[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
one. Good advice for the Village, good advice for a poet.
Youse can call me Red, Miss, he said, with what I
think was meant to be a smile.
He didn t offer me anything further, but he didn t need
to. I was pretty good at arithmetic. His name was Red Far-
rell, and by the way everyone behaved in his presence, I
knew he was one of the notorious Hudson Dusters, whose
territory was everything south of Thirteenth Street and west
of Broadway. That meant the Village proper.
Though they were nocturnal, as was I, I d seen very
little of them. They tended to stick to the houses they oc-
cupied, rent-free of course, below Horatio and around
Bethune, and on Hudson. They terrorized a neighborhood
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136
Annette Meyers
with atrociously loud parties, with music and dancing,
hooch and cocaine, with food supplied for free by fright-
ened local merchants. Every so often they d be raided by
the police and closed down. They d move into another
house in the area and start all over again.
But what did they want of me?
I found out soon enough when Red Farrell fast-walked
me into St. Vincent s. The sisters expressed no fear of
him, treating him instead as an incorrigible who might
yet be saved. And Red s behavior with them was courtly
and almost charming. He removed his wool cap; his hair
was an inferno. One of his ears had been bitten and
chewed. He was a sight to behold.
Up the stairs we went, past the stained-glass depic-
tions of St. Lawrence and the Sacred Heart, and down the
hall toward Harry s room, where one of Red s cohorts
was sitting in a chair tilted back on two legs against the
wall. I left curiosity and bemusement, jolted back to un-
ease. What had Harry done to them? Had they been re-
sponsible for his beating? If so, had they returned to
finish him off?
I decided this was a foolish thought. If they were a
threat to Harry, why would the sisters not have been ner-
vous with them around?
On closer inspection, the man in the chair was not a
total stranger. His unlikely moniker was Goo Goo Knox,
and I d seen him with Harry, leaving Harry s flat one
night, shortly after I arrived in New York.
When Goo Goo Knox saw us, the front legs of the
chair hit the floor and he jumped to his feet. He whipped
off his wilted derby and bowed to me. Nice to see ya,
Miss. He didn t wait for me to respond, but said to my
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FREE LOVE 137
escort, who had finally dropped his hold of me, What s
up, Red?
She fell in da road and I done me duty.
Whacha got in da box, Miss?
Cookies, Mr. Knox. I was on my way here, and while
I don t want to seem ungrateful, I could have done with-
out the keeper, thank you very much.
We was watchin you dint get into trouble, Miss,
Goo Goo Knox said.
That did it. The ancestor who gave me my green eyes
and red hair also bequeathed me my Irish temper. I
pointed a furious finger, first at Red Farrell and then Goo
Goo Knox, and yelled, You have no right to interfere in
my life.
Would you believe, they flinched? Now, Miss
Red Farrell said, it was a service we done.
Service? I don t want your service! My voice rose
and I feared I d do something banal, like stamp my little
foot.
Goo Goo jerked his thumb toward Harry s closed
door. We dint do it for youse, we done it for Sherlock.
W8721-Free Love 12/12/00 3:25 PM Page 138
Chapter Twenty-six
Hey
When I m determined, there s no stopping me, as
you ve no doubt already noticed. I flung open the door,
shot into a gin-sodden room adrift in smoke, and
slammed the door behind me.
They were sitting on Harry s bed, three of them, one
more disreputable than the other. One of them held a bot-
tle in his hand in midmovement. Harry was propped up in
a chair, wearing a ghoulish grin, his leg in its plaster rest-
ing on the bed. Four pairs of eyes flattened me against the
door.
Olwer, Harry mushmouthed.
One ruffian got up off the bed and sauntered over to
me. He wore a long, dark green velvet jacket, baggy
trousers, and an aviator type once-white silk around his
neck. With his long dark hair, and bushy brows that hung
in wiry threads over his black eyes, and his smashed
nose, he was no one you would want to encounter on a
lonely street at night, or even, for that matter, in broad
daylight. He gave me the once-over, as if I were a piece
of meat at the Washington Market. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
one. Good advice for the Village, good advice for a poet.
Youse can call me Red, Miss, he said, with what I
think was meant to be a smile.
He didn t offer me anything further, but he didn t need
to. I was pretty good at arithmetic. His name was Red Far-
rell, and by the way everyone behaved in his presence, I
knew he was one of the notorious Hudson Dusters, whose
territory was everything south of Thirteenth Street and west
of Broadway. That meant the Village proper.
Though they were nocturnal, as was I, I d seen very
little of them. They tended to stick to the houses they oc-
cupied, rent-free of course, below Horatio and around
Bethune, and on Hudson. They terrorized a neighborhood
W8721-Free Love 12/12/00 3:25 PM Page 136
136
Annette Meyers
with atrociously loud parties, with music and dancing,
hooch and cocaine, with food supplied for free by fright-
ened local merchants. Every so often they d be raided by
the police and closed down. They d move into another
house in the area and start all over again.
But what did they want of me?
I found out soon enough when Red Farrell fast-walked
me into St. Vincent s. The sisters expressed no fear of
him, treating him instead as an incorrigible who might
yet be saved. And Red s behavior with them was courtly
and almost charming. He removed his wool cap; his hair
was an inferno. One of his ears had been bitten and
chewed. He was a sight to behold.
Up the stairs we went, past the stained-glass depic-
tions of St. Lawrence and the Sacred Heart, and down the
hall toward Harry s room, where one of Red s cohorts
was sitting in a chair tilted back on two legs against the
wall. I left curiosity and bemusement, jolted back to un-
ease. What had Harry done to them? Had they been re-
sponsible for his beating? If so, had they returned to
finish him off?
I decided this was a foolish thought. If they were a
threat to Harry, why would the sisters not have been ner-
vous with them around?
On closer inspection, the man in the chair was not a
total stranger. His unlikely moniker was Goo Goo Knox,
and I d seen him with Harry, leaving Harry s flat one
night, shortly after I arrived in New York.
When Goo Goo Knox saw us, the front legs of the
chair hit the floor and he jumped to his feet. He whipped
off his wilted derby and bowed to me. Nice to see ya,
Miss. He didn t wait for me to respond, but said to my
W8721-Free Love 12/12/00 3:25 PM Page 137
FREE LOVE 137
escort, who had finally dropped his hold of me, What s
up, Red?
She fell in da road and I done me duty.
Whacha got in da box, Miss?
Cookies, Mr. Knox. I was on my way here, and while
I don t want to seem ungrateful, I could have done with-
out the keeper, thank you very much.
We was watchin you dint get into trouble, Miss,
Goo Goo Knox said.
That did it. The ancestor who gave me my green eyes
and red hair also bequeathed me my Irish temper. I
pointed a furious finger, first at Red Farrell and then Goo
Goo Knox, and yelled, You have no right to interfere in
my life.
Would you believe, they flinched? Now, Miss
Red Farrell said, it was a service we done.
Service? I don t want your service! My voice rose
and I feared I d do something banal, like stamp my little
foot.
Goo Goo jerked his thumb toward Harry s closed
door. We dint do it for youse, we done it for Sherlock.
W8721-Free Love 12/12/00 3:25 PM Page 138
Chapter Twenty-six
Hey
When I m determined, there s no stopping me, as
you ve no doubt already noticed. I flung open the door,
shot into a gin-sodden room adrift in smoke, and
slammed the door behind me.
They were sitting on Harry s bed, three of them, one
more disreputable than the other. One of them held a bot-
tle in his hand in midmovement. Harry was propped up in
a chair, wearing a ghoulish grin, his leg in its plaster rest-
ing on the bed. Four pairs of eyes flattened me against the
door.
Olwer, Harry mushmouthed.
One ruffian got up off the bed and sauntered over to
me. He wore a long, dark green velvet jacket, baggy
trousers, and an aviator type once-white silk around his
neck. With his long dark hair, and bushy brows that hung
in wiry threads over his black eyes, and his smashed
nose, he was no one you would want to encounter on a
lonely street at night, or even, for that matter, in broad
daylight. He gave me the once-over, as if I were a piece
of meat at the Washington Market. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]