Bloodsucking Fiends: A Love Story Chapter 11~12

Chapter 11Lather, Rinse, RepentThe Animals were humming the wedding march when Tommy walked in the stick in. Tommy was sound from the cab ride from Telegraph Hill. Evidently the cabdriver, who had a nervous tic and the clothing of screaming, The fuckers at indeterminate intervals and for no particular reason, felt that if you werent going to turn startstrip a hill with break either four wheels leaving the ground and priming in a shower of sparks, you might as easy non top it at both, and, in fact, should avoid it by taking a corner on deuce wheels and crushing your passengers once against the doors. Tommy was sweat-soaked and a subatomic nauseated. present bring forths the bride, Troy Lee verbalise.Fearless(prenominal) Leader, Simon utter, you number the likes of you just odd a trio-toweler. Simon measured the success of whatever social event by the number of towels it took to clean up afterward. Was a snip in my life, Simon would say, when I totally owned whiz towel and I never had whatever fun.Youre non still pissed at me? Tommy adopted.Hell, no, Simon said. I had me a three-toweler myself tonight. Took cardinal choir girls from Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt surface in the motortruck and taught them the fine art of slurping tadpoles.Thats disgusting.No, it aint. I didnt kiss em afterward.Tommy shook his capitulum. Is the truck in?Only fourteen hundred cases, displace said. Youll take for plenty of era to plan the wedding. He held out a stack of bride magazines to Tommy.No, thanks, Tommy said.Drew chucked the magazines hind end him and held out a can of whipped cream with his different hand. Take the edge off?No, thanks. ignore you poke funs stack the truck? Ive got whatever stuff I want to do.Sure enough, Simon said. lets go do it.The crew headed to the stockroom. Clint stayed behind.Hey, Tommy, he said, his head follow through, looking embarrassed.Yeah?A pallet of kosher food came in tonight. You know, cohither admity for Hanukkah and everything. And its supposed to be blessed by a rabbi.Yeah. So?Well, I was wondering if I could say a a few(prenominal) words everyw present it. I misbegotten, theyre not washed in the assembly line or anything, nevertheless Christ was Jewish. SoKnock yourself out, Clint.Thanks, Clint said. Taken with the Spirit, he scurried off to the stockroom.Tommy went to the brand-news racks by the registers and ga thered up an offsetload of womens magazines. because, glancing over his get up to make sure that n iodin of the Animals was watching, he took them into the office, locked the door, thence sat have at the desk and began his research.He was roughly to move in with a char for the first clock time, and he didnt know a thing rough women. perchance Jody wasnt crazy. peradventure they were all that way and he was just ignorant. He flipped speedily through the tables of contents to get an overview of the female mind.There was a bod here. Cellulite, PMS, an d men who dont commit were the enemies. Delightfully light desserts, marriage, and multiple orgasms were the allies.Tommy felt like a spy, as if he should be microfilming the pages under a gooseneck lamp in some sanction room of a Bavarian castle stronghold, and any minute some woman in SS gear would burst in on him and tell him that she had ways of making him rebuke. Actually, that support part wouldnt be too bad.Women turn overmed to have some collective plan, and most of it seemed to involve getting men to do stuff that they didnt want to do. He skimmed an phrase entitled Tan Lines Sexy Contrast or Panda rear Shame? A Psychologists View, then flipped to one entitled Mens checke for Sports Analogies How to Use Vince Lombardi to Make Him Put the Seat Down. (When one player fall in, the whole team gets a alter butt.) He read on When its fourth and ten and Joe Montana decides to go for it, would his linemen tell him that they wont go to the store to get him tampons? I do nt call up so. And Of course Richard Petty doesnt want to break in a helmet, but he cant drive without protection either. By the time Tommy got to the warnings about never using Wilt Chamberlain or Martina Navratilova as examples, he was completely disenchanted. How could you deal with a creature as devious as woman?He inclineed the page and his heart sank even further. Can You Tell Him Hes a Lousy Lay? A Quiz.Tommy thought, This is exactly the gentle of thing that made me stay a virgin until I was eighteen.1. Its the threesome date and youre about to have an intimate moment, but when he drops his bunco you notice hes less blessed than you expected. Do youA Point and laugh.B Say, Wow A real man at last. whence turn and snicker to yourself.C Say, Is that what they mean by microbiology?D Just go ahead with it. He might be shamed into making a commitment. And what do you c are if all your sons are nicknamed Peewee?2. You decide to do the dread deed, and just as things are start ing to get hottish he comes, rolls over, and asks, Was it good for you? YouA Say, God, yes That was the best seventeen seconds of my lifeB Say, Sure, as good as it gets for me with a man.C Put a Certs in your navel and say, Thats for you, Mr. Bunnyman. You can have it on your way pricker up, after the handicraft is finished.D Smile and throw his car keys out the window.3. After fumbling in the dark, he thinks hes found the spot. When you tell him thats not it, he forges ahead anyway. YouA Grab the lamp off the nightstand and beat him with it until he gets off you.B Grab the lamp off the nightstand and beat him to death with it.C Grab the lamp off the nightstand, turn it on, and say, Would you look where youre at?D count patiently until he finishes, wishing the whole time that you had a lamp on your nightstand.The phone in the office rang. Tommy closed the magazine.Marina Safeway.Tommy, is that you? Jody asked.Yeah, I have on my phone voice.Look, youre registered into room two-tw elve at the Van mantle Motel the corner of chestnut and Van Ness. Theres a key waiting for you in the office. The papers and keys for my car are on the hunch. I leftover some papers for you to egress to Transamerica and some gold too. Ill meet you at the motel office a slim after sunset.What room are you in?I dont think I should say. wherefore? Im not going to come in and jump you or anything.Its not that. I just want things to be right.He took a deep breath. Jody?Yes.Is there a lamp on the nightstand in your room?Sure, its bolted bolt down. wherefore?No reason, Tommy said.Suddenly, from the sand of the store, the Stones belted out Satisfaction from a breeze through box cranked to distorted fuzz level. Tommy could hear the Animals chanting, down the g beatter in the background.Ive got to go, he said. Ill see you tomorrow night.Okay. Tommy, I had a nice time tonight.Me too, he said. He hung up and thought Shes evil. Evil, evil, evil. I want to see her naked.Jeff, the failed power forward, burst into the office. The truck is stacked, dude. The ski boat is charged Were lecture luau in the produce gangway.The Clark 250, self-propelled, professional floor-maintenance machine, is a miracle of janitorial design. Approximately the size of a small desk, the Clark 250 sports two rotating scrub disks at the face up of the machine, as well as an onboard reservoir that distributes soap and water, and a squeegeed vacuum that sucks it up. It is propelled by two over powered electric motors that leave behind drive its gum-rubber tires over any flat surface, wet or dry. A single operator, walking behind the Clark 250, can, in less than an hour, scrub four thousand square feet of floor, and buff it to a transmit in which he can see his soul, or so the booklet claims. What the brochure neglects to mention is that if the squeegee is retracted and the vacuum dour off, a single operator can slide along behind the Clark 250 on a river of soapy froth. The Animal s nameed the machine the ski boat.When Tommy came rough the corner of aisle 14, he saw Simon, shirtless, wearing his cowboy hat, cooking weenies over xxx cans of Sterno on a stainless-steel rack that normally was used to display murphy chips.I love the smell of napalm in the morning, Simon said, waving a cook out fork. It smells like victory.Cowabunga Drew screamed. He was sliding through two inches of sweat behind the ski boat, towing Lash toward a makeshift ramp by a length of clothesline. Lash hit the ramp, went airborne, and flipped in the air with a battle cry of Workmans CompTommy stepped a case as Lash landed on his chest and plowed a drift of suds with his face. Drew powered down the boat. Eight-two, Barry yelled. Nine-one, said Clint. Nine-six, said Drew. Quatro-uno, said Gustavo.A four-one from the Mexican judge, Simon said into his barbecue-fork microphone. Thats got to hurt his chances for getting into the finals, Bob.Lash spit out a gustatory sensation of soap an d coughed. The Mexican judges are always tough, he said. He wore a beard of suds that made him look like a thin, wet version of Uncle Remus.Tommy helped Lash to his feet. be you okay?Hes fine, Simon said. His personal trainer is here. Simon grabbed a coconut off the shelf and lopped the top off with a huge knife from the meat department. Dr. Drew, he said, holding the coconut out to Drew, who took a pint of rum from his hip pocket and splashed some in the shell.Down this, Simon said, handing the coconut to Lash. Kill the pig, partner.The Animals chanted Kill the pig until Lash had downed the whole drink, coconut milk and rum washing streams though his beard of suds at the corners of his mouth. He stopped to breathe and threw up.Nine-two Barry shouted.Nine-four, Drew said.Six-one, Simon drawled. Penalty points for chunks.Fuego, Gustavo said.Simon jumped in Gustavos face. Fuego? What fucking number is Fuego? You can be unfit as a judge, you know?Fuego, Gustavo said, pointing over S imons shoulder to the chip rack, where three dozen weenies had burst into flames and were spewing unrelenting smoke.The smoke alarm went off with a Klaxon scream, drowning out the Rolling Stones.It peal into the fire department, Drew shouted in Tommys ear. Theyll be at the door in a minute. Its your job to head them off, Fearless Leader.Me? Why me?Thats why you make the big bucks.Kill that stereo and put out the fire, Tommy yelled. He turned and was heading for the social movement door just as Clint came out of the stockroom.The kosher stuff is all blessed, and I prayed over some of the gentile food for good measure. You know, Tom, the guys said that you might be getting married, and Im getting my minister card in the mail soon, so if you need Clint, Tommy interrupted, clean-up in the produce aisle. He went to the front door, unlocked it, and went outside to wait for the fire department. The bay was socked in with corrupt and the beam from the lighthouse on Alcatraz cut a swat h crosswise Fort Mason and the Safeway pose lot. Tommy thought he could make out the figure of someone standing under one of the mercury lights. person thin, dressed in dark clothing.A fire truck pulled into the parking lot, siren off, its flashing red lights cutting the fog. As the fire trucks headlights brush across the lot, the dark figure dodged and ran, staying just ahead of the lights. Tommy had never seen anyone run that fast. The thin guy seemed to cover a hundred yards in only a few seconds. A trick of the fog, Tommy thought.Chapter 12Fashionably lucklessThere were five police cars parked at the Van Ness Motel when Tommy got off the great deal across the street. He thought Theyve come to get me for turning in a false alarm to the fire department. Then he realized that only Jody knew that he was coming to the motel. Pity, he thought, I would have gotten a lot of writing done in prison.He crossed the street and was met at the office door by a uniformed police woman.Crime scene, sir. Move along unless registered.Am registered. emergency shower, Tommy said. Hed learned his lesson about saying too much when he had talked to the unwarranted fireman at the store. They didnt want to hear why it happened, they just valued to be sure that it didnt happen again.Name? the cop said.C. Thomas barrage.ID?Tommy hand her his Indiana drivers license.Says Thomas Flood, Junior. No C. C is pen name. Thomas is writer, Tommy said.The cop modify her baton. Are you trying to give me a hard time?No, I just thought you wanted to talk that way. Whats going on? Tommy looked over the cops shoulder at the motel animal trainer, a tall, balding guy in his mid-forties who was wiping fingerprints off his bulletproof window with a towel, looking as if he was going to start crying any minute.Were you in the motel last night, Mr. Flood?No, I just got off work at the Marina Safeway. Im night-crew leader there.You animated in the City then? The cop raised an eyebrow.Ive just be en here a few days. Im still looking for a place.Where can we fall out you if the detectives need to talk to you?At the store from midnight to eight. But Im off tonight. I guess Ill be here. Whats going on?The cop turned to the motel manager. You have a C. Thomas Flood registered?The manager nodded and held up a key. room two-twelve, he said.The cop gave Tommy back his license. Get that c returned if youre going to stay in the City. You can go to your room, but dont cross any of the yellow tape.The cop walked out of the office. Tommy turned to the manager. Whats going on here?The manager motioned for Tommy to come closer to the window. The manager bent over and whispered through his talk hole The maids found a womans body in the dumpster this morning a woman from the neighborhood, not a guest.Murdered? Tommy whispered.Her and her poodle. This looks horrible for the motel. The police are talking to all of the guests as they check out. They knocked on your friends door, but she d idnt answer. The manager passed Tommys key through the slot, along with a business card.They want her to call the detective at that number when she gets in. Would you give it to her?Sure, Tommy said. He took the key and stood there trying to think of something to say to relieve the managers anxiety. Uh, sorry about your dumpster, he said.It didnt work. The manager burst into tears. That poor little quest after, he sobbed.On the bed were a stack of official-looking papers, a map of San Francisco, and a thick windbag filled with cash. There was a note clipped to the papers. It said sound Tommy,Heres the stuff to get my Honda out of impound. Use some of this cash to allowance the fines. I dont know where the impound lot is, but you can ask any policeman.You will have to go to the Transamerica Building to get my last check. (I marked it on the map.) Ive left a message on the personnel department departments voice mail that you are coming.Good luck finding an apartment. I forgot to mention that you want to avoid getting a place in the Tenderloin (also on map).Sorry Im being so mysterious. Ill explain everything tonight.Love,JodyWhy in the hell was she being so mysterious? He capable the envelope and took out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, counted them, then put them back in the envelope. Four thousand dollars. He had never seen that much gold in one place. Where did she get that kind of money? Certainly not filling out claims at an insurance company. by chance she was a medicate dealer. A smuggler. Maybe she embezzled it. Maybe it was all a trap. Maybe when he got to the impound lot to pick up her car, the police would perplex him. She had a lot of nerve signing her note Love. What would the next one say? Sorry you have to do hard time in the big house for me. Love, Jody. But she did sign it that way Love. What did that mean? Did she mean it, or was it habit? She probably signed all of her letters with Love. sound Insured, We are sorry but your policy w ill not collapse for your barium enema as it was done for recreational purposes. Love, Jody. Claims DeptMaybe not.Maybe she did love him. She must trust him, she had given him four grand.He shoved the money in his back pocket, picked up the papers, and left the room. He ran down the travel to the ground level and tripped over a large black flexible bag full of dead woman. A coroners deputy caught him by the arm before he fell.Easy there, fella, the deputy said. He was a big, hoary guy in his thirties.Im sorry.Its okay, kid. Shes sealed for freshness. My partner went to get the gurney.Tommy stared at the black bag. Hed only seen one dead person in his life, his grandfather. He hadnt care it.How did it I mean, was it murder?Im betting creative suicide. She broke her own neck, dead(p) out her blood, then killed the dog and jumped into the dumpster. The MEs betting murder, though. You pick.Tommy was horrified. Her blood was drained?Are you a reporter?Nope.Yeah, she was about a gal lon low, and no circumpolar wounds. The ME had to go into the heart for a blood sample. He was not pleased. He likes things simple decapitation by cable car, massive gunshot injury you know.Tommy shuddered. Im from Indiana. Stuff like this doesnt happen there.Stuff like this doesnt happen here either, kid.A tall, thin guy in coroner blues came around the corner pushing a gurney with a small, gray, dead dog on it. He picked up the dog by a rhinestone leash. What do I do with this? he asked the big hairy guy. The dog spun slowly at the end of the leash like a fuzzy Christmas ornament.Bag and chase it? said Big Hairy.A dog? Thats a new one on me.I dont give a shit. Do what you want.Well, Tommy interrupted, you guys have a good day. He hurried away to the bus stop. As the bus pulled up he looked back and saw the two coroners tucking the little dog into the womans body bag.Tommy got off the bus at a javahouse burn up Chinatown where he had seen guys in berets scribbling in not ebooks and smoking French cigarettes. If you were looking for a place to sit and stare into the abyss for a while, always look for guys in berets smoking French cigarettes. They were like road signs Existential Crisis, adjacent Right. And the incident with the body bag had put Tommy in the mood to chew over the meaninglessness of life for a few minutes before he started hunting for an apartment. They had treated that poor woman like a flip of meat. People should have been crying and fainting and fighting over her will. It must be some sort of protection mechanism, more of that ability that city populate had for ignoring suffering.He ordered a double mocha at the counter. A girl with magenta hair and three nose rings frothed it up while Tommy searched though a stack of used newspapers on the counter, separating the assort sections. When he paid the girl she caught him staring at her nose rings and smiled. Thought is death, she said, handing him the mocha.Have a nice day, Tommy s aid.He sat down and began flipping though the classifieds. As he read through the apartments for rent, the money in his pocket seemed to shrink. Here was the reason why people seemed so distracted. They were all worrying about making rent.An ad for a furnished bean caught his eye. He was a loft kind of guy. He imagined himself saying, No, I cant hang around, Ive got to get back to the loft and write. And, Sorry, I left my wallet in the loft. And writing, Dear Mom, Ive moved into a spacious loft in spruce SOMA.Tommy put the paper down and turned to a beret guy at the next table who was reading a volume of Baudelaire and building up a drift of Disc Bleu butts in the ashtray. Excuse me, Tommy said, but Im new in town. Where would I find fashionable SOMA?The beret guy looked irritated. South of Market, he said. Then he picked up his book and cigarettes and walked out of the cafe.Sorry, Tommy called after him. Maybe if I had asked him in FrenchTommy unfolded the map Jody had left him a nd found Market Street, then a neighborhood marked SOMA. It wasnt faraway from where Jody had marked the Transamerica Pyramid. He folded up the map and tore the loft ad out of the classifieds. This was going to be easy.As he prepared to leave, he looked up to see an enormously fat man in a purple velvet robe enter the cafe carrying a flog sample case decorated with silver moons and stars. He sat at a table near Tommy, his bulk spilling over either side of the cane chair, and began removing things from the sample case. Tommy was captivated.The fat mans head was shaved and there was a pentagram tattooed on his scalp. He covered his table with a share of black satin, then placed a crystal ball on a pedestal of brass dragons in the center. Next he uncover a deck of tarot card from a purple silk jack off and placed them by the crystal ball. Last he removed a sign from the sample case and set it up on the table. It read Madame Natasha. Palmistry, Tarot, Divination. Psychic Readings $5.00. All proceeds go to AIDS research.Madame Natasha was sitting with his back to Tommy. As Tommy stared at the pentagram tattoo, Madame Natasha turned to him. Tommy looked away quickly.I think you need a reading, young man, Madame Natasha said, his voice high and feminine.Tommy cleared his throat. I dont believe in that stuff. Thanks, though.Madame Natasha closed his eyes as if he were listen to a particularly moving passage of music. When he opened them again he said, Youre new to the City. A little confused and a little scared. Youre an artist of some kind, but you dont make your living that way. And youve recently turned down a proposal of marriage. Am I right?Tommy dig into his pocket, Five dollars?Have a seat, Madame Natasha said, waving him to a seat at his table.Tommy moved to the seat across from Madame and handed him a five-dollar bill. Madame Natasha picked up his tarot card and began shuffling. His hands were tiny and delicate his nails painted black. What shall we a sk the cards today? Madame said.Ive met this girl. I want to know more about her.Madame Natasha nodded solemnly and began laying the cards out on the table. I dont see a woman in your near future.Really?Madame pointed to a card on the right of the pattern he had laid out. No. You see the pose of this card? This card rules your relationships.It says closing. That does not necessarily mean physical death. The Death card can be a card of renewal, signifying a change. I would say that you recently broke up with someone.Nope, Tommy said. He stared at the interpret picture of the skeleton with the scythe. It seemed to be laughing at him.Lets try again, Madame Natasha said. He gathered the cards, shuffled them, and began laying them out again.Tommy watched the spot where his relationship card would fall. Madame paused, then turned the card. Death.Well, well, what a co-in-kee-dink, Madame Natasha said.Try again, Tommy said.Again Madame shuffled, and again, when he laid down the relations hip card, it was Death.What does it mean? Tommy asked.It could mean a lot of things, depending on your other suits. Madame waved to the other cards in the pattern.Then what does it mean with the other cards?Honestly?Of course. I want to know.Youre fucked.What?As far as relationships?Yes.Youre fucked.What about my writing career?Madame Natasha consulted the cards again, then, without looking up, said, Fucked.I am not. Im not fucked.Yep. Fucked. Its in the cards. Sorry.I dont believe in this stuff, Tommy said.Nevertheless, Madame Natasha said.Tommy stood up. I have to go find an apartment.Do you want to consult the cards about your new home?No. I dont believe the cards.I could read your palm. willing it cost extra?No, its included.Okay. Tommy held out his hand and Madame Natasha cradled it delicately. Tommy looked around to see if anyone was looking, tapped his pedestal as if he was in a hurry.Goodness, you masturbate a lot, dont you?A guy at a nearby table spit coffee all over his p aperback Sartre and looked over.Tommy pulled his hand away. NoNow, now, dont lie. Madame Natasha knows.Whats that got to do with an apartment?Just checking my accuracy. Its like zeroing out a polygraph.Not a lot, Tommy said.Then Ill have to adjust my reading. I would have rated you a wankmaster of the first degree. Its nil to be ashamed of. Considering your relationship card, Id say its your only option.Well, youre wrong.As you wish. Let me see your palm again.Tommy surrendered his palm reluctantly.Oh, good news at last, Madame Natasha said. You will find an apartment.Good, Tommy said, pulling his hand back again. Ive got to go.Dont you want to know about the rats?No. Tommy turned and headed toward the door. As he reached it he turned and said, Im not fucked.The Sartre reader looked up from his book and said, We all are. We all are.