He heard the bed creak upstairs, and then his sister’s heavy footsteps. Darcy! his sister called. Darcy, honey, are you okay? Where are you, sweetie?
The silence lasted as long as man and child stared into each other’s eyes. The child saw the man’s fear and felt her mastery.
If I keep quiet, will you let me see it? she said.
Yes, he whispered. Later. Now pull up your underpants, quickly.
Darcy! Darcy! called the mother loudly.
He could hear her footsteps coming downstairs.
He had his hand on her underwear trying to pull it back up and she was trying to push his hand away and crying: No, no, no, no! when his sister opened the door.
That had been almost twenty years ago.
| 94 |
One night Smooth told that story to Tyler just as it had happened, but needless to say he had to elaborate upon the rich fresh animal odor of the little girl’s underpants, which approximated the steam-smell from meaty minestrone; and to Tyler’s mind this detail alone condemned the account as a lie, because how would Smooth have been able to sample and savor that smell without seeking it out? He didn’t consider the other equally plausible possibility that Smooth had incorporated this into the old memory, either on purpose, to twit Tyler and amuse himself, or inadvertently over the years, confusing what had really happened with what might have happened, or with what had happened with other little girls who had either liked him, or not.
| 95 |
The next time Tyler saw the Queen, he was looking for a parking place near Eight-Fifty Bryant, where an industrial job required him to check the recent court records of one Earl J. Simmons; and because the police cars had taken every available spot he started round the block, assuming that he would probably have to complete the circle for nothing and then go a different way, when he spied Our Lady whispering into the tall man’s ear in a doorway. The tall man noticed him right away (and once Tyler got to know him he would learn that the tall man never, ever forgot a name or a face). Tyler saw him touch her shoulder and point. She was wearing cheap dark wraparound sunglasses. There was a car behind him, but Tyler rolled down the window and waved. The Queen smiled. Her left hand rose to her cheek, and tilting her head, that gaunt, strange, small woman fluttered her little finger at him in a discreet wave.
| 96 |
That’s it, that’s it! Irene used to laugh when Mrs. Tyler made the dog twitch. There she goes! Oh, Mugsy!
She’s had these spots for a long time, said John. Maybe it’s from where they took out her ovaries or something. There’s something remaining. Are you a cutie? You’re happy, eh? You’re happy.
Fondly he scratched the old dog. John was very good to dogs.
That had been last year. Today Mugsy was at the vet. She had bone cancer, his mother said.
His mother was lying down resting. He felt so sad, so lonely and sad, so sad, watching the silhouettes of trees on the lawn across the street slowly join the darkness. Not so far away, he heard a long freight train.
The newspaper said that somebody else had gotten shot in Oak Park. The newspaper said that Wall Street was worried about the impending economic recovery because if there were more jobs, stock prices might go up, which would be bad for certain Fortune 500 companies, he didn’t understand why.
He went to see if his mother needed anything, but she was asleep, so he got into his car and drove to the Torch Club to have a beer. John had always been more partial to the Zebra Club, which was a jock kind of bar where to triumphant hurrahs the bartenders breast-squeezed pubescent girls on their birthdays and then poured double shots of the young things’ favorite concoctions down their throats as a reward; doubtless they weren’t allowed to do that anymore. Tyler didn’t care either way; John had been one of the hurrahers. But who knew what kinds went into the Zebra Club these days? Tyler found himself driving past, peering into the open door. He couldn’t see anything but he heard happy lustful shouts.
One good thing about Sacramento was that it was always easy to park. He stopped to get a quick shot of Scotch.
The President can’t be acting alone, said the man on the next stool. Who pulls his strings?
Which ones? said Tyler, thinking about Irene.
Who pulls the President’s strings? I’m asking you a question, guy.
The man was very drunk, angry and red in the face. Tyler pretended to give the matter due consideration and then concluded agreeably: Must be the Trilateral Commission.
No! the man roared, lunging. Tyler sidestepped him and tripped him. The man’s head hit the floor hard, and he lay there.
Why don’t you take a walk, guy, said the bartender. I’ll deal with this.
All right, said Tyler.
He went out and wondered what it was that he hoped for from the Queen. Expectation was growing in his heart. He had the feeling that he might be capable of change after all, and the thought of becoming different from what he was refreshed him so deeply that at this fatal moment he agreed with himself that it hardly mattered whether he were to change for the better or for the worse. But what did the Queen have to do with any of it? Suddenly he felt the the breath of evil was on his neck, and he walked down the street shuddering.
He went home and ate low-fat yogurt with his mother, then slept. In the morning he drove to the vet’s to get Mugsy. The dog stank of death. She could barely raise her head.
Well, Mom, it doesn’t look good, he said.
You have to expect those things at Mugsy’s age, his mother said, scarcely looking at him.
Last year, or maybe the year before, Irene and his mother had been lying together on his mother’s couch. John’s sleek little laptop computer glowed on the dining room table, while Tyler sat very slowly picking at his fingernails and staring at the moisture on a cold bottle of beer. The dog pillowed her head in his mother’s lap. Irene said: Mom, what would you do if your dog wasn’t around?
Maybe kiss John and Henry, laughed Mrs. Tyler, but since they’re only interested in working . . .
Irene smiled, rubbing her eyes.
| 97 |
On that second night, Dan Smooth was at the Torch Club, too. It seemed that one couldn’t get away from Dan Smooth.
Buy you a beer, boy? said the pervert.
You must be feeling flush, said Tyler. Sure, go ahead. I’ve made about two hundred dollars in the last month and a half.
I bet you were just reading about the economic recovery and feeling envious because you knew it didn’t include you. Isn’t that how it was, Henry? Isn’t it?
Come to think of it, Dan, how about if I buy my own beer? And after I pay for it, you can stay here and I’ll go to the Flame Club.
I think he likes me! Smooth stage-whispered to the bartender, who shrugged.
Tyler drank his beer steadily, looking away.
Sunflower woke up, said Smooth.
And then went back to sleep for good, huh?
She wanted it, Hank.
I get it. I don’t know if I agree with it but I get it.
And did you see the Queen again, or didn’t you see the Queen?
Yeah, I saw her. She waved one finger to me.
That means she likes you.
Everybody likes me, Dan, even you. I have so many friends, I keep trying to make enemies.
You know what, Hank?
I prefer to be called Henry, not Hank.
You don’t like me, do you, Henry? Smooth was saying in his wearisome way. Did you know that you just misquoted the old proverb.
I like you fine as long as we stick to business. But we don’t have any business right now, which is why I’m going to the Flame Club.
See you there, said Smooth, rising as if to accompany him.
Tyler sat down, narrowing his eyes. —I never had my very own stalker before, he muttered.
So how can we make your sister-in-law into business? asked Smooth with a cruel smile. I helped you out, you see, and so now I get to sock you in the balls—metaphorically, of course
. Did your sister-in-law’s cunt turn you on? Did it have that kind of mohawk pattern of little black hairs that so many Asian women’s cunts have? You know how they shave—well, the whores, anyway. They worry about bikini lines in Asia. Now, me, I’ve always thought that bikini lines have their charm—as zones, you know. I like to see those little black hairs peeking out. It happens sometimes, and it’s even sweeter when the woman’s not aware of it.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, said Tyler. Your filth gets pretty boring after a while.
Fine. Did you fuck her or not?
Maybe I’ll just go home. If you park in our driveway, that’s trespassing, but if you want to sit in your car and watch the house from across the street, there’s not much I can do. But I’m going to pull the blinds down. You won’t be able to see anything.
Henry, answer the nice man. Did you do your sister-in-law or not?
How many little kids have you popped, Smooth?
It’s childish, you see, to answer a question with a question. And just because you’ve met the Queen twice doesn’t mean she trusts you. I could put in a bad word about you if I felt like it . . .
And so what if you did? What do I care if the Queen trusts me or not?
You tell me, Henry. But if I want to get you, I’ll get you.
Is that a threat, Dan? I know how to deal with people who threaten me.
Now things are going ugly, Henry, and I don’t want that. I never dreamed of offering you physical violence. But you keep going out of your way to hurt my feelings. Put yourself in my place, Henry. Ask yourself how you’d be feeling.
Aw, he’s going to take his bat and ball and go home. Hey, I did some homework on you, Smooth. I heard about how you raped your own niece a few years back. Now I know why they call you Dan Smooth. At least you don’t use sandpaper. Do you use petroleum jelly when you break ’em in? People like you should be stood up against a wall. You’re a loser, Smooth, a sick, half-wit pervert. Oh, I admit that I’m a loser, too. The crazy whore was right. That shithead Brady was a loser. All I do is hang out with losers.
That’s my little optimist. (Bartender, one more round each, please. Here’s four dollars.) Does it get you hard to deprecate yourself? Does it, Henry? Does it?
Tyler rubbed his grey forehead, turning away. —Thanks for the beer, but I think you and I are through now, Smooth. I know that I owe you a favor. Anytime you want to call it in, call it in. But isn’t it kind of a waste to call it in just by making me listen to you flap your stupid ugly mouth?
Maybe we could be friends, said the older man with a sudden pleading look. I told you I saw that Mark of Cain on your forehead right away, that loser’s mark. You saw it on me. And right now the Queen’s brought us together, but she’s not going to be around forever. You don’t know yet what happens to the Queen.
Tyler leaned on one elbow on the bar. —So that’s what you want, huh? he said with a sour grin. You really want me to be your buddy? For how long? What’s the minimum time I can get away with? And do I have to start this very evening, or do you take rain checks?
Yes, Henry, I know you hang around prostitutes. But you’re not really one of them. When you pretend to be, you just act like a barbarian.
I guess that’s what keeps getting in the way of any possible friendship, Tyler said. You keep condescendingly defining my life, and you also enjoy irritating me by slashing at my privacy. And that pisses me off.
I think you’re implying that I should be more sincere. Well, Henry, maybe I’m sincere, but I just adopt a frivolous tone to protect myself.
Like when you talk about eating kids’ earwax.
Oh, I’ve done it, Henry. You can trust me there.
Yeah, all right. And this morning I took a crap, but I don’t have to go around telling other people about it.
Why not, Henry? I’d love to hear.
As long as we’re being sincere, I guess I believe that that’s true, and it kind of bothers me that it is.
Why does it bother you? You’ve never done anything to bother people?
I couldn’t say that, said Tyler with an almost jeering laugh.
Well then.
But if I do something that I don’t think other people will like, I keep it to myself.
If you needed to deal with me for business you could deal with me?
Sure.
And you have dealt with me. So that proves that you can deal with me, fellow Canaanite. You remember what happened to the Canaanites, don’t you?
Let’s see, said Tyler. Yeah. Yeah, I remember now. The Chosen People exterminated them all, or something like that. Moses got the word. No, they must not have exterminated them all, or there wouldn’t be all those car bombs in the Middle East.
You might be surprised, said Smooth, but I study the Bible a good deal.
No, I’m not surprised.
I know the Bible fairly well. Not just the New Testament, but the Old Testament, too, the real stuff, where God doesn’t hide His naked cruelty behind His Son. Do you believe in the Bible as literal prophecy?
Why, no, Dan, I don’t.
That’s good. I’m glad you’re not a fanatic, Henry. Well, the Queen is quite the little believer. It’s one of her sweetest qualities. (I could talk about the Queen endlessly, by the way.) Maybe that’s why I want to be your friend. I love to talk about my Queen, but I’m supposed to keep her secret, so you’re the only one.
Tyler waited.
I picked up my habit of Bible study from her, the older man continued. She’s a Canaanite, too, you know—did I tell you that? Sometimes I repeat myself. And she’s a witch like the Canaanites were—Baal, Moloch, you name it, she prays to it. I guess that’s why she knows so much about the future. I can see from your expression that you’re just being polite and you don’t really give a rat’s ass about that stuff. Well, that’s fine. But you did come on to me, and you came on to the Queen, and so I suppose you want to study us as if we’re bugs—or study her, at least. Read your Bible, Henry. That’s the best way to know the Queen. That’ll make her happy. And you don’t have to take any of it literally if you don’t want to. Now, as for us Canaanites, well, from our Queen we know that the Chosen People are coming to wipe us out. We may have a few car bombs ready, but I’m sorry to say that eventually they will wipe us out, because we’re the losers. Call it an analogy if you want.
Let’s see, said Tyler. The Canaanites sodomized little kids, too, didn’t they? And burned them alive?
You’re going nasty on me again, Henry.
Fair enough. But it’s true, isn’t it? I’m sorry.
That’s better, Smooth said with satisfaction. That’s the first time anybody’s said sorry to old Dan Smooth in quite some time.
All right. And if it pleases you, I’ll be sincere with you, as long as you’re sincere with me and don’t try to drag anything out of me.
Oh, so it’s not a reciprocal thing, Henry boy? You give me one thing and I have to give you two things?
I won’t try to drag anything out of you, either.
But that’s not fair. I’m loquacious, Henry.
Okay then. Did you feel any remorse when you ruined your niece’s life?
Would you believe that I never touched her?
No.
You’re good. I send lots of love your way. Would you believe that whatever I did to her she wanted?
No.
Well, would you believe it if in return I promised to believe whatever you told me about Irene?
Don’t say her name to me, sonofabitch. I never want to hear that name on anyone’s lips. It hurts too much.
I’m the Queen’s minister of foreign affairs, you know, Henry. Well, one of them. And if I make a recommendation to her about you one way or the other, she’ll probably listen, because she likes me and she doesn’t have envious ears, you see. I distinctly heard you ask her for help. Do you believe in the Queen?
Tyler hesitated. —I don’t know, he muttered. When I see her, I believe in her, in something about her. When I’
m away from her, I think it’s all bullshit.
You’re honest, Henry. I like that.
Thanks, Dan. I aim to please.
Spoken like a good whore.
Something else we have in common. We both have a soft spot for Domino.
Ah, said Smooth.
I’m not in love with that girl but I kind of like her. She’s so out there.
She’s had a hard life.
What got her started?
Well, it was very . . . She was found not guilty, but another judge found her guilty of violating her probation, so first he threatened her with prison, then he stuck her in a drug program, and she ran away . . .
How old was she then?
Fourteen.
That’s a shame.
You’ve noticed that I never asked why you were looking for the Queen?
Yeah, I noticed.
Then trust me now. Go on, drink that beer. What are you really up to?
I don’t even know myself, Tyler sighed. When it started, I thought that guy Brady was just a sucker and I could give him some thrills and get some money out of him without doing any harm. I never thought there was a Queen. But after a while he half convinced me, and then he canned me. And so I lost my reason for looking for the Queen. No money anymore. Then Irene died, and I needed something to do.
That’s how it is for me with children, said Smooth. It’s just something to do, although now I don’t think I could stop it, even if I were castrated. You heard about this new chemical castration bill they’re debating up here?
Dan, just what do you do with those kids?
Whatever. But only if they want it. I swear that by God and by the fires of all my little idols. And tell me, why do you think Mr. Brady wants to meet our Queen so much?
Oh, he can pay big. Not that I ever got much of it. He wants her for some sex act.
He’s the Chosen One, you see, Dan Smooth explained. He’s come to burn us all out of Canaan.
| 98 |
Silently he opened a Bible, drew his slender forefinger down Psalm 106, verses 34–39:
The Royal Family Page 24