Flash walked to the hut. Flash dragged two dead men out. Flash dumped them and pissed on their heads.
Wayne walked up. Wayne got stage fright. Do it. Show them. Show _Pete_.
He pulled his knife. He picked a scalp. He dug the blade in.
o o o
Bakersfield-travel-fucked. Dusty streets/dusty skies/dusty air. The San Joaquin Valley-wall-to-wall dust-farm dirt and glare.
He was travel-fucked. He jumped Cuba to Snipe Key. He jumped Snipe Key to Bon Secour. He jumped Bon Secour to New Orleans. He took three flights west. He got bad sleep. He went off Dexedrine.
He called Saigon. Mesplиde patched him to Pete. He praised the run. He praised the guns. He ragged Bob's number-dips.
Pete was pissed. Pete ragged Bob. _Stamp_ the numbers-_scare_ the Beard-flaunt U.S. Code.
Wayne called Barb. It was tense. Tense off that fight. Barb had news. Barb had a pending gig-adjunct-USO.
We're doing Saigon. We're doing Da Nang. Please lure Pete to the show. He said sure. He said I'll be back. He said I'll be travel-fucked.
Wayne cruised Bakersfield. Wayne read his maps. He flew in. He glommed a rental car. He cruised straight back out.
Mextown ran east. The truck farms ran east. You had beer bars! trailers/motels. You had dust. You had dust bugs. You had Mex cribs galore.
He hit the bars. He sipped beer. He coaxed information. Barmen talked. Barmen travelogued.
Wetback whores? _Shit_. Wetbacks _are_ whores.
They jump borders. They steal jobs. They work cheap. They overbreed. They live to fuck. They whelp like chihuahuas. They pick crops. They get paid-they fuck _real_ whores then. Wetback pimps pimp wetback whores-the payday proliFUCKation.
They swarm motels. They production-fuck. They proliFUCKate. Check the Sun-Glo. Check the Vista-check the whole scene. Payday's tomorrow-the wets proFUCKate-you'll dig the scene.
Wayne dropped the name "Wendell Durfee." Wayne dredged up some shrugs.
Who's that? Some jigaboo?
That's right-he's colored. He's quite loud and tall.
Sheeeit-
Wetbacks hate jigs. Crop men hate jigs. That jig better haul.
o o o
Payday:
Wayne cruised truck farms. Wayne loitered. Wayne watched.
Wets pick cabbage. Wets yank weeds. Wets fill garbage drums. Sirens blow. The wets yell. The wets drop hoes and run.
They hit pay trucks. They line up. They shag cash and run-families/_hombres_/_muchachos_.
Some clique up. Some walk off. Some liiiiinger. _Hombres todos_-men with shit-eater grins.
Trucks pull up. _Hombres_ greet _hombres_. _Hombres_ dispense: Jar brew/ rubbers/French ticklers/T-Bird/white port/nude Polaroids. Beaver pix of Mexi-whores-let's proFUCKate.
Wayne walked over. _Hombres_ cringed. Wayne vibed _Migra_ fuzz. Wayne mollified. Wayne spoke pidgin-Mex. Wayne coaxed info.
Dig:
The truck men pimped. They signed johns up early-supply meets demand. Go to the Sun-Glo and Vista. See the Fuckathon.
Wets scoped the beaver pix. Wets signed up. Wayne flashed Wendell Durfee pix and got nada. Shit-we ain't seen him/we don't know him/we hate _negritos_.
Wayne split. Wayne braced more truck pimps. Wayne got more nada. He regrouped. He read his maps. He crossed the tracks and cruised Darktown. _De facto_ segregation-wets north/coloreds south.
He yawned. He fought sleep-fuckification. He slept too long last night. He slept fourteen hours. He logged some bad dreams.
Barb rags him-don't pop pills-he rags Barb back. Don't you do it-you'll age bad-I love you.
Bongo co-starred. Bongo convulsed. Bongo snitched Wendell Durfee. Wendell's in Cuba. He's got the cold six thousand. He's got a Castro beard.
Wayne cruised Darktown. Wayne hit pool halls. Wayne hit lounge spots. He vibed cop. He vibed grief. He wore his gun out.
Cops saw him. Cops waved. Cops vibed brother cop. He braced coloreds. He flashed his Wendell pix. He got huh?s. He got indignation.
You dig Watts? It could happen _here_. It could happen NOW.
He worked through it. He worked all day. He wore Darktown out. Nobody knew Wicked Wendell. Nobody knew jackshit.
Dusk hit. He drove to the Sun-Glo. He caught the Fuckathon.
Ten rooms/ten whores/ten parking-lot lines. Wets twenty-deep and pimps with stopwatches-you fuck off _my_ clock.
Snack stands-all jerry-rigged/all run by _mamacitas_. They served beans. They served _cerveza_. They served _carnitas_.
It was hot. Fried pork spattered. Jalopy pipes popped.
Doors opened. Doors shut. Wayne got snapshots: Nude girls and wideleg poses. Soiled sheets trashed up.
The lines moved fast-six minutes per fuck. Cops stood around. Pimps greased them-a dollar a fuck.
The cops ate _carnitas_. The cops worked the line. The cops sold bootjack penicillin. Wayne stood in line. Wayne drew stares. Wayne showed _his_ snapshots.
_Que? No se. Negrito muy feo_.
Wayne braced a mama-san. Wayne waved fifty bucks. He pidgin-talked. He told her-beer on the house.
She smiled. She shagged Lucky Lagers. She served the wets. She served the pimps. She served the cops.
She praised Wayne-_gringo muy bueno_.
Wayne got applause. Wets pumped his hands. Pimps waved sombreros. He re-showed his pix. They went around. They toured all the fuckistos. The pix circuited. The pix got pawed. The pix came back.
A cop nudged Wayne. "I ran that smoke out of town three months ago. He was trying to pimp white girls, which didn't sit right with me."
Wayne goose bumped. The cop tapped his teeth.
"I heard he was tight with a smoke named King Arthur. I think he owns a queer bar in Fresno."
o o o
The Playpen Lounge was a storefront. The Playpen Lounge sat off skid row.
Wayne drove to Fresno. Wayne polled street creeps. Wayne found it. The creeps spieled lore-the Pen's a pus-pit-all fear the King!
He's this mean swish. He's Haiti-bred. He's pure calypso. He sports a crown. He's a he-she. He's a hermaphrodite.
Wayne walked in. The decor clashed-Camelot meets Liberace.
Velvet walls. Purple drapes. Nail-studded armor. A bar and wall booths-pink Naugahyde.
A jukebox cranked. Mel Tormй crooned. The natives stirred. Wayne drew looks. Wayne drew ooh-la-las.
Colored trade-queens and jockers.
There's the King. He's got a booth. He's got his crown. He's got the pedigree: Knife scars/mashed ears/pipe-wound regalia.
Wayne walked over. Wayne sat down. King Arthur sipped a frappй.
"You're too haughty to be Fresno PD, and you're too butch to be anything but a cop."
The jukebox vibrated. Wayne reached back. Wayne grabbed and yanked the cord.
"My money. Your information."
The King tapped his crown. It was kid-pageant issue-rhinestones on tin.
"I just consulted my thinking cap. It said, 'Policemen demand, they don't pay.'"
The King lisped. The King trilled. The King sashayed. Two fags swished by. One tittered. One waved.
Wayne said, "I _was_ a cop."
"Oh, pshaw, you silly savage. You didn't have to say that."
Wayne pulled out his money. Wayne fanned his money. Wayne flashed a table lamp down.
"Wendell Durfee. I heard you know him."
The King tapped his crown. "I'm getting a vision… yes… there it is… you're that Vegas cop who lost his poor wife to Wendell."
The jukebox popped. Kay Starr popped on. Wayne reached back and popped the cord. A fag grabbed his hand. A fag scratched his palm. A fag giggled lewd.
Wayne pulled his arm back. The fags giggled. The fags withdrew. They swished off. They vamped Wayne. They blew kisses.
Wayne wiped his hand. The King laughed. The King went oh, pshaw.
"I had a brief encounter with Wendell, several months ago. I bought a string of girls from him."