Beautiful, Naked & Dead (Moses McGuire) (3 page)

Staring into the mirror I had to ask myself who that man was. The scruffy red beard, four gold earrings in one ear, a Celtic knot tattoo on his neck, placed there to commemorate the love for a girl he no longer knew. The scar above the left eye from a broken beer bottle. And cold blue eyes, eyes that had seen too much for one life. The Viking heritage showed in the man’s body, he was built for wielding a battle-axe and pulling an oar. I wondered if that man in the mirror came into the club, would we be friends? Probably not, he didn’t look like he had many friends. I’d probably throw his trouble-making ass out on the street.

After the rush of the battle and the bad sex settled, after staring at my face in the mirror for too long… Kelly’s face came into my mind. Her call was the reason I stepped into this mess in the first place. I came in looking for Kelly and wound up getting tossed a thank you lap dance from Piper. Life does have its ups and downs.

With a guilty smirk, I stepped into the men’s room to dab the stain off my jeans. I wasn’t guilty about the lap ride, hell we were both consenting adults and I figure as long as the donkey didn’t die, what adults do behind closed doors is their own damn business. I did feel bad about leaving Kelly hanging while I got my nut off though. It was no way to treat a friend. Men can be jerks sometimes, just a fact. Any possible warm afterglow of the ejaculation was gone before I left the john.

Dropping some change into the pay phone, I dialed Kelly’s number. I was rewarded for my effort with a busy signal. I dialed again but got the same irritating blatting tone. Why would the Armenians have threatened a waitress? She didn’t make the kind of cash the dancers did. When she called, Kelly had said she wasn’t who I thought she was. What did that have to do with the Armenian shakedown? Somewhere between the pay phone and the bar I decided I was going to have to go see Kelly, if only to stop my brain from thinking about it.

Behind the bar Turaj’s eyes were in full flight, lighting on anything in the room but me. I slapped my hands firmly down on the bar top. Turaj gave a little jump then turned a sheepish grin on me.

“You are one slick mother fucker, right?” I purred.

“What? Moses my man, what are you thinking?”

“That you are one slick mother fucker. How much were those Armenian pricks planning to pay you a week, for the right to scalp our girls?” He looked mock stunned.

“I didn’t, they, I never saw-”

“That’s it, just keep digging that grave deeper and deeper.”

“Trust me, I don’t know those punks. What kinda man do you think I am?” A line of sweat was collecting on his weak brow.

“The spineless kind. The kind that gets his rocks off holding power over these girls because they’d never give it to him willingly. That answer your question?”

“Screw you,” he said with no conviction.

“Hand me the phone, I need to talk to your uncle.” At this his mask of cool started to twitch.

“Who’s he going to believe, huh? I’m his blood.”

“Hand me the phone, we’ll find out.” What I really wanted to do was jump over the bar and turn him into a stain on the carpet. I guess he saw it in my eyes because he fell apart, his upper lip started to tremble, he looked down at his hands as though they held some mystic secret.

“Here’s how it works, those fucks or any puke like them comes in here after our girls, you’re going to call me. And if you don’t, what do you think will happen?”

“You’ll tell Uncle Manny.”

“Beep, wrong answer. Forget about Manny, I’ll be coming for you. And I won’t be happy… are we clear?” He nodded ever so slightly, fighting to hold his face from completely falling apart. “All right bitch, I need Kelly’s address.”

“No, no. If she wants to fuck you, she’ll give you her address, not me. You know the rules.”

“I wrote the rules. Now get me Kelly’s address before I remember how pissed off I am at you.”

“Fine, but you don’t tell her I gave it to you.” He scurried off across the club toward the office, glad for the excuse to get away from me. His head was down, and his shoulders sagged. Beating down a whipped dog gave me no pleasure, but screw him, he made his own lumpy bed when he climbed in with wanna be gangsters.

“Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?” China asked, sidling up next to me.

“Just doing my job, like everyone else here.”

“What a man, what a man, what a mighty fine man.” She sang. Winding her small pale finger into a buttonhole on my shirt she pulled me close to her. The word had spread quickly that the Armenian tariff had been lifted. Looking around at the other smiling girls I knew I’d be offered enough free lap rides to keep me happy for days… If only that was what would make me happy. Maybe if I knew what happiness looked like I might know how to go after it. But, forty-three years on this miserable planet only taught me how to survive, not thrive. Every day I felt like just one more soldier trying to make it back to the world in one piece. If I was smart I would stay in the trenches, keep my head low and never play the hero. If I was smart.

CHAPTER 2

K
elly lived in a small 1950’s apartment complex clinging to the sheer green hillside above the reservoir in the Swish Alps. Silverlake, a trendy, oh-so-hip, gay community nestled in the steep hills between the gritty streets of Hollywood and the harsh reality of East LA. From her porch you could look down the sudden incline, past the Spanish tile rooftops to the shimmering blue water of the reservoir, water surrounded by chain-link and razor wire. Here in LA water was better protected than our children, I guess to some degree it was simple economics, one was more valuable than the other. Water turned this desert into a city, what had children ever given us?

Walking past Kelly’s little red Miata, I climbed the stairs. The curtains of one of the ground floor apartments parted and a pair of rummy eyes surrounded by white hair watched me pass. If the old woman didn’t like what she saw, she didn’t say so. I knocked on Kelly’s door but she didn’t answer. A string of miniature Japanese lanterns hung above her door, and a hand-painted Mexican tin heart was tacked below the peephole. I knocked several more times, but the apartment was silent.

Standing there on that peaceful afternoon, sunlight dappling down through a eucalyptus tree I started to feel a bit silly. A knight in rusted armor charging off to rescue a damsel who probably took her new puppy down to the dog park for a stroll. While sharing Chinese food in the dressing room she had told me about the puppy Angel, and how much she loved watching it play with the other dogs. Some breeder gave her a purebred Bullmastiff pup in the hopes it would buy his way into her shorts. She blew the guy off but kept the pup. She said the dog world was simple and pure, love without deceit. She didn’t have to say it, I knew she meant it was the opposite of everything around us. Strip joints act like they’re honest. Straight transactions, sex for cash. Bullshit. It’s all smoke and mirrors and denial and deceit. Every night the deal goes down all across America, and no one goes home with what they bargained for. Not the girls or the marks or dumb bouncers who think that just because they’re smart enough to see the crooked deal they’re immune to it.

Riding down the hill towards the dog park, I decided to give Kelly a verbal ass paddling. Chicks love drama more than they love new lace panties, but she had to know that when she reached out to me I took it seriously. Cruising past the large fenced park there were lots of happy pooches but no Kelly. She might have taken the dog down for a cup of coffee. Or she was asleep in her apartment with her earplugs in. Whatever, I was sure she’d call me sometime that night, all apologetic and chump that I am, I’d say it was no big.

Back in my bungalow I poured myself a tall McCallans. The scotch cost forty-five bucks a bottle, but a man has to have some extravagances. Sitting in my lazy-boy I cranked up U2. Bono was singing about a girl packing for a trip to a place none of us had ever been before. I couldn’t get Kelly out of my head, as if the song was about her. I saw her standing in an empty airport late at night, a cheap suitcase in her hand. Maybe it wasn’t her I was worried about, maybe it was me. Was Piper right? Did I think Kelly was my ticket to a normal life?

No, it was more, she stood for hope, hope that the whole planet wasn’t full of cheap scams and low-class trades. She was real in a life full of fake. Fake tits, fake passion, fake vows given to fake friends. Everyone looked out for Number One and everything was for sale if you just knew the price. But not Kelly. She was the only person I counted as a true friend, and I had never seen the inside of her apartment. What did that say about my life? We spent so much time in the dressing room chatting, goofing off, sharing take-out, that rumors spread that we were lovers. Most of the dancers had no reference point for a man and woman being friends. Fuck them if they didn’t get it. Hell I didn’t get it, what did she see in me that was worth her time? Finishing my drink I dialed her number, more busy signal. Not good. Climbing onto my bike I headed the Norton back to Silverlake.

Night fell soft and gentle as I moved up the apartment building stairs. I was moving quietly but not enough to avoid the watchful eyes of the white haired sentry, when she saw me looking at her she stepped quickly back behind the protection of her curtains.

There were no lights on in Kelly’s apartment. After knocking I pulled out a thin piece of stainless steel. It was the size of a credit card. As long as the dead bolt wasn’t set, it would open any door. Slipping the card into the doorjamb, I felt it click, and the door opened. Stepping into her apartment uninvited, I knew it was a betrayal. But, if nothing was wrong, she’d never have to know I’d been there. Sweeping the living room with my Maglite I could see it was a nice, friendly room as inviting as her smile. She had an overstuffed sofa with an old-fashioned floral print slipcover. A framed print of water-lilies hung over the sofa, it was a Monet; I could tell because it said so under it. A scarred coffee table held a small ghetto blaster and a stack of cd’s. What was missing was any of the normal flotsam and jetsam one collects in life. No books or knick-knacks, no memorabilia, nothing to personalize this apartment to Kelly. The kitchen was tidy, a few dishes in the sink but other than that everything was in its place. In a dish-drainer were four plates, in the cupboard, four water glasses stood next to four coffee mugs, all matching and relatively new. It made me embarrassed to think of the Salvation Army rejects that filled my shelves.

Opening the bedroom door I moved the light across the tan carpet and up onto the bed and across her pale feet. She was lying sprawled naked on a daisy print comforter, she looked peaceful as if she’d fallen asleep with her head resting on a rust red stain. The world skipped a beat slipping sync for a moment. She was Sleeping Beauty, this was a cartoon; any moment seven dwarves would burst through the door. I felt myself drifting in and out of my body for a moment as I looked down at her, no way this was real. I pulled the light off her face hoping that when I looked back she would be fine, but I found myself staring at the wall, it was splattered with blood, hair, bone chips and gray matter. Facts. Hard cold facts. From splatter to victim. No entry wound on her face. I could see it go down. They had forced her to suck on the barrel before they pulled the trigger. Entry wound back of her throat, exit wound back of her skull. I traveled down her body. Her left nipple was hanging on by a ragged piece of skin. They used pliers on her. Random small brown circles on both breasts, her belly… they burned her with a thin cigar too large to be a cigarette too small to be a robusto. A browning red stain smeared from her pubic hair down to her thigh. Jesus Christ they… back to her face. Her lifeless green eyes stared up at me. My knees went weak, I slipped to the floor, tears rolling out of my eyes. I hadn’t cried in years. I felt the weight of it all pressing down on me. In this whole shitty world couldn’t they leave this one perfect flower alone?

I don’t know how long I sat there, but slowly out of the darkness a sound found its way to me. It was a soft whimper coming from behind the bathroom door. Crawling to my feet I opened the door. A four-month old strawberry blonde puppy bounced out. She had huge paws and a wrinkled loose skinned sloppy face. Her wild wagging tail swung her butt around as she showed me her joy at being set free. Suddenly, the pup stopped dead still and stared at the bed. Tail and head down she edged towards her dead mistress. She sniffed the hand that hung off the bed. Gently the pup licked Kelly’s limp hand.

Leaning over, I kissed Kelly’s cold lips. The last thing on her mouth should be a kiss, not a gun. Looking down at Kelly I wiped the tears off my face and felt myself go cold. Tears never helped anyone, tears were a luxury for folks living in safe little houses watching flicks about kids with cancer. Out here in the real world, they didn’t do shit. Taking a dish towel from the kitchen I methodically moved through the apartment wiping my prints clean from every place I had touched. Using the towel to open the front door I was almost out when I felt eyes on me, the damn pup. Looking out from the bedroom with those big lost eyes. “What the hell do you want me to do with you, huh?” I said. The pup looked at me with a depth of sadness I had never seen in a dog so young. “Fine, come on then, but I swear to God the first time you piss in my house I’ll sell you to the taco truck.” She didn’t resist as I picked her up, she crawled up to look over my shoulder, watching her dead mistress all the way out of the apartment. The damn beast weighed at least forty pounds and was well on her way towards monsterhood. But one look in those sad eyes told me her heart was even bigger than her massive paws.

I called the cops from a pay phone outside a liquor store. When they asked for my name I said it was Tom Waits, and that I lived at the corner of Heart Attack and Vine.

Climbing onto my Norton I nestled the pup under my leather jacket and rode towards home. A heart-shaped tag on her collar read Angel, no phone number no address. No evidence to lead anyone back to her mistress. John Q Straight put his name on everything he owns, but fringe dwellers know better. Kelly knew it. Information is power so don’t give any out for free. I didn’t save Kelly, I guess caring for her dog was the best I could do… I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Wind whipped at my face and Angel snuggled down against my chest. I had seen death before. As a soldier in that mess they called a war, I had even caused it. Somehow this was different. She mattered more than all the rest, maybe because she wouldn’t matter to anyone else, not the cops, I knew how hard they would try for a dead cocktail waitress from a strip joint. Not the straight world, to them the women of my world were as expendable as last night’s condom. But she mattered…If only to me and the goddamn dog.

Pounding down Highway 2 where it rose up over the 5, the Girls Girls Girls sign of Club Xtasy winked up at me from forty feet below. At seventy MPH, it would only take a flick of the handle bars to send me slamming into the low freeway wall. One quick crunch of metal and I’d be soaring out over the LA river headed for the great beyond where crap like this was all a dull memory. My knuckles went white on the hand grips. The will to survive battling it out with desire for oblivion. The pup trembled under my leather coat, it was as if she could sense how close we were to ending it all. Taking her with me wasn’t part of a deal I was willing to make. Carry your own water, leave the innocent be and if you have to step off the board do it alone. No passengers for that ride. We come in alone, we go out alone, end of story. Breathing out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding I loosened my grip. The green of Forest Lawn on my right, the brown green of Mount Washington on my left, and ahead in the distance the steep peaks of Angeles Crest. Just when you’re ready to burn it to the ground and walk away, this aging bitch we call a city can still catch you off guard with her beauty. Sure, she’s only a tarted up old whore, but when the light is right and you squint just a little, she looks young and fresh and almost hopeful.

I pulled down an old sleeping bag and made a nest for Angel on the floor. After three or four therapeutic scotches, I curled up in bed and hoped for the noise in my head to stop. There was a thump on the foot of the bed as Angel pulled herself up. She curled up very small and didn’t look at me, like maybe I wouldn’t notice her if our eyes didn’t meet. I closed my eyes until they were only open a slit and watched her as she ever so slowly crawled forward, finally resting her head on the pillow next to mine. Only then did she fall asleep. I wasn’t so lucky. I lay for a long time in the dark haunted by my fallen friend’s face. Haunted by what I knew of her last hours, by what I should have done…She reached out to me and I had failed her. I blew her off to play the hero for Piper and collect a lap dance. While I was squirting in my jeans, some freak was raping her. She was dying while I sat at the bar fucking with Turaj. If only I had gone straight to her place… If only… if… When at last I fell asleep it was listening to the rhythmic breathing of the pup.

In the dream rivers of blood flow down off the granite mountains into a boiling red ocean. I can taste sweet, iron and salt in my mouth. A young Lebanese woman lays in the white sand, the pulpy surf pounding her dead bullet riddled body. Beyond the breakers, where the sea grows calm, Kelly floats on her back. She cranes her neck to look back at me.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she whispers, a slight smile curling up her lips. That mischievous twinkle in her eyes invites me to chuck it all and join her.

“I fucked up, Kell.”

“You just did what you always do.” We spoke without moving our lips.

“You paid the price.”

“Women always pay the price. Now come out here and join me.” I wanted to obey her. I really did. But as I watched, she slowly sank below the surface and was gone without even a ripple.

When I woke my first thought was of suicide. Again. Who would care or even notice? Closing my eyes I wondered if I even had enough drive to get up and look for my pistol. Something wet and rough dragged across my cheek. A big sloppy puppy face looked down at me with anticipation.

“What the fuck do you want?” I asked, Angel stared at me, her tail starting to wag.

“What?” Nothing, just big empty eyes. “Thanks a lot Kelly, what the fuck am I going to do with a dog?” I asked the ceiling.

Pulling myself out of bed, I fried up some eggs, smoked ham, six cloves of garlic, a yellow onion and strips of stale tortillas into a hash. I split the steaming tasty mush with Angel. She wolfed the grub down in three big gulps filling her face wrinkles with egg. Grabbing a dish rag I scrubbed her face clean, “I don’t know what you are, but you sure ain’t no lady.”