it came to just above her knees. Shoeless, she tiptoed up the walkway to the front door and let herself in the front door with a hide-a-key from behind a planter.
The heat made me shivver and I took a blast of the Mad Dog. I felt it go down and the bolt of cold relief exploded within me. I knew the throbbing would be relieved soon. So would the thinking.
While she was gone, I tried smoking a cigarette, but it made me retch, so I ate aspirin and had another drink and listened to the news on the radio. Rocco was asleep and motionless on the floor, yelping in his dreams. The news-guy said there were shootings in a beach city close by, and an automatic weapon had ended a dispute over a Christmas gift certificate at a shopping mall. It made me hope that Amy’s noise in the house wasn’t waking McBeth, who might be asleep in a bed next to a crack dealer named Bubba, with an unfavorable disposition toward honkies.
I looked up when I heard the screen door on the porch quietly slap shut. Amy tiptoed down the concrete steps carrying two large supermarket bags filled with clothes. She got to the car and set them on the hood, then leaned in through the window, “I’ve ga-got wa-one ma-more thing to da-do,”she whispered, jingling a set of car keys and pointing to a Toyota convertible parked in the driveway. “Tha-that’s McBeth’s ra-rented ka-car. He ma-made a ja-john ra-rent it for him and na-now he wa-won’t re-re-re-return it.”
I watched as she scampered over to the car. It was red and impressive. She chirped the alarm off, then got in and lifted the tails of my shirt around her naked hips, and squatted on the driver’s seat. She peed directly on the sheepskin upholstery.
When she was done, she got out and closed the door and chirped the alarm back on. Then she pranced back to the porch and shoved the keys through the mail slot in the door. Getting in the car beside me, she grabbed the Mad Dog bottle from between my legs and took a major slam. “Let’s ba-boogie,” she said.
The Starburst Motel is on La Brea Avenue near Sunset Boulevard. The marquee on top of the entrance in front advertises HBO-TV and kitchenettes, and there’s a man-made sign taped to the outside of the Manager’s Office window, “DAILY SPECIAL $29.95.” Amy wanted a room with a kitchen, so I pulled in front and stopped by the office. Since my shakes were gone, I knew I was okay to go inside to the guy by myself.
As it turned out, if we wanted a room with a kitchen and HBO, it was thirty-nine dollars a day, ten dollars more for the kitchen. He had two rooms like that, and pets were no problem. One had a window and one was around back. Both rooms had air conditioning and were available. I looked at both and told Amy what I’d seen. It was an important deal toher and she guaranteed me that I could fist-fuck her if we’d take the nice room, the one with the window. What decided it for me was that the room was near the ice machine, which I considered an important feature.
It was two bucks more for a reason the guy mumbled in Urdu or Farsi. I took it for forty-one and paid an additional ten dollars for a key deposit, and then some more for tax and an additional eight dollars pet deposit fee. Sixty-three bucks total, when he got done adding.
I took care of it up front by putting seven days in advance on the credit card which had cleared telephone approval. I did it because I was concerned that, any minute, the card would be cancelled and a new one reissued in my wife’s name only.
Later in the early afternoon, when we were moved in with all the food and stuff from the station wagon and the air conditioner was pumping away the Santa Ana heat, and we were part way down the jug of Mad Dog and my brain was still working good, I discovered that Amy didn’t stutter when she was drunk. As she put away more Mad Dog, her speech was less affected. Booze disconnected her stutterer.
She loved being able to talk, which, I now understood, was why she
The heat made me shivver and I took a blast of the Mad Dog. I felt it go down and the bolt of cold relief exploded within me. I knew the throbbing would be relieved soon. So would the thinking.
While she was gone, I tried smoking a cigarette, but it made me retch, so I ate aspirin and had another drink and listened to the news on the radio. Rocco was asleep and motionless on the floor, yelping in his dreams. The news-guy said there were shootings in a beach city close by, and an automatic weapon had ended a dispute over a Christmas gift certificate at a shopping mall. It made me hope that Amy’s noise in the house wasn’t waking McBeth, who might be asleep in a bed next to a crack dealer named Bubba, with an unfavorable disposition toward honkies.
I looked up when I heard the screen door on the porch quietly slap shut. Amy tiptoed down the concrete steps carrying two large supermarket bags filled with clothes. She got to the car and set them on the hood, then leaned in through the window, “I’ve ga-got wa-one ma-more thing to da-do,”she whispered, jingling a set of car keys and pointing to a Toyota convertible parked in the driveway. “Tha-that’s McBeth’s ra-rented ka-car. He ma-made a ja-john ra-rent it for him and na-now he wa-won’t re-re-re-return it.”
I watched as she scampered over to the car. It was red and impressive. She chirped the alarm off, then got in and lifted the tails of my shirt around her naked hips, and squatted on the driver’s seat. She peed directly on the sheepskin upholstery.
When she was done, she got out and closed the door and chirped the alarm back on. Then she pranced back to the porch and shoved the keys through the mail slot in the door. Getting in the car beside me, she grabbed the Mad Dog bottle from between my legs and took a major slam. “Let’s ba-boogie,” she said.
The Starburst Motel is on La Brea Avenue near Sunset Boulevard. The marquee on top of the entrance in front advertises HBO-TV and kitchenettes, and there’s a man-made sign taped to the outside of the Manager’s Office window, “DAILY SPECIAL $29.95.” Amy wanted a room with a kitchen, so I pulled in front and stopped by the office. Since my shakes were gone, I knew I was okay to go inside to the guy by myself.
As it turned out, if we wanted a room with a kitchen and HBO, it was thirty-nine dollars a day, ten dollars more for the kitchen. He had two rooms like that, and pets were no problem. One had a window and one was around back. Both rooms had air conditioning and were available. I looked at both and told Amy what I’d seen. It was an important deal toher and she guaranteed me that I could fist-fuck her if we’d take the nice room, the one with the window. What decided it for me was that the room was near the ice machine, which I considered an important feature.
It was two bucks more for a reason the guy mumbled in Urdu or Farsi. I took it for forty-one and paid an additional ten dollars for a key deposit, and then some more for tax and an additional eight dollars pet deposit fee. Sixty-three bucks total, when he got done adding.
I took care of it up front by putting seven days in advance on the credit card which had cleared telephone approval. I did it because I was concerned that, any minute, the card would be cancelled and a new one reissued in my wife’s name only.
Later in the early afternoon, when we were moved in with all the food and stuff from the station wagon and the air conditioner was pumping away the Santa Ana heat, and we were part way down the jug of Mad Dog and my brain was still working good, I discovered that Amy didn’t stutter when she was drunk. As she put away more Mad Dog, her speech was less affected. Booze disconnected her stutterer.
She loved being able to talk, which, I now understood, was why she
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