. Why dont you buy me a drink? Suttree looked down into a pair of enormous painted eyes dripping a black goo. A pair of perfectly round white tits pushed up in the front of her gown. You'll have to see this man here, he said. He's the last of the big spenders.

  She immediately turned loose of Suttree and got hold of Reese's arm even though there were two other girls hanging onto him. Hidy cutie, she said. Why dont you buy me a drink?

  I'll buy ye'ns all a drink quick as I get done at the tong table, cried Reese.

  The bartender was standing at the ready and Suttree held up one hand and caught his eye. He raised his chin to know what Sut would have.

  Bourbon and gingerale, said Suttree.

  Where you all from, honey? said a blonde who appeared out of the smoke.

  Suttree looked at her. Web City, he said.

  You're a smart son of a bitch, aint ye?

  He watched Reese at the cardtable until he became bored and went back out to the bar. But the whores had thickened and he got another drink and went back into the gambling room again. Reese seemed to have won some money and Suttree tapped him on the shoulder to get some quarters and dimes for the slotmachines. The dealer raised up and eyed him narrowly and told him to back off from the table if he wasnt playing. Reese handed him two dollars over his shoulder and Suttree took the money and went into another room and got change from a lady at a cardtable by the door. There were eight or ten slotmachines along the walls and several young men in dark gabardine shirts and their heads almost shaven were feeding money to the whores and the whores were operating the machines. Suttree won about seven dollars and went back out to the bar and got another drink. He was beginning to feel a little drunk. He bought the blackhaired girl a drink and she took him by the arm and they sat in a booth at the far wall and she immediately ordered two more drinks from a waitress dressed in a swimsuit and black net stockings. The black-haired girl put her hand on Suttree's leg and got him by the neck and ran her tongue down his throat. Then she stuck her tongue in his ear and asked him if he wanted to go out in the back.

  Reese came reeling through the smoke and the din with a painted childwhore on his arm. She had an eyetooth out and smiled with her cigarette in her mouth to hide the gap.

  Looky here, Sut.

  Hidy.

  Aint that a purty little old thing?

  Suttree smiled.

  Reese had her by the hand. He leaned toward Suttree. Listen, he said, you wouldnt tell on a feller would ye?

  Maybe not. Where's the whiskey?

  Here. Hell fire, get ye a drink. He brought the bottle forth from his overalls and handed it over.

  You raise tobacco too? the girl said.

  Sure, said Suttree.

  Reese was making peculiar faces and jerking his shoulder at Suttree. Suttree spun the cap back on the bottle and slid from the booth. I've got to talk to my partner here a minute, he told the girl.

  They conferred a few feet from the table. Let's hear the bad news, said Suttree.

  Bad news's ass. Looky here.

  He was cupping his hand at the mouth of his pocket, a roll of bills crouched there like a pet mouse. Old buddy, I strictly slipped it to em in yonder, he said.

  The whore on his arm leaned across to whisper in Suttree's ear. You ought to get with Doreen yonder, she said, nodding toward a puffy blonde at the bar. She's real sweet.

  We got to get us another bottle of whiskey, said Reese. Both she and Reese had taken to hoarse stage whispers and Suttree had to bend his head forward to hear them at all what with the howl of electric guitars from the jukebox. As he did so the old man seized him by the head and pulled him close and rasped in his ear: Go on and get her Sut. We'll strictly put the dick to em.

  When he woke a light had come on in the cabin and a man and a girl were standing in the door. That goddamned Doreen leaves her goddamned dates in the cabins all the time, the girl said. Suttree groaned and tried to put his head beneath the pillow.

  Hey, said the girl. You caint stay here.

  His head was at the edge of the thin mattress. He looked down at the floor. The floor was pink linoleum with green and yellow flowers. There was a glass there and a halfpint bottle with a drink in the bottom. He reached down and got the bottle and held it against his naked chest.

  Hey, said the girl.

  Okay, said Suttree. Let me get my clothes.

  He wandered off through the weeds in the dark. Out on the highway the sound of trucktires whined and died in the distance. He fell into a gully and climbed out and went on again.

  When he woke it was daylight and he was lying in a field. He rose up and looked out across the sedge. Two little girls and a dog were going along a dirt lane. Beyond them the sunhammered landscape veered away in a quaking shapeless hell. A low gray barn, a fence. A fieldwagon standing in milkweed. Yonder the town. He rose to his feet and stood swaying, a great pain in his eyeballs and upon his skull like the pressure of marine deeps. He tottered off across the fields toward the roadhouse.

  He found Reese asleep in a wrecked car behind the cabins. Suttree shook him gently awake into a world he wanted no part of. The old man fought it. He pushed away and buried his head in one arm there on the dusty ruptured seat. Suttree could not help but grin for all that his head hurt so.

  Come on, he said. Let's go.

  The old man moaned.

  What? Suttree said.

  You go on and I'll come later, tell em.

  Okay. You comfortable?

  I'm all right.

  You want a sip of this cold lemonade fore I go?

  An eye opened. The musty gutted hulk of the car stank of mold and sweat and cheap whiskey. Wasps kept coming in the naked rear window and vanishing through a crack in the domelight overhead.

  What? said Reese.

  I said would you like a sip of this cold lemonade?

  The old man tried to see without moving his head but he gave it up. Shit, he said. You aint got no lemonade.

  Suttree pulled him around by one arm. Come on, he said. Get your ass up from there and let's go.

  A bloated face turned up. Ah God. Just leave me here to die.

  Let's go, Reese.

  Where are we at?

  Let's go.

  He struggled up, looking around.

  How you feeling, old partner? said Suttree.

  Reese looked up into Suttree's grinning face. He put his hands over his eyes. Where you been? he said.

  Come on.

  Reese shook his head. Boy, we a couple of good'ns aint we?

  You dont have a little drink hid away do you?

  Shit.

  Here.

  He lowered his hands. Suttree was holding the almost empty bottle at him. Why goddamn, Sut, he said. He reached for the bottle with both hands and twisted off the cap and drank.

  Leave me corners, said Suttree.

  Reese closed his eyes, screwed up his face and shivered and swallowed. He blew and held the bottle up. Goddamn, he said. I dont remember it bein that bad last night.

  Suttree took the bottle from him and let the little it held fill up one corner and then he tilted it and drank and pitched the empty bottle out through the open window into the weeds. Well, he said. Think you can make it now?

  We'll give it a try.

  He pulled himself painfully from the doorless car and stood squinting in the heat little pleased with what he saw. Where do you reckon they sell beer on Sunday up here?

  Right here probably, Suttree said, nodding toward the roadhouse.r />
  They passed among the cabins and staggered across the dusty waste of gravel and trash with their tongues out like dogs. Suttree tapped at a door at the rear of the premises. They waited.

  Knock again, Sut.

  He did.

  A slide shot back in the side of the building and a man peered out. What'll you have, boys? he said.

  You got any cold beer?

  It's all cold. What kind?

  What kind? said Suttree.

  Any goddamned kind, said Reese.

  You got Miller's?

  What you want, a sixpack?

  Suttree looked at Reese. Reese was looking at him blandly. Suttree said: Have you got any money?

  No. Aint you?

  He felt himself all over. Not a fucking dime, he said.

  The bootlegger looked from one to the other of them.

  Where's that pearl? said Suttree.

  The old man raised his foot and put it down again. He leaned against the side of the building and raised his foot and reached down in his sock. He held up his purse.

  How come you to still have that, said Suttree. Did you not get any poontang last night?

  You daggone right I got me some. But I never took off my shoes. He undid the mouth of the thing and rolled out the pearl and held it up. Looky here, he said.

  What's that supposed to be? said the bootlegger.

  A pearl. Go on. Take a look at it.

  You sons of bitches get on away from here, said the bootlegger, and slammed the little window shut.

  They looked at each other for a minute and then Suttree squatted in the dust among the flattened cans.

  Shit, said Reese.

  Suttree palmed his knees and shook his head. We're hellatious traders, he said.

  Boy I hate a dumb son of a bitch like that that dont know the value of nothin.

  Let's get the hell out of here. It's a long way home.

  Coming over the Pigeon River Bridge into Newport a county police cruiser passed them. The old man saw them coming. Wave like they know ye, he said.

  Fuck that, said Suttree.

  The cruiser went by and Reese waved real big. The cruiser turned at the edge of the bridge and came back and pulled up alongside. A fat deputy looked them over. Who you think you wavin at buddy?