The Royal Family

by William T. Vollmann

  The man leaped up, overtowering her, and snatched the shoe out of her hand, so Chocolate began to scream as loudly as she could, and right away the manager came and she was safe . . .

  | 339 |

  And Jesus elevated Mary Magdalene above the rest, said Smooth. You know why?

  Because she was a whore, said Tyler, bored. He could not imagine why he had wished to solicit the man’s advice on anything. Smooth was as lively as a bumblebee, buzzing and buzzing about. He exhausted Tyler like Mission Street’s slow and stinking sunlight.

  Not only that.

  Not only what?

  It wasn’t just that she was a prostitute. Henry, are you listening to me?

  Yeah.

  Also because she was His servant, you see. Because she washed His feet with her hair. And when the Queen spits in your mouth, she’s giving you a chance to be elevated—

  Well, Domino never swallows, said Tyler. She told me for her it’s the same as a blow job. She just tucks it under her tongue and then spits it out when she can.

  Well, then, she can’t be elevated, now, can she, asshole? said Smooth.

  And do you admire Domino?

  Oh, she and I go pretty far back, said Smooth. I’d have to say I—well, I—

  They were on Powell Street. A little girl with tight shimmery golden laces on her sneakers took lipstick from the duty free bag and opened it, at which her mother nodded and lovingly explained.

  I’d like to get into that, Smooth said.

  I bet you would, said Tyler.

  Ah, but it would be as illegal as a bail bondsman’s referral to any particular lawyer. You like illegal candy, don’t you, Henry?

  I’m sick of your insinuations. Can’t you lay off for five minutes?

  You’re being rude to me. And, you know, all this will end. Right now she’s your shield, but once she’s gone, you know what’s going to happen, pal? Irene will come right back and haunt you. No matter where you run, she’ll spot that Mark of Cain. Don’t worry; she won’t kill you, because God prohibited that. She’ll just torture you. She’ll say: You were supposed to be my keeper and you—

  | 340 |

  Mike Hernandez in Vice gave him the telephone number of a retired undercover cop named Morena who might know something about Brady. As soon as Tyler mentioned the name, Morena perked up. —Sure, he said. Don’t you remember that cop who got shot? Officer Marcus, his name was. One of his last duties was to work surveillance on Brady’s house. Who knows what he saw and what he knew? He drove to a big mall, I think maybe it was Stonestown. And the mall was closed. There was an eyewitness who saw something. I think his name was, oh, fuck, I forget the chump’s name.

  Shot, huh? said Tyler.

  Right in the everlovin’ head.

  I get it. It’s starting to come back to me. Now wasn’t that the case where the cops themselves wanted to close it down?

  Yeah. Marcus’s partner was the shill. He said: I disagreed with what my partner did. He shouldn’t have been in the parking lot of that mall.

  What did he mean by that?

  Nobody knows. He met with Internal Affairs and after that he refused to say anything.

  So you think Brady had him bumped off?

  Yeah, although I can’t prove it.

  Well, well. So that’s our Jonas.

  Jonas? Whaddya mean? This is the great Tyrone Brady I’m talkin’ about. You know, the guy Brady Alley’s named after. Patron of the arts. Jonas Brady now, I know who you mean but I’m not talkin’ about him. I got no beef with Jonas Brady. He’s a law and order guy.

  | 341 |

  In a crack-smoky room of another hotel which would soon burn down, the tall man was helping moaning Strawberry shoot herself up in her tired veins while Domino was insisting to the Queen: I said that’s not mine but the cop said right. I had a warrant outstanding so they took me in. So I was at Eight-Fifty Bryant and I was wearing my black and white polka-dot coveralls. You know, since I’m Domino I always try to look like my name. It’s brand recognition, see what I’m saying? And they wouldn’t give me my fucking overalls back. And they—

  But I got you out, Domino, didn’t I? I got five hundred dollars together and your pal Danny Smooth posted your bail.

  What the fuck do I care about that pervert? Domino shouted. And if you’re trying to make me feel guilty you can just throw me back in the hole, so help me!

  Domino, I love you, said the Queen. I’m always looking out for you. You know that. And you love me? You love your Queen?

  Yes, Maj, said the girl sullenly. Of course I do. You know that.

  Allrightie. What is it then, child, you want your overalls back? They should have given ’em back to you when they checked you out. Ain’t those your street clothes? And what about that silver cocktail dress you got?

  A long tap on the door, then two shorts, then another long.

  The Queen smiled.

  Who the fuck’s that? said Domino.

  You know who it is, said the tall man, looking over his shoulder, so give her some space!

  Oh, said Domino, making chewing-gum noises. You going to fuck Henry again tonight?

  I was fixing to, yes, said the Queen, looking her in the eye. You got a problem with that?

  It’s none of my business really.

  That’s right, said the tall man, so shut the fuck up!

  Hey, Maj, when the shit comes down, are you gonna skip with Henry and leave us all to face the music? I heard a couple girls saying that.

  Let him in, would you, Justin?

  Hold it right there in the vein until I get back. That’s right. I said hold it there, bitch. Oh, Strawberry, you’re such a goddamn pretty little bitch. Don’t come on like some fancy girl.

  | 342 |

  Does the Queen like to drink dark coffee? a panhandler whispered from the side of his mouth.

  Fuck cappuccino! cried Chocolate, drunk and high. She’s got more than mocha’s got to offer.

  Gimme a kiss, Chocolate.

  I’m glad I’m not barbeque, the whore laughed, kissing him. I saw how messy you are when you eat barbeque. If I’d be barbeque I’d be all over your face.

  Hey, Chocolate, somebody told me you also go by the name Brenda. Is that true?

  Don’t do that to me, said the whore, her eyes narrowing, her face tensing into chocolate-colored steel.

  Brenda, where’s the Queen?

  Fuck off! the whore screamed in terror, trying to run away, but this time the vig grabbed her and held her and pulled slowly in toward his face to whisper: You’d better think about it, Brenda Wiley. Because one of these days I’m going to get you . . .

  | 343 |

  Tyler, sitting beside Dan Smooth in a taxicab watching the very slow rotation of a heavy rubber tire on a trailer which then suddenly shot by, exposing the man who stood with folded arms on the corner of Sixteenth Street by the Esta Noche bar, through whose doorway he could see winking strings of what appeared to be glowing and crystallized piss, saw behind Mr. Folded Arms a man in a baseball cap whose heraldic device consisted of a red light bulb with a slash through it, and then the legend, tricked out in white letters: BRADY’S BOYS. —Look at that vig, he muttered.

  They’re all right, man, the cab driver said. They’re doing the good thing to help the people. But Brady kind of a character. Like you know he made some allegation the Queen tried to ex him.* Well, that never come out positive. Police can’t find no wrongdoing on the part of the Queen.

  You like the Queen, don’t you? said Tyler.

  Well, sir, I never come right out and say that, but her girls help pay my rent, man, and like they’re always big tippers; they smile at me, you know . . .

  Perfect praise from the mouths of babes, said Dan Smooth out of the side of his mouth.

  Take a valium, Dan.

  But police can’t find no wrongdoing on the part of the Queen, the cab driver repeated. Since then I lose my respect for Brady.

  The light changed at last. The driver accelerated.
They went to the Tenderloin.

  Wait here, said Smooth when they got to the parking garage. He ran inside and came out with a dirty envelope. —All right, he said. Now let’s go to the Little Angels Foundation on Broadway. —I want to pick up some medication for Sapphire, he explained.

  What’s in the envelope? said Tyler.

  Smooth opened it. —Warnings about vigs, he said. The usual stuff.

  In fact, I really don’t like that Brady all that much, the taxi driver said.

  Yeah, we figured that out, said Tyler.

  And how do you vote, Henry? said Smooth.

  I’d vote for her, sure.

  You erectile old understater, you. Well, you know already that she’s going to leave you, said Smooth. Consider yourself already left. I know I’ve said that to you before, but you clam up every time. So I’m going to keep hammering away. I’m going to force the little thighs of your soul apart until you answer me, Henry.

  Why should she leave me?

  People die, you stupid ass. Sisters-in-law, for instance. People get tired of people. People get sick. People run away.

  So all you’re telling me is that nothing lasts forever.

  Yeah.

  What if I tried to become more like her?

  You’re just becoming more like the rest of us, Henry. You’re turning into a sneaky, money-hungry bullshitter.

  Whatever, said Tyler, getting out. He passed two vigilantes in the attire of Brady Boys. The first one was sweaty and out of breath. —We chased ’em a couple blocks and then they split up, so we split up, the vig was saying. I caught one guy . . .

  Smooth leaped out of the taxi, giggling. Tyler looked into his eyes and said: Are you doing speed again?

  If you’re doing crystal, you—literally, you . . . you . . . When you find a good thing and don’t know when you have it, that’s another thing people don’t understand.

  Oh, for God’s sake.

  For Cain’s sake, you mean.

  From the doorway of the Jewel Hotel, Strawberry was drunkenly laughing: You get burned out. You get tired! and she gave the tall man a kick in the ass. The tall man snickered.

  Afternoon, Justin, said Tyler.

  Hey, boy, said the tall man. Where’s your faggoty car?

  Don’t you remember how I drove it up your ass last night? Where’s Maj?

  Upstairs in Strawberry’s room. She said you could wake her if you came by.

  All right.

  Hey, Smooth, what’s up? You look doped up.

  If you ever do a three-way scene, don’t do it in Sac, laughed Smooth. That’s what I learned from my experience.

  I don’t have time for your bullshit. Gotta make a run. Maj is in Room Twenny-Nine.

  Strawberry led them upstairs to the lobby where they each paid five dollars to the unshaven clerk, and then Strawberry unlocked the door of number twenty-nine and laid her finger on her lips, pointing to the Queen snoring softly on the unmade bed as the TV said: See, these agents I guess you could call ’em of the Queen, they lie in wait for girls at the bus terminal. Runaways, innocent girls without much experience of the world. They love it there.

  I expected that, said Smooth. That’s just how it was before, see. The Chosen People would show up and say, all right, open the gates of your city. If you let us in right now, you’ll be our slaves forever. If you don’t, we’re going to besiege you and then kill you all—well, kill all the men, I guess, rape all the women and children and sell them for slaves . . .

  Dan, there’s nothing about raping children in there. That’s just your wishful thinking.

  Well, sometimes I get carried away.

  Mute the sound, would you, Dan? We already know the crap they’re going to say.

  True enough, said Smooth. It’s not beautiful.

  Should we wake up Maj?

  You want my advice? My advice is no. Anyway, I’m getting jealous of you. You don’t help her be objective. She needs an easier person to be objective with—like me . . .

  The Queen opened her eyes and said: We got to get everybody together now.

  | 344 |

  And so (excepting only Dan Smooth, whose presence was required in appellate court) they all assembled on a hot dark night in a room at the Lola Hotel on Leavenworth Street, Lily’s room actually, tomb of ignoble desperation transformed by her into a dreamy hive of noble madness where she could rest and get high behind locked doors, no longer seeking any solution but searching nonetheless for something which in Beatrice’s case would have been God but for Lily comprised a flickering candle-flame to burn away the darkness inside her until the wax had melted and she had to go outside again to sell the hole between her legs which once had been a penis and which she now thought of as tissue neither male nor female, merely some orifice upon whose functioning, like that of her anus, the health of her body depended—no honey meant no money, and without money she’d be vomiting in the sink again. Heroin lit the way for her, and so did the Queen, but so also did what might as well be called self-improvement. Still at some remove from the innermost reaches of divinity where the Queen ceaselessly trod and where the crazy whore and Sunflower quite simply dwelled, Lily reflected in her eyes her glittering, glancing fishy friendships with the other women of the streets, who mostly despised her for her instability, in accordance with Darwin’s laws; and because the Queen did not speak of her very frequently, it was easy enough for them, egged on by pitiless Domino, to make fun of her stench and bleating voice, although they had to agree that she was inoffensive; she’d never fought anybody. Quite the contrary—there lived in Lily, as in Beatrice, Sunflower and the Queen herself, a longing to give of herself. In Sunflower’s case, the longing had been to give everything so that self would be exhausted, whereas the Queen and Beatrice were sweetly busy in their doings; as for Lily, what she dreaded most was disappointing others, which was why she had rendered allegiance to the Queen, of whose goodness and kindness she had no doubt; the Queen wanted to become her mother, and how could Lily have the heart to refuse? Having pledged herself, in one of her typical Lilyisms she continued to sleep apart from Maj whenever she could afford to do so because if she lay down too long among other people, their images sometimes began to dance around behind her eyes with increasing velocity until they became nightmares which spent themselves furiously inside her soul. Whenever a man paid her more than twenty dollars she always asked him: You want a picture of ugly old me? I can give you a photo of my ugly, ugly pussy if you want. I have one right here in the pocket of my . . . —She laughed until she cried whenever the man said no. When he said yes, she searched for the photograph but she was all out; she didn’t have any more.

  The wall in her room said LETITIA ROSA 10-20-96. Letitia Rosa was Lily’s real name.

  The wall also said:

  Rule Numero Uno: Don’t use God’s name in vain.

  Do—always Respect everyone and speak with a pleasant tone of voice.

  Don’t bring anyone in unless you let me know first and I okay it.

  What occurs in 26 stays between the present party. Our Business—stays our Business—no exceptions.

  When I say go, time to go! No potting around.

  3 chances—3 times are 86ed from 26.

  Break bread—no nasties.

  No money, no honey.

  Pay before you stay.

  Some bucks before you fuck.

  No tight ass so tight it squeaks when you walk, you cheap something for nothing busters.

  Money’s made for us and you to spend.

  You show love and fairness you get the same and most of the time even better my friend. Good people deserve great service.

  Love’s 3 Ms—

  My Mom

  My Money

  My Man

  Don’t play the player cuz the player don’t pay.

  Sex is evil all is sin sin is forgiven so sex is sin.

  Suck me fuck me make me bleed kinky sex is all I need.

  Jealousy has no set conspirator so beware of
the coy steps of happiness for deep within the heart lays the truth of their interactions which you see by looking past the lost in despair. Smile and you’ll always get trapped cuz demons are here.

  Well, we got a problem, said the Queen.

  Her children remained so tensely silent in that room that all could hear the click of a cigarette lighter in the hall. Lily, proud of her hospitality yet shy, sat on the toilet seat peeping through the doorway.

  Anybody here not know what it is?

  And the royal family huddled together unspeaking as if they were incapable of uttering language or even of comprehending what their old, old Queen was intimating as she sat there on the edge of Lily’s mattress with Sapphire on the carpet kneeling down between her legs, head in the Queen’s lap, sleeping.

  Allrightie. I s’pose you all heard Henry’s story.

  Beatrice cleared her throat and said: I doan know. Because we have something inside and they doan want us to . . .

  Her words died as they left her mouth. The lightbulb buzzed tremblingly.

  The Queen said: We can’t none of us make these vigs go away. They’re onto us and they wanna get us. They see that Mark of Cain glowin’ in the dark on our forehead, so we can’t even run, ’cause if we do we just make a movin’ light. I’m pretty sure they’ll get us. And that Brady man, the one that beat up Francine so bad that time she ain’t never come back to us, he wanna be playin’ a double game. He wanna have his whorehouse over there an’ he wanna bust us over here. It ain’t reasonable, so we can’t reason with him.

  An’ we can’t ex him, the Queen went on. We can’t do nothin’. ’Cause my power’s just about used up. That’s what the Bible says. An’ the Enemy never lies in His book. It’s all true an’ all cruel. So.

  She cleared her throat and said: I love you all. An’ maybe some of you all gonna get your reward real real soon.

  Lily’s skirts rustled in terror. Lily was remembering the death of Sunflower. Gazing at Lily, Kitty wrung her hands. But Tyler feared nothing. He was thinking of what Irene used to call “bow envelopes,” envelopes white or red, containing cash, which on New Year’s Day the old relatives presented to the younger ones, who then had to bow down to them in love and respect. Whether his reward would prove to be love, enlightenment, freedom or death, he knew that he would kneel to his Queen and render thanks.