cleaners emptied it, and then drive out through the gate he had entered with the package concealed under a fender.
His normal procedure was to send his dope ashore in the plane parts and recover it from the railroad siding from which the parts were shipped to the repair facilities, but he had heard that the sidings were carefully watched now and the parts sniffed over by dogs. His present plan seemed to him audacious but sound.
The gate search he passed through on his way to the parking lot was thorough and businesslike, worse than he had ever seen it. When it was over, he started his car with difficulty and drove downtown to the Seaman ’ s YMCA.
At the Y, he engaged a room and lay down on the bed for a while. When it grew dark he was able to discern the peephole in the door through which it was said the military police spied on the military personnel to see if they were buggering each other.
He was restless in the face of dead time. Hours of vacant unease had to be passed before he could return to cop his weight; self-discipline p ermitted, or required, light un complicated diversion.
When he went downstairs he saw that the lights above Oakland had come on, and the sky behind them was like deep blue marble. Even skid row smelled of eucalyptus. He was unmoved.
On a corner two blocks from the Y was a bar called the Golden Gateway. A sign over its side door read: liquor beer food — Home of the Seafarers Club. Another sign made of cardboard, resting against the Venetian blinds in the window, announced Seven Topless Dancers.
At one time the Golden Gateway had sold good cheap Italian food and there were pool tables in the back. The pool tables were gone now and the kitchen with them; in their place was a large cage with pink bars, inside of which girls of various colors and conditions frapped themselves to music from the jukebox. Since the cage was installed, all manner of people fell by. Escaped lunatics up from Agnew came to engage the suburbanites who came to engage rough trade. There were agents representing every agency, and a contingent of neighborhood blacks who did their business there and never seemed to enjoy themselves. Finnish Alex, a bartender under the old regime, managed the place now, assisted by three shark-eyed barmaids.
Hicks went in, thinking he might bullshit with Alex for a while, but it was not much of a place to bullshit anymore. He was shortly drinking hard, following bourbon two-fers with nip bottles of Lucky Lager. The go-go girls were an affront to sex, and Hicks was mildly scandalized by the fact that one of them appeared to be Japanese. The false ca nine on the upper right side of his mouth began to ache.
Drunk now, he went to the gents ’ , took the tooth out and ran cold water over it, and rubbed it with a clean handker chief. It seemed like a good idea. He replaced his tooth, pissed, and went out, walking toward the bar in solemn processional step. A party of blacks watched him from their table like medical students regarding a charity patient with a curious low disease.
At the bar, he got to speak with Alex for the first time.
“ I feel like a walking pair of teeth, ” he told him.
That means you ’ re drunk, ” Alex said. For Alex, almost everything meant that. “ What kind of trip you have? ”
“ Good, ” Hicks said. “ A good trip. ”
“ They still got that good pussy over there? ” Hicks leaned his elbows on the bar and belched. “ Yeah, ” he said. “ When you gonna go back? ”
“ Soon as I can get out. I want to put some money by and take a vacation. Go down to Mexico for a while. ”
“ Mexico, that ’ s a good place. They got that good pussy down there. ”
Hicks looked up at the girls in the cage.
“ What a lot of shit this place is now, ” he told Alex. “ Why do I have to look at those poor junkies? Christ, I just as soon look at you up there. ”
“ I ain ’ t got a costume, ” Alex said.
Hicks reached out and pushed him back against the
His normal procedure was to send his dope ashore in the plane parts and recover it from the railroad siding from which the parts were shipped to the repair facilities, but he had heard that the sidings were carefully watched now and the parts sniffed over by dogs. His present plan seemed to him audacious but sound.
The gate search he passed through on his way to the parking lot was thorough and businesslike, worse than he had ever seen it. When it was over, he started his car with difficulty and drove downtown to the Seaman ’ s YMCA.
At the Y, he engaged a room and lay down on the bed for a while. When it grew dark he was able to discern the peephole in the door through which it was said the military police spied on the military personnel to see if they were buggering each other.
He was restless in the face of dead time. Hours of vacant unease had to be passed before he could return to cop his weight; self-discipline p ermitted, or required, light un complicated diversion.
When he went downstairs he saw that the lights above Oakland had come on, and the sky behind them was like deep blue marble. Even skid row smelled of eucalyptus. He was unmoved.
On a corner two blocks from the Y was a bar called the Golden Gateway. A sign over its side door read: liquor beer food — Home of the Seafarers Club. Another sign made of cardboard, resting against the Venetian blinds in the window, announced Seven Topless Dancers.
At one time the Golden Gateway had sold good cheap Italian food and there were pool tables in the back. The pool tables were gone now and the kitchen with them; in their place was a large cage with pink bars, inside of which girls of various colors and conditions frapped themselves to music from the jukebox. Since the cage was installed, all manner of people fell by. Escaped lunatics up from Agnew came to engage the suburbanites who came to engage rough trade. There were agents representing every agency, and a contingent of neighborhood blacks who did their business there and never seemed to enjoy themselves. Finnish Alex, a bartender under the old regime, managed the place now, assisted by three shark-eyed barmaids.
Hicks went in, thinking he might bullshit with Alex for a while, but it was not much of a place to bullshit anymore. He was shortly drinking hard, following bourbon two-fers with nip bottles of Lucky Lager. The go-go girls were an affront to sex, and Hicks was mildly scandalized by the fact that one of them appeared to be Japanese. The false ca nine on the upper right side of his mouth began to ache.
Drunk now, he went to the gents ’ , took the tooth out and ran cold water over it, and rubbed it with a clean handker chief. It seemed like a good idea. He replaced his tooth, pissed, and went out, walking toward the bar in solemn processional step. A party of blacks watched him from their table like medical students regarding a charity patient with a curious low disease.
At the bar, he got to speak with Alex for the first time.
“ I feel like a walking pair of teeth, ” he told him.
That means you ’ re drunk, ” Alex said. For Alex, almost everything meant that. “ What kind of trip you have? ”
“ Good, ” Hicks said. “ A good trip. ”
“ They still got that good pussy over there? ” Hicks leaned his elbows on the bar and belched. “ Yeah, ” he said. “ When you gonna go back? ”
“ Soon as I can get out. I want to put some money by and take a vacation. Go down to Mexico for a while. ”
“ Mexico, that ’ s a good place. They got that good pussy down there. ”
Hicks looked up at the girls in the cage.
“ What a lot of shit this place is now, ” he told Alex. “ Why do I have to look at those poor junkies? Christ, I just as soon look at you up there. ”
“ I ain ’ t got a costume, ” Alex said.
Hicks reached out and pushed him back against the
Similar Books
