Crazy (11 page)

Chapter 15

The strip joint with Sambraus’s apartment right above it would have to be called Lebert’s Iron Bar. The guys are laughing as I come through the door with Sambraus. I’ve talked a bit to him on the way here. About life. And his life. He would like to track down his old friend from boarding-school days. Xavier Mils. He’ll look for him later in the phone book. Apparently we are very like him, Janosch in particular. Sambraus said Mils would certainly enjoy meeting us. But they haven’t come across each other in years. So it’s time they did.

Sambraus strikes me as a nice guy. Even Janosch has come around to this view. The two of them talked a little on the subway. On the other hand, Glob still thinks Sambraus is a maniac—but a nice maniac. He’s probably right. And he’s probably done quite a lot of things in his life. You can see right away, just from where he lives. The strip joint is on a side street, an old three-story building. The walls are gray and peeling. Above the second floor is a neon sign with the aforesaid inscription, LEBERT’S IRON BAR. The script is three-dimensional, with the pink letters jammed in tight together. Next to it you can see the shape of a naked woman, also made of neon, that moves its arms and legs. They shine in the car headlights.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you’d gone into the porn business,” asks Janosch, shouting with laughter.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” I tell him.

“You succeeded!” says Fat Felix.

“Lebert’s Iron Bar. Benjamin, you’re crazy.”

And with that we go into the strip joint. The air inside is thick. I can hardly breathe, and gasp in desperation. There’s a white mist floating over the floor. The walls are pink. Every four feet a picture of a naked woman in a neon frame. Green. To the right there’s a stage, maybe seven feet high. Black. To both the left and the right is an iron pole that runs from the ceiling to the floor of the stage. A red curtain marks the back of the stage, and hanging down over it is a small advertising panel showing seconds ticking by. From 60 to 0. Right now it’s at 53. Opposite the stage is the bar. A big, broad-shouldered man is standing behind it dispensing drinks. He has a full brown beard and quick little eyes. His eyebrows are thick and bushy, and there are lots of creases on his forehead. Behind the huge man are rows and rows of bottles. Mostly whiskey, wine, and other alcoholic stuff. There are five men sitting at the bar, looking weary and defeated, staring at the signboard, which has now reached 49. There must be about fifty people in here. It’s pretty crowded. They’re all sitting on bar stools at high round tables in the middle of the room. Most of them have their legs crossed. They keep sneaking glances at the signboard: 45. The loudspeakers are droning music from the seventies. A DJ who seems to be around twenty is playing the records. His hair is of course bleach blond. He’s wearing a black leather suit with a white SIMPLY RED T-shirt peeking out now and then. His face is smooth and unlined. In front of him are two turntables, with piles of records and a microphone beside them. He has black earphones on. “It’s All Right” by Supertramp is coming out of the loudspeakers. The signboard is now showing 42. The broad-shouldered man at the bar looks up as he sees us coming. His glance moves to Sambraus. Then he smiles.

“Sammy! Who’ve you dragged in with you?” he asks.

“Six boys from Neuseelen Boarding School,” says Sambraus. “They took off today. So I thought I’d bring them to dear Martin so that they finally get something to see for once. These here are Janosch, Troy, Felix, Florian, another Felix, and Benni! Boys—meet the honorable Martin Lebert!”

“Martin Lebert?” says Janosch. “It’s my pleasure,” and roars with laughter.

The signboard is showing 31.

“Boys, you’re welcome,” says Lebert. “Tonight we’ll make it a real party. If you have any requests, just tell me. What do you want to drink?”

“Bacardi O all around,” says Janosch.

“On my bill,” adds Sambraus.

“Thanks,” says Glob, “but I do have a question.”

“Ask away,” says Martin Lebert in his deep voice.

“Would it be possible, do you think, to get some roast pork?”

“Roast pork?” Lebert repeats. “You’re in a strip joint.”

“I know,” says Glob, “but you might just have some anyway. I’m—kind of hungry.”

“Okay, let me see what can be done. But first, here are your Bacardis.”

He sets them out on the bar. Tall red glasses with straws and bits of lemon swimming around. The guys slam down the drinks as fast as they can. Sambraus pays. I take my time.

A half-naked lady comes over to us. She’s wearing blue-and-white panties with stripes of red sequins. Her top just covers her nipples and is made of blue fur. There are pieces of red confetti twinkling in her long brown hair. Her face is delicate and strikingly made-up.

“Sammy! Who are these cute guys with you?” she asks.

The signboard shows 22.

“Oh, Laura,” says Sambraus, “great to see you again. They’re from boarding school and they’re on the run. I brought them here with me.”

“They’re really nice-looking guys,” says Laura. “Particularly that one!” and she points at me, and comes over waggling her big tits, and strokes my hair.

“In a couple of years you’ll be a great-looking guy, you know that?”

Her voice is soft. I look down her cleavage. The rest of the guys are enthralled and staring. Must be the Bacardi giving them courage. Janosch puts an arm around Laura’s waist.

“Will you be up onstage at some point, too?” he asks expectantly.

“Yes, I will. Right after Angélique. I’ll be dancing just for you, sweet guys!”

Janosch’s ears turn dark red, and he stares at the floor.

“Laura, don’t spoil my boys,” says Lebert, and laughs.

“I won’t. I have to go anyhow. So—be well, and have a great time, sweet guys. And don’t get too close to Sammy here: he’s a tiger!”

She laughs and disappears into the crowd. Her panties are almost nonexistent in the back. You can see her behind. I would like to sink into it. The rest of the guys feel the same. We all stare after her. Sambraus and Lebert are laughing. Her behind is a little tanned, and it’s high. The cheeks of her ass almost stick together. It looks sexy. The signboard is showing a big 10, bigger than the other numbers. Janosch sticks his arms up in the air.

“Finally,” he yells. “Thank you, God, that I’m alive!” and orders another round of Bacardis. Lebert doesn’t ask how old we are; all he does is smile. He’s probably just having a good day. He pours the Bacardi. I have to drain my glass as quick as I can. It makes me feel weird. Everything’s going around. I gasp. The others have already finished their second round. I actually mean to just raise my glass, but Fat Felix tips it down my throat. Everything inside me goes warm. I can feel my heart beating. It’s like a sledgehammer. I sneeze. Think about Laura. And my mother. I hope she’s okay. And I hope she’s not worrying too much. I could go see her now. But I don’t; there wouldn’t be any point. Suddenly everything goes dark. The signboard shows a big 1. I sway forward and then back. Janosch yells out again. At least four arms come around me, and the weight of at least six people pushes me toward the stage. Fat Felix pours something else down my throat. Tastes like beer, but with an aftertaste. The DJ’s clear voice comes out of the loudspeakers and hammers its way into my head.
“And now for the fifth time for you
tonight: Angélique!”
Michael Jackson’s “The Way You Make Me Feel” is boiling under my feet. The guys are screaming. I’m headed up into the air. I stumble. I see Janosch’s face.

“Lebert, I won’t forget this evening, I can tell you! And I won’t forget your name either!”

He runs his hand through my hair and smiles. I’ve never seen Janosch smile like that before, and I’ll never see him smile like that again. Troy has joy nailed all over his face with big fat pushpins. Even Fat Felix is laughing. He leaps into the air, hauling me with him. He can’t wait for Angélique. She’s wearing a man’s black suit. Her hips are swiveling. Her hair is black and reaches to her neck. Her face is soft and clear, with small twinkling brown eyes. She’s hardly more than five feet tall. She’s wearing high heels. Black suede. She insinuates her leg around one of the iron poles. Undoes her pants. Slides down the pole. Hoarse yelling from the audience. Janosch is yelling too. He runs his hands through his hair, grabs Felix’s back. We’re jumping in the air. Angélique is wearing black panties under her trousers. She licks her finger and lets it wander inside. Plays a little. Her brown eyes roll. I get a hard-on. It’s pressing against my jeans.

I feel fantastic. Everything’s going around in circles. I don’t give a shit about anything. My father’s big-breasted friend. My mother’s anxieties. My sister’s love. All I want is to get onto the stage and get to Angélique. And lick her ass. Janosch shoves a ten-mark note into my hand.

“Bet you won’t have the guts to go up onstage and stick this in her panties.”

“And if I do?” I ask.

“Together?”

“Together.”

We push through the rows. I’m already seeing everything in triplicate. Janosch holds me up. We’re shaking. We come to a halt in front of the stage.

Angélique has thrown away her jacket. All she’s wearing is a small bikini top. Her skin is glistening. I almost come. I can no longer feel the ground under my feet. Janosch grabs my shoulder and tries to make eye contact with Angélique. My head’s on fire. The bikini top lands on the floor. I see Angélique’s tits. I’m ready to die. They’re like two peaches, round and beautiful, with dark red nipples. The audience is roaring. Florian and the others come rushing to the front. Fat Felix tips another something down my throat. It tastes of anise and burns in my gullet. Florian and Troy push me up onto the stage. Janosch comes flying into the middle of it from behind. The audience is laughing. The ten-mark note is shaking in my hand. Now I’m down on my knees. Angélique’s navel is undulating in front of me. I see the sweat on her skin, can almost smell it. Angélique puts my hands on her hips. They sink right in. Her tits seem to spread out left and right. My forehead bumps against her stomach. Somewhere in the back of the audience a furious old man is on his feet.

“Whose children are those? Get them off the stage!”

Sambraus raises a hand. “They belong to me.”

The furious man goes silent and sullenly sits back down on his bar stool.

“So do it!” says Janosch. His voice is trembling and he’s shaking his head like mad, looking back over his shoulder. His hand runs over the floor. “We can do it.”

Slowly he gets to his feet. I rub my hand around Angélique’s navel and the ten-mark note follows its every move. Slowly I inch lower. Stick my little finger in her panties. Pull them away a little from her skin. Janosch takes a deep breath. I pull the panties way down and throw in the money. For a moment I leave my finger where it is. I look at Angélique’s cunt, which I can see only in a blur. Her pubic hair is black. Shaved to a point. Janosch bends over me and takes a look inside the panties too. I remove my little finger and let go of the panties, which snap back onto her skin. I slide off the stage. I feel sick.

The music explodes in my ears. A thousand people are pushing toward the stage. I still see them as shadows. See Janosch fall off the stage, laughing like a lunatic. Troy’s sitting in a corner with a glass of white beer, watching Angélique, who’s in the act of throwing her panties into the audience. Fat Felix is in the same corner, and there’s a plate of roast pork in front of him. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

“What more could you want?” he asks. “Beautiful women and good food. I’m in paradise!” He sticks a forkful of pork into his mouth. Troy laughs.

“You guys know you’re the best,” I say. “The best I ever had.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” says Glob. “You’re smashed.”

“I may be, but you guys know you’re the best, the best I ever had.”

“Yeah, and you’re the best we ever had too,” says Glob crossly. “We know!”

“You’re the best of the best,” says Troy and starts laughing again.

“We’re all the best,” I say. “Heroes.
Crazy.
”

Janosch comes stumbling over to us. Sambraus is standing in the corner where there’s a pay phone. His mouth is wide open. His eyes are empty and far away.

I know that I don’t know a thing. I open my eyes. The back seat on which I am sitting is upholstered in brown leather. The back of the front seat has the Alfa Romeo logo on it. I can also see it on the steering wheel. It’s black. Martin Lebert runs his hand over it wearily. We’re going through a crossroads. Sambraus is sitting next to Lebert, pointing in various directions. I’m sharing the back seat with the guys. They’re almost all asleep, except for Glob and Skinny Felix, who have their faces pressed against the window. It’s pretty cramped in here. Troy and Janosch are sitting one on top of the other, both asleep. Janosch has his mouth wide open. Periodically his tongue, which is bright red, flicks out. Florian has propped himself up against his shoulder. I yawn. My head hurts. Outside the sun is blazing. I look at the time: 10:09.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“To the cemetery,” says Sambraus. “My friend from school, Xavier Mils, is buried there. I found out last night that he died.” Sambraus swallows.

“And how did I get to be in this car?” I ask.

“Lebert carried you,” he says. “We couldn’t wake you up. We managed with the others. You were the only one we couldn’t, so we had to lug you into the car. And after we’re done, we’re going straight back to Neuseelen.”

“Straight back to Neuseelen?” I echo, appalled.

“Yes,” says Sambraus. “We’ll tell them we picked you up.”

“Picked us up where?” I ask, confused.

“You know, in the village,” says Sambraus. “You just came down on a lark or something. Lost track of time. And after eleven p.m. nobody can get back into school, because the gates are locked.”

“D’you think they’ll believe us? And what about trying to phone?” I make my right hand into a receiver.

“Of course they’ll believe you. There was simply no phone to be found or something.”

“D’you think it’ll work?”

“It’ll work,” says Lebert. “You just apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused, and that’s that. It was only one night!”