"Sometimes I get very snappish with my help, but then I get over it and they forgive me. You just don't know what those goddamned lawyers are like! They want everything immediately, and they don't think about the time it takes to do it."
"Lawyers and doctors are the most overpaid, spoiled members of our society. Next in line is your corner garage mechanic. Then you might throw in your dentist."
Debra crossed her legs and her skirt hiked up.
"You have very nice legs, Debra. And you know how to dress. You remind me of the girls in my mother's day. That's when women were women."
"You've got a great line, Henry."
"You know what I mean. It's especially true of L. A. Once not long ago I left town and when I returned, do you know how I knew I was back?"
"Well, no…"
"It was the first woman I passed on the street. She had on a skirt so short you saw the crotch of her panties. And through the front of the panties-pardon me-you could see her cunt hairs. I knew I was back in L.A."
"Where were you? On Main Street?"
"Main Street, hell. It was Beverly and Fairfax."
"Do you like the wine?"
"Yes, and I like your place. I might even move in here."
"My landlord's jealous."
"Anybody else who might be jealous?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I work hard and I just like to come home and relax in the evening. I like to decorate this place. My girlfriend-she works for me-and I are going to antique shops tomorrow morning. Do you want to come along?"
"Will I be here in the morning?"
Debra didn't answer. She poured me another drink and sat beside me on the couch. I leaned over and kissed her. As I did I pulled her skirt further back and peeked at that nylon leg. It looked good. When we finished kissing she pulled her skirt down again, but I had already memorized the leg. She got up and went to the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush. Then there was a wait. She was probably applying more lipstick. I took out my hanky and wiped my mouth. The hanky came away smeared with red. I was finally getting everything the boys in high school had gotten, the rich pretty well-dressed golden boys with their new automobiles, and me with my sloppy old clothes and broken down bicycle.
Debra walked out. She sat down and lit a cigarette.
"Let's fuck," I said.
Debra walked into the bedroom. There was a half a bottle of wine left on the coffee table. I poured myself a drink and lit one of her cigarettes. She turned off the rock music. That was nice.
It was quiet. I poured another drink. Maybe I would move in? Where would I put the typewriter?
"Henry?"
"What?"
"Where are you?"
"Wait. I just want to finish this drink."
"All right."
I finished the glass and then poured down what was left in the bottle. I was in Playa del Rey. I undressed, leaving my clothes in a messy pile on the couch. I had never been a dresser. My shirts were all faded and shrunken, 5 or 6 years old, threadbare. My pants the same. I hated department stores, I hated the clerks, they acted so superior, they seemed to know the secret of life, they had a confidence I didn't possess. My shoes were always broken down and old, I disliked shoe stores too. I never purchased anything until it was completely unusable, and that included automobiles. It wasn't a matter of thrift, I just couldn't bear to be a buyer needing a seller, seller being so handsome and aloof and superior. Besides, it all took time, time when you could just be laying around and drinking.
I walked into the bedroom with just my shorts on. I was conscious of my white belly lolling out over the shorts. But I made no effort to suck in my gut. I stood by the side of the bed, lowered my shorts, stepped out of them. Suddenly I wanted more to drink. I climbed into the bed. I got under the covers. Then I turned toward Debra. I held her. We were pressed together. Her mouth was open. I kissed her. Her mouth was like a wet cunt. She was ready. I sensed it. There would be no need of foreplay. We kissed and her tongue flicked in and out of my mouth. I caught it between my teeth, held it. Then I rolled over on top of Debra and slid it in.
I think it was the way her head was turned away to one side as I fucked her. It turned me on. Her head was turned away and bounced on the pillow with each stroke. Now and then as I was stroking I turned her head toward me and kissed that blood-red mouth. It was finally working for me. I was fucking all the women and girls I had gazed longingly after on the sidewalks of Los Angeles in 1937, the last really bad year of the depression, when a piece of ass cost two bucks and nobody had any money (or hope) at all. I'd had to wait a long time for mine. I worked and pumped. I was having a red hot useless fuck! I grabbed Debra's head once again, reached that lipstick mouth just one more time as I spurted into her, into her diaphragm.
90
The next day was Saturday and Debra cooked us breakfast.
"Are you coming antique hunting with us today?"
"All right."
"Are you hungover?" she asked.
"Not too bad."
We ate in silence for a while, then she said, "I liked your reading at The Lancer. You were drunk but it came through."
"Sometimes it doesn't."
"When are you going to read again?"
"Somebody's been phoning from Canada. They're trying to raise funds."
"Canada! Can I go with you?"
"We'll see."
"Are you staying tonight?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
"I will then."
"Great…"
We finished breakfast and I went to the bathroom while Debra did the dishes. I flushed and wiped, flushed again, washed my hands, came out. Debra was cleaning up at the sink. I grabbed her from behind.
"You can use my toothbrush if you want," she said.
"Is my breath bad?"
"It's all right."
"Like hell."
"You can also shower if you want…"
"That too…?"
"Stop it. Tessie won't be here for an hour. We can clear away the cobwebs."
I went and let the bathwater run. The only time I liked to shower was in a motel. In the bathroom there was a photo of a man on the wall-dark, long hair, standard, handsome face run through with the usual idiocy. He smiled white teeth at me. I brushed what was left of my discolored teeth. Debra had mentioned that her ex-husband was a shrink.
Debra showered after I was through. I poured myself a small glass of wine and sat in a chair looking out the front window. Suddenly I remembered that I had forgotten to mail my ex-woman her child support money. Oh well. I'd do it Monday.
I felt peaceful in Playa del Rey. It was good to get out of the crowded, dirty court where I lived. There was no shade, and the sun beat down mercilessly on us. We were all insane in one way or another. Even the dogs and the cats were insane, and the birds and the newsboys and the hookers.
For us, in east Hollywood, the toilets never worked properly and the landlord's cut-rate plumber could never quite fix them. We left the tank lids off and hand-manipulated the plunger. The faucets dripped, the roaches crawled, the dogs crapped everywhere, and the screens had large holes in them that let in flies and all manner of strange flying insects.
The bell bing-bonged and I got up and opened the door. It was Tessie. She was in her forties, a swinger, a redhead with obviously dyed hair.
"You're Henry, aren't you?"
"Yes, Debra's in the bathroom. Please sit down." She had on a short red skirt. Her thighs were good. Her ankles and calves weren't bad either. She looked like she loved to fuck. I walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Debra, Tessie's here…"
The first antique store was a block or two from the water. We drove down in the Volks and went in. I walked around with them. Everything was priced $800, $1500… old clocks, old chairs, old tables. The prices were unbelievable. Two or three clerks stood around and rubbed their hands. They evidently worked on salary plus commission. The owner certainly located the items for almost nothing in Europe or the Ozark Mountains. I got bored looking at huge price tags. I told the girls I'd wait in the car.