50

 

I decided to go to my apartment and have a few drinks. I had to think it through. I was at a dead end with the Red Sparrow and with my life. I drove on over, parked it, got out. I had to get out of that apartment. I’d been there 5 years. It was like I was building a nest, only nothing was hatching. Too many people knew where I lived. I walked up to my door, unlocked it. I pushed it open, there was something in the way. A body. A babe stretched there. No, hell, it was one of those inflatable dolls, one of those inflatable things some guys made love to. Not me, though, buddy.

The babe was fully inflated. I picked her up and carried her to the couch. Then I noticed a sign around her throat: “Belane, lay off the Red Sparrow or you’ll be less than this dead rubber fuck.”

Nice note. So, I’d had a visitor. Somebody who didn’t want me on the case. But it gave me hope. The Red Sparrow must truly exist or people wouldn’t be acting like this. All I had to do was pick up the trail. There had to be one. There were too many scratchings going on. I could be on something big. Maybe international. Maybe something from another world? The Red Sparrow. Son of a bitch, matters were getting interesting. I made myself a nice drink, had a hit. Then the phone rang. I picked it up.

“Yeah?”

“Pooper, what are you doing?”

A chill ran up my back. It was one of my x-wives, Penny. Last I knew, 5 years or so ago, after our divorce, she had vanished off into somewhere with a guy who worked the tables at Vegas, a Sammy.

“Sorry, you have the wrong number, madam.”

“I know your voice, Pooper. How ya doin’?”

She had this nickname for me. Totally groundless.

“Doin’ lousy,” I said.

“You need company.”

“Uh-uh.”

“You never knew what you needed, Pooper.”

“Maybe not but I know what I don’t need.”

“I’m comin’ up.”

“Uh-uh.”

“I’m downstairs, I’m phoning from the hall phone.”

“Where’s Sammy?”

“Who?”

“Sammy.”

“Oh, that…Listen, I’m comin’ up.”

Penny hung up. I felt awful, as if somebody had smeared shit all over me. I drained my drink and made another. Then there was the knock. I opened the door. There was Penny, 5 years older and 30 pounds heavier. She smiled an awful smile.

“Glad to see me?” she asked.

“Come on in,” I said. She followed me into the other room.

“Fix me a drink, Pooper!”

“Yeah…”

“Hey, what’s that?”

“What?”

“That rubber thing. That rubber woman.”

“That’s an inflatable doll.”

“You use it?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s it doing here?”

“I don’t know. Here’s your drink.”

Penny pushed the doll to the floor and sat down with her drink. She took a hit.

“I’ve missed you, Pooper.”

“Missed what?”

“Oh, little things.”

“Like what?”

“Can’t think of them now.”

She gulped her drink, looked over at me, smiled.

“I need some money, Pooper. Sammy skipped out with everything I had.”

“I’m in hock, Penny. Some guy’s going to bust my sack if I don’t pay the interest on a loan.”

I walked out and poured two more drinks, came back.

“Just a little money, Pooper.”

“I don’t have it, for Christ’s sake.”

“I’ll give you some head. Remember, I used to give good head?”

“Look, all I’ve got is $20. Here…”

I dug it out and handed it to her.

“Thanks…”

Penny stuck it into her purse. We sat there, sipping at the drinks.

“We had some good times together,” she said.

“Early,” I said.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I started getting depressed.”

“Listen, we divorced because we couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah,” she said. “You don’t fuck that thing, do you?”

“No, somebody left it here.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Somebody’s playing games with me.”

“You want some head?”

“No.”

“Can I stay here and drink a while?”

“How long?”

“A couple of hours.”

“All right.”

“Thanks, Pooper.”

When she left she was pretty drunk. I gave her another $20 for a cab. She said it wasn’t far.

After she left I just sat there. Then I picked up the inflatable doll and sat it on the couch next to me. I had a vodka and tonic. It was a quiet evening. A quiet evening in hell. As the earth burned like a rotten log full of termites.