My timing was incredibly bad, my visit a terrible inconvenience, and Al was holding me personally responsible. There was disgust and disdain in every word he slung at me.
“What the fuck do you think, that I’m at every asshole’s fucking disposal? . . . I don’t want to hear it . . . I don’t run a fuckin’ clinic that’s open to the public without appointment! . . . Do I have to fuckin’ cater to every jerkoff, dopehead, and drug addict?”
This went on as I followed Al through his warehouse and toward his ringing telephone. I was to blame for everything wrong with his life, including the mental deficiencies of his nephew and probably also his missing leg, which I began to think was several pounds of flesh exacted by the universe for some heinous crime he’d committed against nature.
“Cuntlapping faggots!!!” he exclaimed after answering the phone only to discover that he was too late. He banged the phone down and with rage-shaking hands reached for his cigarettes. He turned to face me and took a long drag. By the time he exhaled he had calmed down a little. I once again explained to him why I was there and who sent me.
“I shoulda fuckin’ known. The blind leading the fuckin’ blind.”
“Yeah,” I said with a little chuckle.
“Well, what are you standing here for? Bring it in” was his reply.
I asked if there was anyone to help me unload.
“Yeah. You’re looking at him.”
I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. I didn’t want to offend him so I just said, “Okay.”
He looked away from me and bent his mouth into a thin, crooked grin. “Yeah, right. My numbnuts nephew is on his lunch break.” He took another deep inhale and coughed loud. “You’re gonna have to wait for him if you can’t bring it in by yourself.” His words came out mixed with long trails of smoke.
“I can’t lift it by myself,” I confessed.
“Isn’t it on casters?” he said, but I didn’t know what he meant so I just shrugged. “The amp. It should be in a case with casters on the bottom. Little wheels.”
“No, no case with wheels. We used a dolly when we brought it down from his apartment.”
Al shook his head, smiling sarcastically. “Your boss does everything bass-ackward, you know that? I was supposed to get the case too. That was the deal. It’s always some shit with him. That’s why they call it dope . . . you know what I’m saying, right? I should send the fucking thing back.”
I was happy that the verbal abuse had stopped so I agreed with him.
“Okay, pull it into my driveway and let’s see what’s what,” he said as he walked me to the door, steady and nimble for a man on one leg.
I was able to drive the van the two blocks back to Al’s pretty easily. I felt some new confidence in my driving ability and thought that maybe I had underestimated myself and what I was capable of. Al was waiting beneath the open garage doors. I got out of the van and walked around to its back doors.
Al was giving the van a good once-over. “I like your truck. What do you charge?”
“For what?”
“For hauling. I need another backup ’cause my main guy is retarded and my backup is a borderline moron. What do you charge?”
I didn’t know how to answer his question. I didn’t even know if I was getting paid for this at all. Lou didn’t mention money. I asked Al what he paid his regular guy as I opened up the van’s rear doors.
“Depends,” Al replied as he came around to look inside at the giant amplifier. He shook his head.
“I can’t believe that jackoff forgot the case. Can you bring it by later?”
“Sure,” I lied through my teeth.
“Course, I’m not gonna pay you extra ’cause that was part of the deal. That’s his fuck-up, not mine.”
“Of course,” I said matter-of-factly. Al and I were on the same side now.
“Arright. Close it up and lock it. We gotta wait for my nephew.” Al sighed heavy. “Let’s go relax till dipshit gets here. You like root beer or Pepsi?”
“Root beer.”
“I got orange too. You like orange?”
“I do. Thanks.”
“Nehi, not Crush. That okay, Hopalong?”
Al had one leg but I was Hopalong.
twenty-eight
The first film Smitty showed us was of a blond Swedish-looking woman going down on a black man. The movie was silent and must have been made in the early sixties, maybe even before then. I had never seen this kind of thing on film before so at first it was a shock to my system. Veronica sat quiet between me and Smitty on the edge of the bed. She didn’t comment at all on the movie. Smitty just stared at the images on the screen and sipped his drink.
It was dark. The only light in the room was the flickering from the projector bulb and the pornography on the wall. The first film ended how one would imagine it to, but despite the predictability of the conclusion it was still strange and surprising to see it actually happen. Smitty stood up and asked if I wanted another drink or if Veronica needed anything. She shook her head but I asked for another. Smitty told me to help myself as he pushed some buttons on the projector and the reel started to unwind.
I tried to grab Veronica’s hand before I got up to make my drink but she subtly moved it away. I was just trying to see if she was okay. There was a distance growing between us. She didn’t look at me at all during the first film, even when I tried to make eye contact with her. She did give my hand a squeeze just after the lights first went out, right before the initial
