But didn’t you ask Dolphin why he was doing it?
I did, but all he said was: Be loyal to your family, do as I say. So I said I’m sure Romeo isn’t that bad off. I don’t know if he really believed me or whatever it is he has against the Castros just became more important, but the only thing he said was: He’s my son, I’ll handle it how I see fit.
The things people inscribe on tombstones, even if only with their breath. I will love you always. I can never forgive you. Forget about me. I’ll be back. You’ll pay for this. Words that etch deeper than a chisel. Erasing those things was what the Redeemer was there for. He excelled at nothing but the ability to diminish malediction; to free folks from cell blocks, or their own promises. The fact that he was never in the way meant he could be used like a screwdriver and then stuck back in the toolbox, no need to thank him at all. That fix you’re in? Take care of it entre nous. That secret of yours? We’ll keep it entre nous. That fine you got? Entre nous, let’s lower it; that alibi you need, entre nous we’ll cook it up. Dirtywork is providence.
That was what he knew, how to efface set-in-stone truths. But he still had nothing to grab hold of in this tale of lonely deaths, nothing but pieces of lies. Solid lies, but lies nonetheless.
In the rearview he saw a black truck riding up on them hard, several yards behind. He slowed to let them pass but the truck pulled alongside, someone in it looked at Baby Girl and then it cut them off. Two badasses emerged with faces that confirmed they were indeed very big badasses. The one who got out on the passenger side didn’t have to tell the Redeemer to hustle. The Redeemer turned off the engine and got out. The badasses weren’t wearing facemasks either.
Girl gets out too, said one of them.
The city had seen other times when people died by the cartload, but back then it was bankrolled black lung and mass mine collapses — the usual. Perhaps because life was short, people had learned not to stick their noses into the affairs of others: existence was already a bitch without worrying about them as well. Perhaps that was also why they were all so fixated on form, on nicedaying and areyouwelling and thankgodding and tookinding. Mechanisms to mark distance. But these thugs knew nothing of etiquette.
The Unruly got out of the car and went and stood behind the Redeemer, arms crossed.
What’d you do to the other girl? asked one.
Nothing, she died of this shit.
The badass adjusted his dark glasses, took a few steps toward the Bug, stared at Baby Girl a few seconds and returned.
You need the body?
I do, said the Redeemer. Only reason I’m out is so I can deliver it.
Thing is, we need a body, the badass said. But I guess there’s lots of them around these days.
He said something to the other badass and they got back in their vehicle. The Redeemer and the Unruly returned to theirs.
Normally it’s the dead that are rotten, not the living, the Unruly said.
Her proclamation made the Redeemer want to up and forget about everything and have everybody up and forget about him. He wanted to crawl under a rock or onto some furniture. Who knows why we were left here like collateral, he thought. I guess some other Redeemer will negotiate our release.
They arrived at the Big House and he handed the Unruly the keys to start clearing the way, got Baby Girl inside, lay her on his bed. The Unruly stared at the Redeemer’s possessions as tho shocked to see he didn’t live in a cave, then said I’m outta here, don’t move her without telling us.
And she left.
The Redeemer leaned back against the wooden table by the bed and tried to look Baby Girl over with a professional eye, but it was hard since what he really wanted was to sit and hold her hand. So that was what he did. She was cold but still a little soft.
We’ll get you cleaned up, young lady, he said.
He stood, smoothed her skirt, closed her eyelids all the way, combed her eyebrows. He found an iron he hadn’t used in months, carefully removed Baby Girl’s cardigan and ironed it on the table and then put it back on.
What else? He knew there was more but he had no desire to do those things and didn’t know how. He’d ask Vicky to help. He pulled out his celclass="underline" no signal.
He went out to the street, arranged to go pick up Vicky, then called the Neeyanderthal. Get over here, it’s almost time.
The Redeemer was about to go back into the Big House when he saw Three Times Blonde turn the corner. He stood waiting for her at the entrance and, when she arrived, gestured with his hands to say Huh?
Three Times Blonde tossed her head and said Seeing as you’re so useless…
She took him by the hand and pulled him indoors. She walked in front, smiling at him — this time most definitely at him — with her little pantyline.
Before going into her place the Redeemer said Let me lock up.
Like you have treasure in there, she said, not knowing that today more than any other day he would have happily stabbed someone to protect what was inside.
He turned the key in his lock and went to Three Times Blonde’s place; she took him to her room and pointed to the bed. Lie down.
The Redeemer lay down and in the time it took him to wriggle out of his clothes she’d taken off all hers. That was the first time he’d seen every bit of her, a burning miracle of flesh. He thought he might come just from staring at her waxed lips, her landing strip; that he might come in the anticipation of sucking her breasts, which looked larger and more obliging than last time; that he might come just from envisioning the feel of her ass in his hands and the way he’d lay her down on the bed and this time, yes, o thank you most holy saint of horndogs, finally they would fuck; and he tried to get up but she said No: I said lie down!
He lay down and watched Three Times Blonde touch herself with both hands; then she knelt on the bed and slid him into her mouth.
The Redeemer clutched at the sides of the mattress as she ran her mouth and hands over his cock. He wanted to say Stop, but never ever ever ever would he tell her to stop, and just in time she pulled him out and said There. She opened the little box of condoms she’d placed on the dresser and as she took one out the Redeemer said Weren’t you scared of going out on the street?
What scares me is the stupid shit people are doing on the street. Not being there.
And she put the condom on him.
Don’t do a thing, she said.
She knelt over the Redeemer and began very slowly to lower herself down so that he entered her. He could feel his cock changing temperature as it made its way inside. Three Times Blonde began moving in circles, moving almost without moving, from the inside out. Then she let herself fall over him, brushing his chest with her nipples, and slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he ran his hands down her back and held her hips, which never stopped grinding. Everything was better. She was better, life was better, this woman wetting herself with his cock — nothing better could possibly occur in the rest of his everloving life. He made no attempt to show her what he could have done, and she fucked him at her own sweet speed, all by herself, until she straightened back up and came as if her bones were going to burst through her skin, arms back, stuttering one single vowel with each spasm. Then she fell back on top of him and he rocked her hips with his hands, and she continued to come in little splinters, in quick intakes of breath, until he too was done.
What colors did you see? he asked.
Black, she said.
He heard noise outside. His other instincts activated immediately; he moved Three Times Blonde gently, got up, put on pants and shirt, and left.