Sirens, p.16
Sirens, page 16
Chris threw his head back and she watched curiously his Adam's apple
bounce up and down before he scooped the shaved ice out of the bottom of
his glass, thrust it down the front of her blouse. She jumped, screaming
a scream no one could hear over the din and, whirling, Chris drew her
out again on to the floor where there was no more room as the shoals
closed in for a good look, fascinated, moving a bit, the music
inescapable, hips twitching, breasts quivering, flanks out-thrust and
tense. And Daina was lost, captivated by everything that was happening
to her, as if each sight, each sound, each smell was a bolt of a living
energy lancing through her. A shell had burst open without her knowing,
its fragile skin ripped open by forces now far too strong to contain.
She was plugged in, connected, part of the delicate powerful circuit and
she trembled at the energy she felt. For a time she lost Chris to the
back rooms which, she surmised, were filled with pinched faces, frosted
hair, cocaine, and Quaaludes. But that did not stop her. She was
surrounded by music so loud, percussive, prismatic, it was like an
injection straight to the heart. Her mind was a dance, unbounded by time
or space so that she kept slipping away from here to a room without
light three floors down, sunk into the ground like a cesspool, guarded
by concrete dogs; to the rubble of an urban street filled with
wire-mesh, chain-link fences guarding mounds of broken brick, bonfires
in ashcans and breaking shadows along sooty, windowed walls. And she
thought, I am, I am, I am I Chris returned, kissed her, hugged her,
whirling her back out on to the disappearing floor and back here, below
their blurred feet, the forest bowed deferentially to their passage. And
the music buzzed around her brain, kept them alive and moving, a nonstop
nightcoach journey, as if they were both attempting to flee Los Angeles
without ever really leaving. another illusion that, in the soft light of
dawn, seemed have existed at all. still on Old Malibu Road, so early
that all they could was the sea hissing on their left. Daina braked
before in and parking the car. is was slumped against the right-hand
door, asleep. She him gently and his eyes opened halfway. '?' Pre home.'
got out, pulled the door open for him- '. Home to gie. Oh yeah.' He
rubbed his fingers in his eyes. ' dreamin'.' She had to lean in to help
him up and out. in Sussex! He was talking half to himself. ''t been in a
while! He leaned heavily against her. is, I've got to go to work.' aw
Jon wavin' t' me. From th' kitchen. Just liftin' his Wavin', wavin' like
he was beckonin' me. Odd.' She began to walk him slowly to the front
door. ''s aboutthat? His head swung around and he almost stumbled as
they hit sand. His large eyes stared at her half crossed. ''s dead,'
said thickly. i She nodded, leading him up the steps to the door. It
needed lot of patience. ' died a long time ago.' She said it as a ther
might to quiet an unhappy child. Chris nodded, broke away from her on
the terrace for a ent, clutching at the wooden railing. He weaved,
almost ping over one of the potted plants.
All colour drained in his face, his mouth dropped open. Daina was afraid
what he might do. Then he seemed to regain control of self. He turned
towards her so that his back was against railing. ' time ago.' His voice
was only a croak, an echo of what she had said. ' was there! was enough,
she thought. She went to where he stood and him up, bringing him to the
door. ' know,' she said athetically. ' don't know nuthin! 140 141 She
managed to get her left hand on the doorknob, turned it. It wouldn't
give and she thought it was locked until she realized that it was
because she was using her left hand. She turned in the other direction
and the door swung open. She half dragged him into the foyer.
"Maggie?' she called. All the lights were on and Daina squinted against
the glare. Outside, in the dawn, occupied as she had been with getting
Chris into the house, she had not noticed. They stumbled into the living
room and she stopped dead. Chris, whose head had been lolling against
her shoulder, roused himself, his dark eyes flicking back and forth.
"Jesus!' Daina breathed. ' th' hell happened heref The room was a mess.
The long leather sofa was on its side, the cushions and back slit over
and over in slashes long enough to have been made with a machete.
The Oriental rug was chewed up as if by a rabid animal. The bookshelves
had been cleared, pages wantonly ripped out of volumes, a snowfall of
literature covering everything. Daina saw a broken-spined copy of Joseph
Conrad's Lord Jim, a book on the Tarot without a cover, on and on. The
enormous stereo system had been beaten in, the metal and glass fascias
of the components dented and shattered, the great speakers skeletal
husks within which only ripped wire hung forlornly. At least this was
true of the one nearest them. The other had been spun around and now
faced towards the dining room. '!' Daina moved towards the dining room,
seeing the smoked-glass tabletop shattered and spiderwebbed with cracks.
She stepped over a litter of pages from a biography of Cervantes,
overlaying bits of wood and twisted metal, and that is when she saw what
was inside of the far speaker. At one time it had been a thinking,
feeling human being. She had to keep telling herself that in order to
believe it, for what confronted her now was a mockery of anything even
remotely human. The face had been shattered as efficiently as the
tabletop so near it. It was only half covered by the hair that fell down
142 it. Patches of bare, reddened scalp showed that great s had been
viciously ripped out. One shoulder must been broken when the body was
stuffed into the empty rds of the speaker bbx and almost certainly both
legs red. Pink and white bone protruded rudely from the and ruined
flesh. Blood was everywhere, drying where s not pooled. ina screamed and
immediately put her white knuckles in .. She bit down but felt nothing.
Her nails dug into Im. ain, what is it?' Chris came up beside her and
she felt the th of his body quite distinctly, as if the space directly
ront of her was as frigid as the depths of outer space.
She her stomach lurch menacingly and she coughed and, -tasting acidic
sourness, began to gag. Oh, my God, oh, my God. e phrase bounded over
and over in her brain, which enly seemed monstrously empty of everything
but that us sight. Terror was creeping in on silent cat's feet and felt
as if some part of her vital life force had been ripped her. Oh, my God,
oh, my God! It rebounded like a handball m soft wall to soft wall. She
could not stop it; could not make any sense of it. It was as if she were
abruptly ing in some alien tongue. Chris' hands gripped her shoulders
painfully. ' he amed.'Maggie!' Daina had known it, of course. That was
why her mind been jabbering on like a loon. But until he vocalized it
had not allowed the thought into her consciousness. Now ould not get
out. Like some horrific uninvited guest, some strous plague carrier
staggering in to infect everyone und it, this thing, this bit of
knowledge that she desperately not want to assimilate, tore at her
relentlessly with talons steel and a beak of iron, rending her flesh,
exposing her rt to the acid of the air. She fell down on her knees
before the grotesque boxed g and sobbed. She tried to turn her head
away, to close eyes, and could do neither. She was pinned there,
staring, ing while Chris stood impotently over her, bellowing into 143
the new morning that had brought horror and rage and pain to them both.
Part Two Deeper Than The Night There's a river flowing by a willow tree
when you find you're there remember me ... -Bryan Ferry, ' Only Love 144
Four a. It was the only name he had. But of course if he had r he would
not have told her. aa pic e up on her the third night she came by.
He was th man with a great woolly beard and a nose so wide -seemed to
cover the whole centre of his creased face. His was the colour of
mahogany except for a line of puckered the colour of caf6 au lait just
under his left eye. He knew lot of French as did she but he had not
learned it at the School of Music and Art as she had. He said he had din
Paris years ago but she was never that sure. More y he had picked it up
inside Attica or somewhere. @7`ln this early autumn of 1968, it was
already cooling off idly even here in the heart of Manhattan - one
Friday it been in the high 70s and three days later winter had begun
grip; somewhere over the weekend autumn had come and e without being
noticed. Baba wore a Navy peacoat with e large plastic buttons with an
anchor carved in their and a pair of white chino bellbottoms. But he was
no r. veryone who hung out along the 42nd Street strip, extendfrom
Broadway to Ninth Avenue, had a spot and Baba's just outside the Selwyn
Theatre on'the south side of the t. This, Daina soon found out, was by
far the rougher side. was on the calmer north side that once in a great
while ps - always in pairs - could be seen, strolling, having a ke. They
would only venture on to the south side to stop brawl inside one of the
movie grind houses and then it was y in packs of a comforting size.
There was never any problem at the Nova Burlesque House, t door and one
flight up from the Selwyn's tacky marquee. ancient blue-green neon sign
buzzed constantly and its y-10 black-and-white glossies of bimbos who
never peared on that tiny stage, who had never even been near 147 New
York, fluttered tiredly in the sooty breeze off the Hudson. But then the
Nova had its own security force. Baba, standing outside the Selwyn,
pushed anything he could get his hands on - as it turned out, there was
an appalling variety. Publicly he hawked loose joints, speed, acid cut
with Cheap speed. But privately, if he knew you, he was a source of just
about anything. Daina had not even heard of a third of the shit he
trafficked in. It is difficult to say just what he saw in her right off.
Certainly she was beautiful but he could get - and did get - all the
women he needed. And then again, as she found out later, he had a
distinct propensity for Asian women. So what was it that made him speak
to her as she walked by him for a third time in her plain brown corduroy
jacket, faded Levi's stuffed into black calf-high boots with tips so
pointed she thought ooff them as lethal weapons. ' think yo doin',
mama?' She stopped, looked into his ursine face. Her hands were dug deep
into the pockets of her jacket; it was too early in the season to have
thought about gloves. His liquid eyes regarded her curiously.
Their pupils and irises were the same colour, taking up almost all of
the available space so that just a touch of the surrounding yellow could
be geen. ' doing anything,' she told him. ''t yo got nowheres else t'
go?' ' like walking here.' Baba laughed deep in his throat, his eyes
crinkling up, almost disappearing in the dark flesh of his face. '!" His
features hardened and he turned his head, hawked and spat. ', cruisin'
fo' a bruisin', mama, yo keep this up.' She frowned. ' see in this
per-fumed garden anyway?' ' but me,' she said, ' answer to.' The tip of
his thick tongue came out, shockingly pink against the almost-black
lips. '. That right?' His eyes rolled, roved up and down her body with
such intense carnality that she found herself blushing. ' cut o' white
meat like yo be picked up by any one o' these sumbitches toolin' roun'
here. They chew yo up, mama, spit yo out so yo doan know yo'self no
mo'.' 148 glanced apprehensively around at the passing throngs s and
Puerto Ricans. Here and there whites hurried by. was laughter, loud
bantering. A couple of long lean ran down the block towards Eighth
Avenue, ignoring light on the comer. There was a squeal of brakes, and
cursing. ou mean itis a tough world.' shook his head. ' picked the
place, mama. Some bad hang ' here. Mighty evil cats as I say. Yo gots
t'be ul. Whatchew wanna be twitchin' that pretty white ass s out here
with us outlaws, huh? Yo do much better at where yo' white boyfrien'
will take care o' yo.' told you I liked it here.' is face darkened and
he squinted one eye at her. ', yo ain't cruisin' any dark meat, uh?' P
iggas, mama. Do niggas turn yo on? ' sho nuff yo end up with a face
fulla blood, some handsome dude a pea-green suit come sweep yo off yo'
feet, beat yo then d them pretty legs o' yours, oooh. Yo go on home
now.' I'm not,' she said stolidly, '. I'm here because ... I be where I
should be any more.' tell yo this, mama, yo sure as shit doan belong
here.' he stared up into his face, dug her hands, now curled into ,
deeper into her pockets. She moved back and forth from foot to the
other. Her cheeks were rosy with the cold, and she and Baba spoke their
words were accompanied by excited bursts of steam from their open
mouths. ' t you do all day?' she said. e snorted. ' no. By day I got me
a seat on the New Stock Exchange.
This's on'y a sideline y'see.' He tapped side of his head, the fingertip
lost within the woolly hair. ' this rascal plate upside m'head, mama,
did me in. Steel ad o' brains is all. They all dribbled out during the
war. bble shame.' ven she could tell an Amos'n'Andy sham and she giggled
his clowning. ''ll bet you weren't in the war. You're not rly old
enough.' Oh, yo' wrong ' dat, right enough. Coulda gone to Nam 149
2cept I'se out here in the ozone doanchew know. Army doan want no
outlaws. Couldn't find me anyways even if they'd a mind to try. Come
down here, they'd be shown the combat zone for sure, huh!' He slapped
his huge hand against his meaty thigh. A pair of Puerto Rican youths
stopped, looked at Baba. Their faces were as smooth as cream, their long
black shining hair pulled back into ponytails. They were in uniform:
ragged jeans, short baseball jackets. One had on a pair of Adidas - '
fast getaways,' Baba said later - the other, scuffed black winkle-picker
boots. ' a sec,' Baba said and went over to deal. The street around her
blinked and sernaphored, all its brash multi-coloured neon crawling its
endless skein through the night, manhandling the darkness. A gritty wind
whipped down the gutter, whirling litter like forlorn handkerchiefs
mistakenly raised in salute. She sniffed the stench that was part of any
west wind, the industrial wastes from New Jersey landfills. Baba took a
handful of green for a couple of tightly twisted polythene bags filled
with yellows and reds. A baby-blue Caddy tooled by as slowly as if it
had engine trouble. It had a four-foot whipcord antenna, gaudy spiked
custom wheel covers and morechrome than any three cars put together.
Daina screwed up her eyes, trying to peer into the interior but the dark
green tint of the windows made it next to impossible. She saw only a
dark moonlike face and, next to that, on the passenger's side, a
Medusa's head of braided black hair. Baba, finished with the Puerto
Ricans, bent down as the window whipped silently down. He had to bend
almost double to stick his head in. Baba spoke for some time but Daina
could not hear what he said. From somewhere he produced a small flat
brown-paper package. His hand went in with it, emerged with a roll of
bills. Baba said a couple of more words and stood up. The Caddy began to
pick up speed, the window whipping back into place like a zipper. When
Baba strolled back across the pavement to where she stood, she said, '
what are you going to do, stand here all night?' t yo up to, maroa?' He
stared hard at her. ' doan atall. I could be serious trouble.' smiled.
"I don't think so.' She reached up, touched his ' would you do to me?
Steal my money? You can it.' He was so startled that he could think of
nothing to ' what's the worst? Rape me?' Huh! Like as not lotta dudes '
here be off like a shot ind timt one. Yo ain't gonna find no help. What
the fuck's er with yo, mama? Ain't yo got no sense a'tall?
Shit! yo'mama learn yo nuthin?' don't think you're anything like the
others you've been ing me about.' Sheeit, mama! I'se just like the rest.
Just bigga than most, Ss all.' ''s get something to eat, okay?" .,Hey. I
could take yo by the hand right now, up there back . burlesque house,
make yo sorry yo came down here.' is thrust-out head was quite close to
