“Farrow let me put them on you too.”
“It’s okay… you enjoy… I’m cool…”
“Get over here.” Missy grabbed me, wiping the cucumber paste off her face, and smearing it on mine.
Fading back onto the planet below the steel skeleton of the Williamsburg Bridge, I woke up aching in Adelora’s warm lap. The lawyer had a bruised forehead and two determined bloodshot black eyes that no one in their right mind would contest. It hurt me to see her that way. I wish my beating was enough, but the shields couldn’t help, but double their pleasure. We spilled onto Delancey. Two pairs of eyes watched us in the same little mirror. Grinding their teeth. Wrinkling their tense faces. They were at another career moment. Wondering if they were showing up to a raging pulse or melting block of ice. The traffic was the same as always, but their minds had no space left for patience. Sgt. Bethany Powers leaned down and put the portable siren on the dash, driving over the median, and the wrong way down Norfolk Street. Something hit the side window.
“Sounded like a pebble.” Sgt. Bethany Powers pounded the gas. I looked up imagining the shadowy kids on the top of the tower across from the temple. They were all out of fresh piss for the unmarked cars. Instead a shower of stones followed by bricks and bottles. Broken glass fell on us like icy windblown ashes from Thor’s coolie. Die machine.
“Go Farrow go.” Adelora hoisted me with her legs, out back window. I hit the pavement with a bone-jarring thud, sinking into a quicksand mattress.
{XLV}
A BEATEN BODY IN PAIN. Almost past Grand. Didn’t remember getting back on my feet. I felt my teeth sharpen. Eyes zoom microscopic. A straight shot in the dark through Seward Park. No sign of the heat on my back. Maybe my favorite cops were finally out of commission. Down for the count.
“Special olympics ain’t ’til next month.” Mayor’s orders, a patrolman let loose an innocent fart. No chance I would hang around to grab a whiff. Still it followed me through the trees and sprayshowers, marking his spot with his scent.
A block or so to go. Jefferson Street. A crafty skel in the shadows takes an interest my cuffs. His lip was swollen retarded. His shirt was stretched down exposing a shoulder.
“You didn’t see anything.” The mural glowed beside us.
“… give a shit…” He had cuffs of his own.
Turn the corner. Madison Street. The numbers are going down. Less than a block to go. Paralysis enacts its ploy for mental siege. Recognizable voices begin to harmonize nefariously. Distinct pin-dots of light grow together to form a forgotten smudge on the city’s canvas. Illuminated, the somber streets between the bridges seemed to grow fuzzy.
Kids on the stoop, parents off finding new adventures. 219 Madison Street. Missy’s breathing above it all. The towers exploding from across the river. The jet engine shaking the island bungalows. The jungle lioness waking up to find a metropolis planted on top of her tail.
I’m staring at a red door.
“Our first date, huh…” Missy whispered through the coming attractions at the Ziegfield.
“Missy, I didn’t think you’d show up.”
“Farrow. I’m sorry. Don’t put that in your book.” Missy smiled teasing me.
“What?”
“That I’m always late.”
“Oh you remembered that I write. Don’t worry beauty is always worth waiting for.”
“I respect that about you.” It was the only time she said that. I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the writing or the waiting.
{XLVI}
FIGHT THE MEMORIES. A FADED crimson cage of thin iron to keep out yesterday’s demons. Slide through the crack, propped open with a cement block and a jade statue of Buddha. The dim bulbs in the hallway lamps didn’t seem to get enough power. Floors and walls trapped in time. The old door shut at my back killing the street.
“Chiara.” I whispered to myself. Stomach in my throat, trudging up the timeworn stairs. Senses pushed beyond their peaks. Infantile whines and wails. Cantonese and Spanish resonated through the walls. The building was panting.
Each step taken was to be totally absorbed by the floor. Creaks kept to a minimum. Apt 5E was at the top of the walk-up facing the street. A pair of black leather boots were jammed in the door to keep it open. She was waiting for me.
Immediate sweat covered my forehead. The brick oven was filled with tenement ghosts that life painted over. The overhead lights were off. Large candles burnt a third down were placed haphazardly. The flames were trying to escape the wax, but the breeze cutting through the windows wasn’t strong enough. A large claw foot bathtub was arm’s distance from the stove and small dinner table. Terrible orange linoleum tiles with brown diamonds blighted the kitchen. There were two other small narrow rooms lined up in a rectangle. It was the type of place that would always be dirty. The apartment was missing furniture. It didn’t appear to be a place that was recently lived in.
“Missy?” She sat there cross-legged and silent in the murky bedroom.
“I was going to tell you Farrow.” Kiko, the imposter was waiting for me in an almost meditative stance on the bed by the window. Indestructible, Chiara bounced up and down in her lap. Keeping her body stiff, Kiko’s eyes examined my pummeled face, ending on my handcuffs, shaking her head in disbelief as if her revelations came true.
“I was going to tell you Farrow.”
“I heard you the first time. What is it Kiko?” I shook the cuffs to keep the quiet from conquering us all.
“Missy wasn’t into being a mom. She disappeared even before Chiara was out of the NICU. You picked the wrong girl Farrow. Wish I knew you sooner.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“You don’t want to believe it, but it’s true. Percy was going to put the baby up for adoption. It wasn’t blood. I told him to give her to you, but he said you’re too fucked up.”
“I’ll find him in the afterlife.”
“Hawaii threatened the old man. Saying she was going to tell you. Percy fearing for his life worked out a deal with Hawaii letting her collect Missy’s royalties.”
“Missy never popped up?”
“She went ghost and nobody’s seen her since. I found all this out from Gloom, who was planning to write her next book about it.”
“Capitalistic bitch.”
“Hawaii dangled this in front of Percy’s face coaxing a generous offer.”
“And you?”
“I threatened to turn Hawaii in and took what I could for myself. I’ve been raising Chiara, so we could be a family. I wasn’t sure why I wanted it so badly, until I got to know you.” A wariness floated in Kiko’s voice. I took a few steps closer trying to get a good look at Chiara, but all I got was the shadow of a baby and the moon outside reflecting off a large rectangular cleaver.
“A family?”
“Mr. Michael. It’s true.” Kuroneko’s voice echoed from the closet.
“I wasn’t seeing things?” Except the cleaver that wasn’t there.
“I tried to make you love me. I know it’s fast and love is only a word created by a poet.” Kiko had to know she lost me. Some acts were unforgiveable.