Last Exit to Brooklyn

by Hubert Selby Jr.

  She was in love with Vinnie and rarely came home while he was in jail, but stayed uptown with her girl friends, high most of the time on benzedrine and marijuana. She had come home one morning with one of her friends after a three day tea party with her makeup still on and her older brother slapped her across the face and told her that if he ever came home like that again hed kill him. She and her friend ran screaming from the house calling her brother a dirty fairy. After that she always called to see if her brother was in before going home.

  Her life didnt revolve, but spun centrifugally, around stimulants, opiates, johns (who paid her to dance for them in womens panties then ripped them off her; bisexuals who told their wives they were going out with the boys and spent the night with Georgette ( she trying to imagine they were Vinnie) ), the freakish precipitate coming to the top.

  When she heard that Vinnie had been paroled she went to Brooklyn (first buying 10 dozen benzedrine tablets) and sat in the Greeks all night following Vinnie everywhere and trying to get him alone. She bought him coffeeand, sat on his lap and asked him to go for a walk. He would refuse and tell her theres plenty of time sweetheart. Maybe later. Georgette would wiggle on his lap, play with his earlobes feeling like a young girl on her first date. She looked at him coquettishly. Let me do you Vinnie, forcing herself to refrain from trying to kiss him, from embracing him, from caressing his thighs, dreaming of the warmth of his groin, seeing him nude, holding her head (not too gently), pressing close to him, watching his muscles contract, running her fingertips gently along the tightened thigh muscles (he might even groan at the climax); the feel, taste, smell. . . . Please Vinnie, the dream almost carrying over to consciousness, the benzedrine making it even more difficult not to try to animate the dream now.

  It wasnt fear of being rebuked or hit by him (that could be developed in her mind into a lovers quarrel ending in a beautiful reconciliation) that restrained her, but she knew if done in the presence of his friends (who tolerated more than accepted her, or used her as a means to get high when broke or for amusement when bored) his pride would force him to abjure her completely and then there would not only be no hope, but, perhaps no dream. She put her hand tentatively on the back of his neck twisting the short hairs. She jumped up as he pushed her, and giggled as he patted her on the buttox. She strutted over to the counter. May I please have another cup of coffee Alex? you big Greek fairy. She put another benzedrine tablet in her mouth and swallowed it with the coffee; put a nickel in the jukebox and started wiggling as a tenor sax wailed a blues number. Some of the others in the Greeks clapped in time to the music and yelled, Go Georgette, Go! She put her hands behind her head, ellipsed her pelvis slowly and—bumped— up to one of the girls who was laughing at her and threw her hip in her face. Heres one for you, you big bitch. When the music stopped she sat on a stool at the counter, finished her coffee, spun around a few times on the stool, stopped, stood up holding her hands delicately in front of her in the dramatic manner of a concert singer and sang un bel di in a wavering falsetto. Someone laughed and said she should go on the stage. You have a nice voice Geòrgie. Yeah, from the same girl, fa callin hogs. Georgette turned, put her hands on her hips, leaned her head to one side and looked at her disdainfully. What would you know about opera Miss Cocksucker? She threw her head back and sauntered out to the street in her finest regal fashion.

  Vinnie was 12 the first time he was arrested. He had stolen a hearse. He was so short that he had to slide down in the seat so far to reach the pedals that a cop standing on a corner looking at the hearse, stopped for a redlight, thought the cab was empty. The cop was so surprised when he opened the door and saw Vinnie behind the wheel that he had almost shifted the gears and started moving before the cop realized what was happening and pulled him out. The judge was just as surprised as the arresting officer and had some difficulty suppressing a laugh while reprimanding Vinnie and making him promise never to do such a bad thing again. Go home and be a good boy.

  Two days later he stole another car. This time with friends who were older and better able to drive a car without attracting too much attention. They would keep a car, driving to school when they went, until it ran out of gas then leave it and steal another. They were caught many times, but Vinnie was always released after promising not to do it again. He was so young, looking even younger, and innocent looking that it was impossible for a judge to think of him as a criminal and they were hesitant about sending him to an institution where he might learn to be a thief rather than just a mischievous boy. When he was 15 and arrested for the 11th time he was sent to a correctional institution for boys. When he was released a representative of a social organization talked with him and asked him to visit their boys club in the neighborhood. Vinnie had grown during the last year and took great pride in his ability to fight better than other kids his age and better than most who were older. After starting a few fights at the boys club for kicks he stopped going and another invitation was never extended.

  He was sent up for his first real bit when he was 16. He had stolen a car and was speeding along Ocean Parkway (he wanted to see how fast the car could go in case he had to outrun the law) and crackedup. His only injury was a gash in his head. An ambulance and the police were called. The ambulance attendant bandaged his head and told the policemen he was well enough to be taken to the police station. Vinnie still wasnt fully aware of what had happened as the 2 policemen helped him up the steps of the stationhouse, but he knew they were cops. He pushed one down the steps, punched the other knocking him down, and ran. Possibly he might have gotten away, but he went to the Greeks and displayed the gash in his head to his friends telling them how he dumped the two cops.

  He was permitted to plead guilty to a misdemeanor and was sentenced to 1 to 3 years.

  He seemed to enjoy the time he spent in jail. While there he tattooed his number on his wrist with a pin and ink and displayed it to everyone when he came home. He went straight to the Greeks when he was paroled, sitting there all night telling stories about the things he did while doing time. Many of the others in the Greeks had been in the same prison and they talked about the guards, the work, the yard and their cells. The day after his release 3 gunmen were shot attempting to stickup a store. One died instantly and the other 2 were in the hospital in critical condition. When he heard about it he bought a paper, cut the story and pictures out and carried them with him for days, until they finally fell apart from handling, telling everyone that they were friends of his. I did time with them guys. Yaknow this guy Steve who got killed? He was my boy. He was on the same bench with me. Me and him was real tight man. We ran the yard up there. We was the gees on the first bench and what we said was law. We even got sent to the hole tagether. A couplea creeps wouldnt giveus the packages they got from home so we dumpedem. Im tellinya, we was real tight man.

  The glory of having known someone killed by the police during a stickup was the greatest event of his life and a memory he cherished as would an aging invalid, at the end of a disappointing life, a winning touchdown made at the end of the final game of the season.

  Vinnie got kicks from refusing Georgette when she tried to get him to take a walk with her, and from patting her on the ass and telling her not now sweetheart. Maybe later. He felt good having someone hot forim like that. Even if it is a fag. He followed her over to the counter where she was sitting and, wetting his finger and sticking it in her ear, laughed as she squirmed and giggled. Too bad I didnt have-ya upstate. I had a couple a sweet kids but they didnt have chips like this, patting her again on the ass and looking at the others, smiling, and waiting for them to smile in appreciation of his witticisms. It cost loot ta do me now sweet-chips, turning once more to the others wanting to be certain that they understood that Georgette was in love with him and that he could have her anytime he wanted to, but, he was playing it cool, waiting for her to give him loot before he condescended to allow her to do him; feeling superior to the others because he knew Steve who had been killed by the bul
ls, and because Georgette was smart and could snow them under with words (at the same time hating anyone else who might use polysyllabic words and thinking anyone who went to school was a creep), but (mistaking in his dull, never to be matured mind, her loneliness for respect of his strength and virility) she would never try that with him.

  He followed Georgette out to the street turning to laugh at the girl Georgette had insulted, sitting, trying desperately to think of something to say, her rage manifest on her face and thickening her tongue. She spit and called him a goddam faggot bastard. Georgette turned, holding a cigarette between middle and forefinger of the right hand, hand inverted and outstretched, left hand on her hip and looking disdainfully at the flushed face, Whats your excuse churl? did you leave your nature in the outter ring or in a cesspool?

  Vinnie laughed trying to give the impression he dug Georgettes remark (only vaguely aware that there may be something in the remark he didnt understand) and pushed the girl back into her chair as she started toward the door, and walked out and pinched Georgette on the cheek, then took a cigarette from her pocket. Whattayasay we take a walk? I might even letya do me. Oh, aren't you the one though, hoping he was serious, trying in her finest effeminate manner to act coy. I/ll only chargeya a fin, leaning against the fender of a parked car looking through the open door into the Greeks at the others, wanting to be certain they saw and heard. Your generosity overwhelms me Vincent, smiling at his, My name is Vinnie and can that Vincent shit, and wanting to have him even if she did have to pay, but not wanting him on a business basis. She would give him money if he wanted it, but not at that time; if she did it would not only kill, or at least blur, the dream, but it would make her his john and that would be unbearable, especially after having waited so long. She knew he wouldnt go with her while the others were there, fearing the jeers of queerbait, so was forced to wait and hope the others might leave. Reasoning thus, yet hoping, in her benzedrined mind, that she may be wrong and he would take her by the arm and walk away with her, she continued the little game. I/ll have you know that I have dozens of Johns who pay me, and not a paltry five dollars either.

  I wont charge ya nothin Georgie, grabbing one of her ears. Dont touch me Harry, you big freak, pushing his hand away and slapping at it. Im not about to have sex with you. Harry took his pushbutton knife from his pocket, opened it, locked the blade in the open position, felt the blade and tip and walked toward Georgette as she backed away shaking limp wristed hands at him. Stand still and I/ll makeya a real woman without goin ta Denmark. He and Vinnie laughed as Georgette continued to back away, her hands limply extended. You dont want that big sazeech gettin in yaway Georgie boy. Let me cut it off. It is not big Miss Pinky, trying to suppress her fears by thinking herself a heroine, and get away from me.

  Harry flipped the knife underhand at her and yelled think fast! She lifted her left leg slightly, covered her face with her hands, turned away and shrilled an OOOOOOO as the knife hit the sidewalk, bouncing off the wall behind her and skipping a few feet away. Harry and Vinnie were laughing, Vinnie walking over to the knife and picking it up, Georgette walking away still screeching at Harry. You big freak! You Neanderthal fairy! You—Vinnie threw the knife yelling think fast. Georgette leaping, pirouetting away from the knife screaming at them to stop ( only the benzedrine preventing hysteria now ), but they laughed, their daring growing with her fear; throwing the knife harder and closer to her feet; the knife skipping and billiarding away, picked up and thrown again at the dancing feet (the scene resembling one in a grade B western); the laughing, leaping and pirouetting stopping suddenly as the blade of the knife stuck in the calf of her leg (had it been a board, not flesh, the blade would have vibrated and twanged). Georgette looked quizzically at the small portion of the blade visible, and handle sticking from her leg, too surprised to feel the blood rolling down her leg to think of the wound or the danger, but just staring at the knife trying to understand what had happened. Vinnie and Harry just looked. Harry muttered something about that being a good shot and Vinnie smiled. Georgette looked up, saw Vinnie smiling at her, looked back at the knife and screamed that her new slacks were ruined. The others, watching from the Greeks, laughed and Harry asked her what she was growin from her leg. Georgette simply called him a fuck and hopped over to the step leading to the side door of the Greeks and sat down slowly, carefully keeping the leg stiff and extended in front of her. Harry asked her if she wanted him to yank the knife out and she screamed at him to go to hell. Leaning down and gently holding the handle in her fingertips and closing her eyes she tugged tentatively, then slowly pulled the knife from her leg. She sighed and dropped the knife, then leaned back against the door jamb, flexed her leg slightly and reached down and pulled her shoe off. It was filled with blood. The effects of the benzedrine were almost completely worn off and she shivered as she poured the blood from her shoe, the blood splattering as it hit the sidewalk, the small puddle flowing off in rills in to cracks in the pavement, mixing with the dirt in the cracks and disappearing. . . . She screamed and cursed Harry.

  Whats the matta Georgie? Has the poor little girl got a Booboo? She screeched. You brought me down! You rotten freaks, you brought me down! She looked at Vinnie with pleading in her eyes trying to regain her composure (the effects of the benzedrine completely gone now and panic starting to take its place), hoping to gain his sympathy, looking tenderly as a lover taking irrevocable leave, and Vinnie laughed thinking how much she looked like a dog beggin for a bone. Whats the matta? Ya hurt or somethin?

  She almost fainted from fear and anger as the others roared with laughter. She looked at the blur of faces wanting to kick them, spit into them, slap them, scratch them, but, when she tried to move the pain in her leg stopped her and she leaned back against the jamb, now fully conscious of her leg and, for the first time, thinking of the wound. She lifted her pant leg up to her knee and trembled as she felt the blood soaked pant leg and looked at the wound, blood still oozing out, her blood soaked sock and the small pool of blood under her foot, trying to ignore the whistles and, Atta girl, take it off.

  Vinnie had gone into the Greeks and got a bottle of iodine from Alex and came out and told Georgette not taworry about it. I/ll fix it up. He lifted her leg and poured the iodine into the wound and laughed, with the others, when Georgette screamed and jumped up, holding the injured leg with both hands, hopping up and down on the other. They whistled, clapped their hands and someone started singing, Dance Ballerina Dance. Georgette fell to the ground, still clutching her leg frantically, and sat in the middle of the sidewalk spotted by the light from the Greeks, one leg curved under her, the other up and bent at the knee, her head bowed and between her legs, like a clown imitating a dancer.

  When the pain subsided she got up and hopped back to the step, sat down and asked for a handkerchief to wrap around her leg. Whatta yacrazy? I dont want my hankerchief all messed up. The laughter again. Vinnie stepped gallantly forward and pulled the handkerchief from her pocket and helped her tie it around her leg. There yaare Georgie. All fixed up. She said nothing but stared at the blood; the wound growing larger and larger; blood poisoning streaking her leg, the streak widening and almost to her heart; the stench of gangrene from her rotting leg. . . .

  Well, comeon, give. What? What did you say Vinnie? I said give me some loot and I/ll getya a cab so ya can go home. I cant go home Vinnie. Why not? My brothers home. Well, where-ya gonna go? Ya cant sit here all night. I/ll go to the hospital. They can fix my leg and then I/ll go uptown to Marys. Areya crazy or somethin. Ya cant go to the hospital. When they see that leg of yours theyll wanna know what happened and the next thing yaknow the lawll be knockin on my door and I/ll be back in the can. I wont tell them anything Vinnie. You know that. Honestly. Irma pigs ass. They getya up there and shoot somethin inya and youll talk ya ass off, vague memories of radio programs heard and movies seen. I/ll getya a cab and takeya home. No Vinnie, please! I wont tell them anything. I promise. I/ll tell them some spick kids did it, holding h
er leg tightly with both hands, rocking back and forth with a steady hypnotical rhythm and trying with desperation not to get hysterical and to ignore the throbbing pain in her leg. Please! My brothers home. I cant go home now! Look, I dont know what ya-brother will do and I dont give a shit, but I know what Im gonna do if ya dont shut thehellup.

  Georgette called to him as he walked toward the avenue to hail a cab, pleading and promising anything. She didnt want to argue with Vinnie; she didnt want him to dislike her; she didnt want to provoke him; but she knew what would happen when she got home. Her Mother would cry and call the doctor; and if her brother didnt find the bennie (she couldnt throw them away and there was too much to take at once) the doctor would know she had been taking something and tell them. She knew they would take her clothes off and see the red spangled G string she was wearing. Her brother might ignore the makeup (when he saw her leg and all the blood; and when her Mother started worrying about her and telling the brother to leave him alone) but, he would never ignore the bennie and the G string.