by John Rechy
Mrs. Stephens rushed to the telephone ringing in a small sitting room. She sat there, one ear covered, talking—screaming—into the telephone, yelling to be heard over the machine's roar. Hester chopped the noise off, and Mrs. Stephens's raised voice shouted, “…—a lark, but I did love your act—you in your marine uniform and— …” Shocked to hear her words roar into the sudden silence, she looked imploringly at Hester. Her tone of voice changed; she said into the telephone, “Just a moment, Mr. Maxwell, I'm putting the telephone on hold and taking it on another extension.” She avoided even glancing at Hester.
Hester looked outside. Tessa had disappeared. Only the tanned snake remained there.
Hester dusted fiercely.
The phone rang again. Answered.
Mrs. Stephens appeared a few moments later. “Hester, darling, I have a huge favor to ask you, but you must promise to say no if you can't or I won't even ask you. Now promise. A friend of mine is in desperate need of a— … of help. Do you mind if he borrows you? I mean, would you mind helping him? Of course, he'll pay you double. He's a wonderful friend, and he's just despondent because he's having a show—a fashion show—and a small important dinner tonight and his own— … Well, the woman who helps him out didn't turn up today. Only if you agree, of course. And of course, if you do, I'll drive you, and he'll pay your cabfare to East Los Angeles.”
“Watts,” Hester corrected.
“Oh, Hester, forgive me, please! Of course I know you live in Watts. I know that, of course. I've driven you there myself, remember?” she pled urgently. “Once during the taxi strike, and another time when— … Do you mind helping him out just this once?”
“No, ma'am,” Hester said. Fire arced over Mrs. Stephens and rushed up the stairs.
When they walked back to the Mercedes, Linda was no longer by the pool. Mrs. Stephens was already babbling. “I just have to get it out of my mind, that's all!” She didn't identify what. They drove down the perfect roads. “It is true, though, that crime is spilling out of the inner city— …”
Hester remembered the fires that had lit up Watts in a smoky orange halo. Spilling out of the inner city! Segregated rage! Yes! Yes!
“… —all know, of course,” Mrs. Stephens pushed on, “what the real crime is: poverty!” They sailed past the white columns of Bel Air, the concentric layers of flowers. “And I feel so helpless!”
I have set the point of the sword against all their gates. Flames rising up the white portals would form columns of fire. Hester clenched her bag on her lap.
“I myself refuse to join one of those awful self-defense places. Can you imagine? The man who owns that new one wants to have a rooftop patio resembling Chez Toi's! Indecent! It's all becoming so— … so— … Oh, I don't know.”
No, you don't know, you can't know. Don't know anything about violence, woman. Thou shalt burn with fire, a third part in the midst of the city when the days of the siege are fulfilled.
At the house where she was to be borrowed, Hester got out. Mrs. Stephens blurted, “Hester, I promise I'll make this favor up to you. Next time we need you on Sunday, I'll go pick you up, myself. In Watts. I have some things for you—clothes, things I'll bring them to you; and— …” Her hands flew to her temples. “… —and tell Brian—please tell Brian I love him but I can't stop, I'm in a rush—but I'll call him soon, and I'll be at his showing, and I'm dying to know what he's hiding, and thank you, Hester, thank you, we'd all be lost without you.”
Yes!
The creamy Mercedes purred away.
The house seemed a series of white cubes somehow located over a cliff. Hester pushed a square black button. “Come in,” a man's voice said. Hester walked in.
Black and white.
That's all she saw. Paintings: black and white stripes, squares. The floor: black and white swirls. Mushroom sofas and couches: black and white. And chrome and glass and crystal everywhere. Hester reacted as if someone had run a fingernail along glass. Through an invisible window, the azure of the pool was a shock.
Talking into a square telephone—bone white—a man sat on a black chair that looked like a humped hawk. The man was blond, thirtyish; maybe older but looking younger; short hair, a moustache. Barefoot, his legs curled under him, he was wearing a combination of pajamas and robe—calf-length, loose-sleeved, tied at the waist, open on a hairy V, and the sheer material was white. He waved at Hester and mimed words at her: You. Are. An Angel. Then he continued into the telephone: “No, no, no—no! You don't understand, Vera. Darling, my fashions are not of today!” He mimed more words at Hester and pointed to the telephone: New York. “I said not of today. Today is passe! … Wait a minute, darling.” He covered the mouthpiece and said to Hester, “Tandy, you're a darling for letting me borrow you from Alana.”
“Hester,” Hester said.
“Of course. Tandy didn't show up. A cold.” He looked about the cubed rooms. “Do something with it all, will you, angel?” He blew her a kiss. “Whatever you need is straight through the hall and into the kitchen, out, then right, and right again.” He returned to the telephone. “Vera, it's what everything is about now, darling!”
Hester marched past black and white squares, mirrors, and chrome. Behind, the man's voice continued: “Tomorrow is when it's all going to happen, you see; and so, yes, how to address yourself to then, but now.”
Hester paused, listening. A twisted piece of plastic sculpture caught a blade of sun. Hester willed it to melt, heated by approaching fire, twisting the plastic into even uglier forms.
“Violence. Injustice,” the man's voice continued. He stopped and sighed. “Well, we have to accept it. And that's what tomorrow is. … Of course today is the same, but that's not the point! … Yes, yes! … No! Violence and injustice, yes! The spirit of tomorrow's revolution… .No, darling! Do we have a bad connection, Vera, or do you need a— …? Not evolution, I said revolution. Don't you see? The rich will be wearing messages of— … of— … I'll say it: oppression! … Op! Op! Oppression! Really, darling, you do have a— … Don't you see how tomorrow that is?”
Before the implements of her profession—the tubes for gathering dust, the claws for dredging out clean dirt, the white cleaning rags—Hester closed her eyes, tight, more tightly, willing a hot, orange darkness. Borrow me? Then shall ye know that I am the Lord, when their slain men shall be among their idols round about their altars, upon every high hill, in all the tops of the mountains, and under every green tree, and under every thick oak, the place where they did offer sweet savor to all their idols. So I will stretch out my hand upon them, and make the land desolate, yea, more desolate than the wilderness. … Borrow me?
“Well, Vera, all I can say is this: You'll see when you show up,” the voice of the man still talked on the telephone when Hester opened her eyes again, feeling flushed. The man was saying, “And don't send that bitch who works for you; he knows nothing about style. … Of course you can bring him, darling—I may even forgive her for what she wrote last time. … Yes, it is true! … No exclusives, darling; if so, I'd give it to you, you know I adore you—but it has to remain a secret. It will be très sen-sa-tionnel, je, vous, promette! I'll make everybody gasp. … I really can't; you have to come to the showing to see it for yourself!'’
Hester was wiping a glass top when she saw Brian's reflection. It disturbed her to have anyone stand over her. She rose quickly. He kissed her on the cheek. “You're an angel, Esther. … Tandy couldn't come—she gets these torturing backaches!—and tonight I'm having a very important dinner, the night before tomorrow's opening—and this place is a hovel. I won't tell you what to do; just dazzle me, won't you, darling?” He moved into another room.
Hester wiped, dusted, vacuumed. She heard the shower. She walked into another room, another cube. There was a drawing board here perched on a stand before a tall stool. Hester looked at the drawing. It depicted a long slender woman wearing a cocked cap, a jacket with epaulets, pants bloused over brown boots strapped with several small buc
kles. The material of the jacket and the pants was brown, orange, green, each color swirling, like soldiers wore in the news. An expensive combat uniform! And the woman in the drawing held a rifle at a diagonal across her chest, the barrel pointed as if soon to be aimed.
Hester turned away. Like a huge green spider, a fern hung by a window. She hated those pampered ugly plants! With one hand, she pushed its limp leaves away, and some fell on the white floor. A white-tufted dog came into the room and stood yelping feebly at her. She hated their plants and their ridiculous nervous dogs—better fed than Negro babies. The fire she had ignited to the gates of Bel Air grew long fingers that grasped toward this black and white monstrosity of a house.
“… —and I'll leave you the— …”
Brian was wearing dark blue jeans, an open bluish jacket, no shirt, tennis shoes, no socks. The dog continued to yip.
“Stop it, Zsa-Zsa,” he ordered. “My God, Esther, I just realized I don't have any money with me—I never carry any—and Alana warned me that I must pay you cash and cabfare and double, but I never carry a cent. … I'll call my— … roommate. He works just down the hill; he'll come and pay you. I'm sorry, but I have to dash—I'll call Stuart now.”
The dog quivered after Brian.
Hester heard the man's voice on the telephone: “Stuart, be a prince, come home, will you? I don't have a cent to pay Esther, and— … Esther! Tandy didn't show up and Alana loaned me her— … Alana Stephens, the judge's wife. He's up for an appointment to the Supreme Court. … Yes, her! … I told you Tandy didn't show up again. … Yes, I'm sure that's what it is—she does it here, too; I'm going to have to lock the— … Which reminds me, we need more Scotch. Nobody's drinking wine anymore. Can you believe I offered that New York bitch Scotch the other day—Chivas Regal—and he said, ‘Don't you have anything cheaper?’ … I know—but you can leave now. I had an interview; that bitch Vera talked forever. … Yes, yes, the one from New York, and she's bringing that awful closet case who wrote those vile things about me. … Of course I didn't tell her about the sniper design. That's the surprise! And I've decided definitely: the model will carry a real rifle. And she'll pretend to shoot at the audience! … Yes, isn't it? … Anyway, come right away and pay Esther and bring lots and lots of cash for cabfare. … Yes, I did say cabfare. … Alana said Watts— .
Hester was wiping a lamp that looked like a skinned cobra.
Brian mimed the words: Where? Is? Watts? Darling?
Hester pretended not to understand.
“I don't know where it is exactly either, Stuart!” he said to the telephone. “But she'll tell you. … Yes, and double whatever we pay Tandy. … Just for today, don't worry, just for today! … Lorenzo will be here to cook. … Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, no, ciao!”
He returned to Hester. “Tara is saved!” he said. “My roommate will bring the money to pay you, Esther, and thank you, darling, thank you, you can leave the door open, we have total security, and you're an angel, but of course you know that, and I love your uniform. …” He started to move out of the black and white cubes, and then he stopped. He turned to face her. “Can you believe me? I called Stuart my roommate! My God, I called my lover my roommate! My God, how closet Fifties! I called my lover my roommate! It's all the tension— …” He was gone.
Sodomites! Hester's mind screamed. White sodomites!
She cleaned and cleaned and cleaned, ferociously. Borrow me?
Exhausted, she leaned on a chair and forced back tears, which nevertheless brimmed on the lids of her chocolate-mint-colored eyes.
The door opened. Footsteps.
Her proud chin shot up. She wiped her eyes.
“Hello, Esther,” said the man. “I'm Stuart, Brian's lover.”
Hester stared at the man standing there, his hair cut carefully short, his moustache trimmed exactly. A man of Brian's age and build, a man who looked very much like Brian—except that he was black, black like her.
“I'll put the money here.” Stuart glanced away from her. “I hope this covers your taxi—I called up the cab company to get an estimate.” He placed the money on a clear plastic rectangle enclosing a black sphere. He moved away, turned back. “Oh, and, darling, thanks for helping us out.” The door closed.
Hester shut her eyes. She leaned against a glazed wall. The memory flowed over her. She remembered watering her house on Grape Street during the Watts riots, which became police riots; remembered standing on a chair and holding a hose soaking her roof in water so that the flames—set by her own people first, and then by the police, their flares, their bullets—would not destroy her home, her mother's inherited, precious, beloved bone china, her own carefully tended garden.
She sighed now.
The roiling flames of purifying fire sweeping down the luxurious hills, roaring past the gates of Bel Air, raging at Beverly Hills, engulfing the green mansion on Sunset Boulevard, slowed their blazing avalanche—slowed, slowed. Slowed. Stopped. Hester pushed the hungry flames back, dousing, drenching them, smothering them—until she had put the fire out entirely.
Lost Angels: 4
“Where's Orin!” Jesse James sat up startled. The place at the opposite end of the bed was vacant.
In the other bed, Lisa wiped troubled sleep from her eyes. She looked at Jesse. “I dunno where … he— …”
Jesse dashed to the closet, to check whether Orin's clothes were still there.
Lisa jumped up and drew the drapes. Was the Cadillac parked in its usual place?
Last night, When Orin's sobs subsided, Lisa and Jesse James remained unmoving, not daring to touch. After a few minutes, she rose, put on her underclothes, and got into the other bed, with Pearl Chavez. Jesse put on his shorts. Orin lay huddled, naked. Lisa and Jesse fell into disturbed, heavy sleep.
Now Orin was gone.
“His clothes're still here!” Jesse James discovered; that only partially relieved the rising apprehension. Was Orin rash enough to walk out and leave everything behind?
“The car's still there,” Lisa said.
That assuaged Jesse further.
Orin was at the door. “Morning,” he smiled.
“Orin, you worried us!” Lisa said.
“Yeah,” Jesse sulked in a crush of emotions. “Where'd you go?”
“Woke up early, got up—paid today's rent,” Orin said.
His way of shutting out last night? Jesse resented having panicked at Orin's absence. Now the mixture of feelings was further complicated by Orin's having paid the rent. That meant Jesse's—and Lisa's—money would last longer. At the” same time that having their own money made them feel “independent,” they were increasingly aware of “owing” Orin. His purpose? No, he never made them feel indebted. Just like Orin to create opposite situations at the same time! Jesse didn't know exactly what to feel. So he evoked Cagney as Cody: “Awright, kid,” he said, ending his sulk.
“We missed you, Orin,” Lisa said, going to take her turn in the bathroom.
“Shouldn't miss anyone,” Orin said.
And so last night's occurrence would be sealed, an invisible presence. Lisa took her clothes with her, to dress in the bathroom.
Realizing he was still in his shorts as he walked to the table for his guidebook, Jesse quickly put on his pants. He noticed that Orin was separating or counting some bills in his wallet—each day's increasing expenses? Orin must have lots of money! Jesse realized Orin had been staring at him.
Glowing freshly in a light, yellowish dress whose material kissed her in the sexiest places, Lisa came out of the bathroom. Jesse James took his turn immediately after. Inside, “smelling” her naked body, he came in his hands.
Back in the room, avoiding looking at Orin, he sat down at the table and started leafing through his guidebook. He determined to have a strong say in today's trek.
Lisa was preparing Pearl Chavez for this day's outing.
“ ‘The park sprawls over four thousand forty-three and seven-tenths acres of lush land! It was donated to the city
by Colonel Griffith J. Griffith! It is reputed to be the largest city park in the world! It has been kept in as natural a state as possible, while rendering it easily accessible to motorists and hikers!’ “ Jesse was reading—and adding emphases to—an entry in “Places Not to Miss.” “ ‘Among its many features which make it a visitor's delight are the famous Observatory and Planetarium (see separate entries); a miniature ‘Travel Town’ with train rides; the Greek Theater, an outdoor theater where some of the greatest entertainment in the world is presented under the stars; natural mineral wells; and one of the finest zoos— …’ “
“I hate zoos!” Lisa said. She put a drop of cream on the doll's hair, to brighten it.
Jesse glared at Lisa and continued. “In this zoo, ‘Animals are allowed to roam freely in areas resembling their natural habitat while still being contained for the safety of visitors.’ “
“Oh, sure,” Lisa persisted. “They're still not free.”
Jesse continued intrepidly. “ ‘Golf courses and tennis courts provide athletic recreation. A playground with rides, including a merry-go-round, is a popular attraction. Picnic areas and hiking paths are everywhere. Visitors can take advantage of the many bridle trails by renting a horse at the stables. Rare flowers, trees, and birds add to the delights of the park. Some animals are allowed to roam wild,’ “ he flung the words triumphantly at Lisa, “ ‘including deer and squirrels. With its many green coves and trails, the park is a hiker's delight.’ “
Orin had not reacted, just lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.
Jesse tried another marked place in his guide: “ ‘A millionaire wanted to duplicate the old Italian city, to reconstruct one just like it in Los Angeles. He began with the canals, a charming pizza, and— …’ Pizza? P-i-a-z-z-a,” he spelled out the word.
“Piazza. Like a courtyard,” Orin said.
“That,” Jesse continued. “One of those ‘was built and still remains although the pee-at-za has gone through several changes in recent years. Today the City of Venice West is a quaint combination of canals, Venetian rest-stops along the beach, and old Victorian-style houses.’ “ Jesse looked up to see whether he'd captured Orin's interest. Nothing. He skipped to another part. “Universal Studios Movie Tour!” He counted on Lisa's support on this one.
