by Adam Connell
“You’re taking me the long route,” he said.
“Could be.”
She stopped, angled her body upwards and kissed him. There was no one nearby to watch. Calder wasn’t sure how smart it was to be on Broadway this late but Tamm didn’t seem concerned. Still, he kept his guard up for any dangerous stalking thoughts around them.
“So what’s all this learn you about me?”
“From your descriptions,” he said.
“Sure.”
“You’re a racist,” he said with a free laugh.
“I am not a racist.”
“You’re jealous of a woman formerly a man.”
“True.”
“And above all I learned I’d better be more wary around you.”
She pulled his hair. When they held hands there was a static spark generated from her fuzzy sweater. They continued on Broadway till Fourth Street and made a left.
“The other girls aren’t worth explaining,” she said. “Pearly was arrested last year giving blow jobs in cars around the corner. Wasn’t even charging them a shiny new green dollar bill. She’s still at the club.”
They walked the rest of the way without saying a word, turning another left onto Second Avenue, secure in each other’s silence. At Fifth Street Tamm said, “That’s the bar, right?”
“And upstairs is my room.”
“You gonna invite me?”
“If you’re willing.”
“I love male squalor,” she said and was first through the door.
Pal waved as they came inside. Calder waved back, Tamm gave him a cockeyed smile and the finger. Pal put his hand over his chest with an expression of heartache.
The bar was full. These weren’t the wandering drinkers like from Uptown, these were old pickled professionals who weren’t there to get drunk but to drink and in silence.
They squeezed between two stools. “It turned Sunday a little while ago,” Calder said.
“It did,” Pal said.
“I’ll have that shot with you now,” Calder said. “May not be able this afternoon like I promised. Looks like I can’t keep time.”
“That’s all right,” Pal said, and got his decanter out, three shot glasses.
Tamm lit up a cigarette. “It’s okay to smoke in here?”
“Isn’t legal but we don’t mind,” Pal said, “long as you have a drink with us.” He slid her a coffee cup he hadn’t cleaned yet, for an ashtray.
“Even trade,” she said.
“More than even,” Pal said. He poured out three clean shots. They threw them back together. Pal waited for their reaction.
“This one’s different,” Calder said.
“Yeah,” Pal said.
“Still some cherry, but berries too. I’m tasting — ”
“Swedish,” Tamm said. “Lingonberries?”
“On the goddam mark,” Pal said. “That’s palate, that is. I’m amazed you could taste it with that cigarette fouling your mouth.”
“Well I only just started it,” she said and gave him the finger again.
“You two, you passed the trial” — he nodded at the interior door — “you may enter.”
“Night,” Calder said.
“Morning,” Pal said.
Calder and Tamm walked to the back and up the stairs. They hadn’t gotten far in, so I could see what happened.
Coming down was Attila. He stopped directly in front of Calder, crowding him. Calder was larger.
“You recovered,” Attila said.
“Two-on-one, that how you always fight?”
“I didn’t need my brother there.”
“But he was there,” Calder said, “and it was the two of you came at me.” He felt some pressure in his head. He was able to push against it but it wouldn’t go away.
“Be glad he isn’t here.”
“You’re afraid, like at the park,” Calder said. “By Taylor’s.”
“Of you? I’m just surprised you haven’t moved out, way you were bawling.”
“Get out of our way,” Calder said.
Attila looked down at Tamm. “This whore you paid for, she’s stinking up the stairway with her smoke.”
“Who is this pig?” Tamm said.
Calder grabbed Attila by the throat, curled his fingers, dug his nails in. “Talk to me that way, not her.”
Attila smiled, though it was painted on. “If that’s what it takes to get my neck back.”
“That’s what it takes.” Calder let go. He hadn’t been holding on long enough to leave Attila with any marks.
“You got seven days left,” Attila said.
Calder didn’t respond.
“You’re the one who’s afraid,” Attila said with another smile, this one deep down to his skull. “And you’re smart to be. Sorry I embarrassed you in front of your lady friend.”
“You embarrassed yourself,” Tamm said.
“If you knew the whole story,” Attila said, “you’d agree with me.”
Tamm watched him down the steps and out the door. “And he’s got a brother?”
“A twin. Forget them,” Calder said, “I’ll show you my estate.”
On the landing, Calder noticed Rook’s door was ajar. He caught a glimpse of the man’s face before the door closed.
He opened his own door for Tamm.
“Spartan,” she said and went over to the half bookcase first. The shelves were empty except for brutally loved copies of Watership Down and Ironweed. On the floor was a red Bible.
“You religious?”
“Hardly.” Calder sat on his bed. “I move around a lot — ”
“You said.”
“So I move light. So I take with me books I can read them over and over.”
Beside the Bible on the floor was the scissor satchel. Tamm pointed. “You the barber.” Next she attacked the dresser. “You don’t mind,” she said. She opened and closed the drawers and said, “All the jeans in here are the same. And most of the shirts. Same as what you’re wearing now. Come to think of it, same as what you’ve been wearing every time I seen you.”
“They’re all clean.”
“Must really think it’s a good outfit.”
“It works, and it’s one less decision I have to make.”
“Cause you lead a very complicated life. Very tan in here,” she said, looking around. “Walls, the furniture. But it doesn’t bother you.”
“I’ve only been here a few days for it to bother me.”
“Enough time to mess it up, but you haven’t. I was expecting worse.”
“I guess I’m a bit unusual.”
“Yes you are. I’m gonna put this cigarette out before the ash starts a fire.” She went into the bathroom, ran the tap, came out.
She sat next to him on the bed. “A tan bathroom. Was this apartment in the Army? You live very generic, but you’re not.”
He kissed her, held her by an elbow and hip as if she might flee. It was another long kiss and all the way through it tasted of Marlboro. Afterwards she leaned back and said, “No, not generic.”
“You gonna rummage some more?”
“What’s to rummage? You don’t even have a TV. Who doesn’t have a TV?”
“I wouldn’t watch it much. No movies, no TVs to watch them on. Never cared for either. Never cared for wine. You want the list?”
“I should hate you on principle. I didn’t shower after work, possibly you noticed.”
“I’m too much of a gentleman to remark.”
“The hell you are.” She moved towards the bathroom. “Room for two in there?”
Calder got to his feet though the bathroom was barely big enough for one.
She took off his clothes and he took off hers, a complicated maneuver in such a confined space. They weren’t pulling and ripping, they were paying attention to the buttons and cloth. It was slow, and it was sincere. And they were trying to maintain an unbroken kiss the entire time.
He’d seen her naked before, but in that tan cell
with its white and steel plumbing, her nudity had a different context. There was no one else looking and he could look, when they eventually were undressed, without feeling guilty. A long look, no one sitting salivating watching them.
He could touch her. There was a slight coarseness to her skin but it was warm and it was tight. Some soft red down on her forearms that was darker now it was wet, they were in the shower.
Tamm hadn’t seen him naked before and made no shy secret of her appraisal. He had the body of a traveler, lean, and sunburned on his forearms and neck from walking outside. There were a few scars on his abdomen and left thigh, but otherwise she was unsurprised; he looked much the way she’d been fantasizing.
She soaked her thick red hair, turned twice around to get her entire body wet. Found the soap, started on Calder’s chest and washed him down. He did the same for her, only more slowly. Then pointed her at the faucet so they were facing the same direction.
One hand felt around her breasts, squeezing, pinching, rubbing delicately. The other hand searched out her groin, parted her lips, his fingers spreading her, his middle finger penetrating her.
She moaned, long and low. He sought her clitoris and her moans grew a little longer, a little lower.
Tamm’s hands searched behind her. She made a fist around his penis and stroked it.
There were no fans or vents and the room was incredibly fogged, even with the door open. Tamm put her mouth up towards the faucet, gargled with the water, drank some.
“I’m still not ready to be made love to,” she said.
Calder manipulated her clit faster while kissing the backs of her broad shoulders.
“You’re okay with that, then,” she said.
“We move at your pace,” he said.
Her body spasmed and she arched towards the wall. She lost her grip on his penis.
“Is it okay that I stay over, though?”
“Makes you think I’d allow you to leave?”
She turned round and grabbed him again, tighter. “I didn’t think you would. It’s like a swamp in here it’s so fucking foggy.”
“Can you see me?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Can you see what you’re doing?” he said.
“Can’t you feel that I can?” she said.
“So who cares about the steam.”
back to top
TWENTY-SIX
Sunday, Terce
Midmorning, Sunday proper, Calder walked Tamm out of the bar and hailed her a cab. She kissed him good-bye, bit his lower lip, said, “Call me at home. I don’t know my schedule the next few days, but it should be nights. I’ll be sleeping afternoons so don’t bother me then.” A wink, and she was in the car, and it was gone. New York magic.
When Calder got back to his room Rook was sitting on the unmade bed. “Morning,” Calder said, headed towards the bathroom to brush the sleep off his teeth.
“Morning, it’s already past ten,” Rook said.
Calder stopped and faced him. “I’m not used to getting up early.”
“Because you never had a job. You’ve got a job now.”
“We going to see one of the sons today?”
“I dated a stripper once,” Rook said. He hadn’t moved; leaning back on locked forearms, his palms on sheets that he had no idea how they’d spent the night, were they clean.
“Beautiful girl, even better body,” Rook said.
Calder took a breath, conscious he was breathing. Ever notice we’re only conscious we’re breathing in moments of crisis or emotion, Fish?
“There’s a lot of wading when you do that, listen, boy,” Rook said. “It’s nice you get for free what everyone else’s paying to gawk at. But there’s the jealousy thing. Do you really want them staring at her moles, every wrinkle, her freckles? Cause they do stare, it’s why they’re paying. So it’s nice to get it free, but it’s not so nice.”
Calder gave him a long look, aware that he was breathing and blinking.
“You gotta deal with their insecurities. Always a prettier dancer comes in and takes up a spot. A younger girl. We all get old, I got a prostate the size of a potato so it takes me forever to pee. Strippers are more aware of it, scared shitless. It’s not a lifetime gig. You ever seen what an old stripper looks like?”
“No.”
“There aren’t any.”
“If you say so.”
“She’ll tell you, she’ll, some night, the club, a sweaty businessman tried to paw her before the bouncer could cut in. He got a touch, he did. She won’t wanna make love that night. A high-school jerk talks down to her like she’s a hooker. Some do confuse the two. You’ll want to kill these assholes, the businessman and the high-schooler, but you can’t. First of all, there’s too many.”
“You might be giving me archaic advice,” Calder said.
“I dated a stripper so I know. And not so long ago it’s archaic. But I never dated a stripper worked for Faraday.”
“We’re not going getting — ”
“I don’t care what you’re not,” Rook said. “What you are is fooling around across party lines. Hell, you don’t even know who’s in what party, you been here all of five, six days?”
“She doesn’t work for Faraday like we work for Sotto.”
“What if Faraday’s using her to use you?” Rook said.
“Faraday doesn’t know I’m here. He doesn’t know who I am. We’re strangers, we might as well be on different fucking planets.”
“He’s above few things, Calder. Kinkaid, he’s above nothing. Briggs, Lundin. Nothing.”
“The Winged Lady.”
“Alls I want from her’s a dance. Five minutes is all, one song, that’s how long lap dances are, one song. How many five minutes you spent with the Nicotine Queen?”
“You brought me to the club,” Calder said.
Rook made the face of someone who’s been offered a bowl of rotten fruit. “That was one night, get you acquainted with the city, not ple — ”
“Now I’m acquainted.”
“So acquainted she sleeps over.”
“That’s about all she did.”
“I’m not asking you to kiss and tell with me. I’m telling you — ”
“You’re telling me.”
“Besides, I could find out, I wanted to. I think you’re too young for this.”
He wanted to punch Rook, and both men knew he wanted to. “I can handle Tamm discreetly,” Calder said.
“Anyone else see her with you? Anyone here?”
Calder didn’t answer.
“Goddam it. If you can end it with her, end it. If it’s too far gone for that — We’ve got a big plate with lots of problems on it, Calder, we don’t need to be slopping on more, Calder.”
“Can I shower and brush my teeth?”
“You can brush your teeth, it’s almost ten-thirty.”
“We taking a cab?”
“No, the subway, like any true New Yorker.”
“We used a cab getting to Tattletail my first day.”
“Your first day,” Rook said, “I didn’t wanna scare you. Today begins your indoctrination into the mysterious ways of the city.”
I lost them after that because they went underground, and underground is the other place I can’t see. Found them half an hour later. It wasn’t hard. Not for me.
They were in the West 50s when I caught up with them, walking towards the river and Automobile Row on Eleventh.
“I owned a car,” Calder said, walking on the inside of the sidewalk. Rook had the curb. “An Olds Toronado, used. It was a good car, I must’ve driven her 100,000 miles before she broke down in Wichita.”
“You have it fixed?” Rook said.
“Left her where she was. I don’t have a real license, taught myself to drive. It’s Sunday. They gonna be open?”
“More cars are sold Sunday than any other day of the week,” Rook said.
“Combined?”
“I don’t know combined. It’s the busies
t day.”
Potamkin Honda was between 50th and 51st. Rook opened the glass doors, went in ahead of Calder.
“How’d you find him?” Calder said.
“Like anyone else in sales,” Rook said. “He’s on the Web, his picture and bio and too much of everything else.”
“Gentlemen, hello,” said the receptionist behind her marble-topped fortress. It hid most of her body; Calder guessed she had secretarial spread from sitting all day.
The waiting area was full and there were plenty of people inspecting the floor cars as if they were racehorses up for bid. The various models were pointed whichways, as if they’d fallen out of the sky and landed where they landed. There were glass cubicles along the front perimeter and desks in the back.
“We’re a tad busy,” the receptionist said, “can I put your name on the waiting list to see a salesperson?”
“Adelard,” Rook said, “we’d like to see him.”
“Mr. Adelard’s with a customer, as are all our salespeople, but if you give me your names — ”
“Adelard,” Calder said, and approached her fortress. “When he’s done with his current, we’re next. Next,” Calder said. Impatiently.
She shook her head, but they were miniature shakes and not a denial.
“We want to be next. These other people” — Calder glanced behind him — “they don’t exist till we see Adelard. Adelard.”
The receptionist’s head moved around in a half-circle, then she said, “Wait by the coffee bar, I’ll send him to you.” She pointed. Her nails were too long, probably press-ons.
The coffee “bar”/waiting area was a veneered desk with coffee dispensers have the big buttons on top. Regular, Decaf, Hazelnut. The High Holy Trinity of java. Calder was still tired so he had some regular. He also wanted to occupy his mouth so he wouldn’t have to defend the Tamm situation further.
A heavy man with a stiff belly and skinny tie ambled up to them. “Help you? I know there’s a line but you two men look like buyers to me.”
“We’re waiting for Adelard,” Rook said. Sharply.
“I’m the better salesman,” he said. Then his eyes went wide and he walked away.
Calder was drinking his second cup, Rook was pondering the ridiculousness of owning a car in the city, as the junior Adelard approached. He looked nothing like his father except around the eyes, ears. He had a warm white smile.