The Queen and I

by Russell Andresen

  He grabbed her by her shoulders and handed her off to Carl and ordered, “Take her back to her bookstore and make sure she keeps her mouth shut.”

  “What about you? Don’t you need some backup?”

  Sean smiled and answered, “I don’t need no help to beat the shit out of a Jew and his friend.”

  Carl looked at the struggling Abby and back at Sean and asked, “What if the ghost shows up?”

  Sean reached into his other pocket and revealed a water pistol filled with a liquid. “Holy water.” He winked at Abby. “This will handle any ghost that comes near me; isn’t that right, Abby?”

  She struggled harder, but could not break free from Carl’s vice-like grip and pleaded, “Sean, don’t do this. We have a chance at something extraordinary. Don’t ruin it with your insane stubbornness.”

  Sean thought for a moment and said to Carl, “What are you waiting for? I told you to take her back to the bookstore.”

  * * *

  Jeffrey and Jacob sat in a corner booth in the Country Home and ate a real, honest-to-God meal of the people of Zion. Jeffrey was hoping to find classic diner fare like meatloaf, minute steaks, chicken parmigiana; what he got instead was something more reminiscent of his bubbe’s house on a Sunday—brisket, tzimmes, latkes, gefilte fish, kugel, matzo ball soup, and stuffed cabbage. The place even smelled like his grandmother’s house, and he found that to be strangely comforting.

  He looked across at Jacob, who was finishing off his plate of brisket and potato kugel, and realized just how hungry his friend had been. It was not because he could not afford to eat; it was because he was so stressed out that he had no desire. The only thing he wanted was alcohol and cigarettes, and Jeffrey knew what that felt like. He had battled those demons in an earlier time in his life and knew how easy it was to self-medicate when you felt lost and without hope.

  The waitress came to the table and asked if they wanted anything else, and Jacob ordered a second bowl of matzo ball soup. It was surprisingly good, he had said, very light and fluffy and the broth was exceptional. Jeffrey just smiled and felt a certain sense of pride at watching his former colleague eat to his heart’s content. He felt like he was doing the right thing and that it was for someone else for the first time in as long as he could remember.

  He knew that before he brought Jacob home, he was going to have to tell him about Saul. Jeffrey knew Saul would not be exactly pleased with the new arrival, but he hoped he would at least be civil. It was, after all, Jeffrey’s home, and he could bring whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

  “I have something I have to tell you, Jacob,” he began.

  “What? You want me to pick up the check?” Jacob asked jokingly.

  “Not at all, this was my treat; what I have to tell you is that I’m sort of living with someone.”

  Jacob’s eyes went wide and he asked, “Oh yeah? That was quick; who is she?”

  Jeffrey shuffled in his seat and replied, “It’s not a she, it’s a he.”

  His friend gave him a quizzical look and asked, “He? You go all faggela on me?”

  “No, Jacob, I’m not gay. It’s not like that.” He thought for a second and continued, “He was sort of already living in the house when I moved in.”

  “You mean the previous owner? I thought you said he was the guy banging Rachel behind your back.”

  Jeffrey shook his head and said, “It’s not Kearney; it’s someone very special to me.”

  Jacob wiped his mouth and took a sip of his soda and asked, “If it’s not Kearney and you’re not gay, than why is there a man living in your house who is very special to you?”

  Jeffrey tried to pick his words very carefully and was unable to find the right ones that would break the news to Jacob delicately, so he just came out with it. “I have a ghost living in the cabin.”

  Jacob gave him an incredulous stare and repeated, “A ghost living in your cabin?” He looked around to see that no one was listening and continued, “How exactly is it that a ghost is very special to you? Most people would have gotten the hell out of there.”

  “Believe me, I thought that when I first learned of him, but he really is quite the character.”

  Jeffrey proceeded to tell Jacob everything he knew of Saul. His career, how he had died, what he had done with his life when he was alive, and how he had inspired Jeffrey to get back to work. He even told Jacob of his plan to write a play based on the citizens of Zion, which included characters based on Schultz and Fujikawa, in an attempt to get back at the two men who had done so much damage to his life.

  Jacob was obviously intrigued by the prospect of getting back at the two men who he had sold his soul to. The possibilities were limitless now that he knew Jeffrey was back and writing again. If anyone could pen a masterpiece that would ruin the life and reputation of a man without leaving himself liable, it was Jeffrey David Rothstein. His boss was back, and Jacob could see the fire in his eyes and the confidence that he showed only when he was on the verge of greatness. He had seen the look many times, and it was thrilling to see it again.

  “Can I help?” Jacob asked.

  Jeffrey thought about it for a moment and said, “I think you need to meet Saul first so I can assure him that you are not taking his job.”

  They paid their bill and walked out of the Country Home.

  They had been in the restaurant for so long that they hadn’t even realized that it had gotten so dark out. The small town was lit with its charming, old-fashioned light posts, and the air was as clean as any that Jacob had ever breathed. The stars were so numerous that the two of them felt as if they had stepped into a science fiction story and not the small town nestled in the crook of a lake in upstate New York.

  “You two ladies enjoy your dinner?” Sean Wagner asked from the darkness, his silhouette visible but masking his facial features.

  Only his voice alerted Jeffrey to whom it was who was speaking to them. Jeffrey turned to Jacob and whispered, “Just the town drunk and troublemaker. Ignore him; let’s get to the car.”

  Sean came out of the shadows and said, “Where’s the party, Jew boy? Got a ghost to go visit?”

  “I thought you said nobody knew about him except you and that girl?” Jacob whispered.

  “I forgot that this schmuck and his friend were spying on me last week.”

  “Your ghost ain’t here to help you now, Rothstein,” Wagner said as he slowly approached. He looked at Jacob and continued, “You two faggots have a nice meal, did you?”

  “Started early tonight, didn’t you, Sean?” Jeffrey asked, referring to his drinking. “Does your father know that you’re out past your bedtime?”

  Sean’s eyes went red with anger and he charged Jeffrey, exposing the chain-wrapped fist as he did. The two of them collided with an explosion of arms and fists as Jeffrey tried to keep the bigger man off of him, and Jacob hurried to help his friend. Wagner punched Jacob across the face, opening a cut over his right eye, which sent him sprawling to the ground. He turned on Jeffrey, who was now back on his feet, and charged again, this time making contact with Jeffrey’s midsection, knocking the air out of his lungs.

  Jeffrey dropped to one knee and Wagner kicked him in the side, causing him to fall to the ground. He straddled Jeffrey and grabbed hold of his collar while raising his chain-wrapped fist high above for the money shot, when he was suddenly lifted up in the air and thrown twenty feet across the parking lot.

  Sean landed in a tangle of limbs and metal and hurried to his feet, trying to get his bearings and find out who it was that intervened. He saw no one and yelled to nobody in particular, “Where are you, you fucking demon monster?”

  A recycling bin filled with cans and bottles flew across the lot and made a direct hit against Sean’s side, sending cans crashing to the ground noisily. Sean spun around, looking for who was behind it, and Jeffrey could see the look of recognition cross his eyes.

  “Come out, you devil!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “I got something
for you!” He pulled out the water gun filled with the holy elixir that he was sure would do away with the ghost, when he heard Abby Tisch yelling from the distance for him to stop.

  Jeffrey turned on Sean and said, “Put the gun down, Sean.” He realized how ridiculous this sounded, but he had no idea what was in that gun, and knowing Wagner the way that he did, he knew that it could be anything. “Just calm down, Sean.”

  Abby reached them, a confused Carl following in the distance, and she said, “You can’t do this, Sean! We don’t know whether it’s friendly or not.”

  “He’s not an it,” Jeffrey shouted. “Now leave him alone and drop the fucking gun!”

  Sean looked around and rewrapped his fist with the chain and said through his panting breaths, “Tell it to show itself. Tell it or I kill you.” He looked at Jeffrey and reached down to his ankle and pulled out a small revolver. He pointed it at Jeffrey and said, “You ain’t having no more fun on my account, Jew boy!”

  His hand suddenly went cold, and there was a building sensation of pressure around his knuckles, growing into pain. Sean struggled to move his hand and found that it was stuck in something that he could not see. He came to the realization that the ghost had to be behind this and that it was holding his hand. Sean turned the water gun and fired in the direction of where he thought the ghost was while Abby shrieked her objections.

  Sean’s hand was released, blood began flowing back to his fingers, and everyone in the lot now heard a young girl scream, “Saul!”

  They spun and saw Melissa Foreman standing on the fringe of the light from the parking lot and she continued, “Saul, are you okay?”

  A phosphorescent glow started to form in the lot, and they all heard a very deep and raspy voice reply, “No, I’m not all right. This jacket was suede.”

  Abby Tisch, Sean Wagner, and the out-of-breath Carl Thomas stood in stunned silence as Saul revealed himself to them. He was wearing a rose-colored suede jacket and charming black skirt with sensible shoes for walking long distances and continued, “Do you have any idea what water does to suede?”

  Jacob now turned and saw the ghost that his friend had told him about and found he could not find the words to express what he was feeling at that moment. Jeffrey attended to his friend while Melissa came to help, and they watched as Saul approached the trio who had been haunting his existence for so long now.

  He reached out quickly and yanked the water gun out of Sean’s hand and said, “Give me that, you schmendrick. I should send you the dry-cleaning bill.”

  Sean was trembling like a windblown leaf and had lost control of his bodily functions. Saul looked down at the puddle forming and added, “Good thing I didn’t wear suede shoes.” He looked at Abby, and tears were building in her eyes.

  A smile was forming across her face and she said, “You’re beautiful.”

  Saul, being the showman that he always was, forced his face to take on a blushing look, and replied, “I’ll tell you, it’s not easy nowadays, but a lady has her responsibilities.”

  Abby laughed, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She reached out to touch Saul and continued, “You’re actually here. You’re real.”

  “Don’t bother trying, sweetheart,” Saul said. “This merchandise can’t be fondled.”

  She withdrew her hands as Carl Thomas turned and ran as if he had never run before. Saul turned on Sean Wagner and said, “Can someone please get that horrible sheriff over here to pick up his boy?”

  Sean grew furious at the ghost referring to Sheriff Pitts as his father and tried to strike, but his hands only went through Saul, causing no damage. He spun to the ground, and Abby lifted his revolver and pointed it at him.

  “I’ll take him to his daddy,” she said and kicked him while he stared at her with angry eyes. She looked at Saul and said, “I’m so sorry I treated you this way.”

  “All you had to do was introduce yourself, dear,” Saul answered. “I’ve been dying to give you a makeover since the first time I saw you.”

  She laughed, and Saul turned his attention to Jeffrey and Jacob. He offered Jeffrey his hand to help him up and asked Jacob, “Can you walk?”

  Jacob stared at Saul with stunned eyes and replied, “I think so.” He slowly got to his feet and continued, “I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, honey,” Saul said. “Nothing this fabulous comes from an imagination.”

  Chapter Forty-Two: Leaving the Nest

  Louis Grecko returned to his home where he had not been in over a week. The music and the Way had been directing him in different ways, and none of the paths laid out for him led him there. It was only after he discovered the whereabouts of Rothstein that he decided it was time to return home and sever the ties with his mother and any relationship with Heinrich Schultz.

  Schultz was the easy solution, as was his odd little friend; they did not mean much to Louis to begin with and exterminating them would hurt no more than removing a Band-Aid. It was his mother he feared.

  Since Louis had been very young, she had had a hold over him that was not normal by any comparison for a mother and son. With his father gone at such a young age, he was left to her designs when it came to his upbringing, and the ghosts of her past had left her unstable and certainly unsuitable for child rearing. Her love for the company of the dark things in life and the art of implementing pain on others had been passed on to her onetime innocent son, and what she had left was a monster only she could control. But as in all things, the teacher must eventually be surpassed by the student, especially when the student studied under a more qualified professor, which only expedited the change.

  Where his mother’s voice was the only one that mattered to him and the only one who could dictate what course of action he would follow next, she was replaced by the music and the Way. The Way was her creation, a way to control her son, but it had grown in his fragile mind into something more tangible than just a way of thinking or ideology; it was his new way of seeing the world and was now his focal point on any decision he made.

  Before arriving home, the Way had led him to a young man who was no older than high school age, walking home alone and innocent as any young man of that age would be when raised under normal conditions. It did not take long for Louis to fall on him and gather up what was left of the initial attack for easy disposal in one of the thousands of dumpsters strewn about the city. He cut off the young man’s ear and planned on giving it to his mother as a farewell gift.

  She appreciated being showered with his variety of gifts and often reciprocated the gesture with rare moments of loving affection that did not speak to the other kind, the kind that made Louis angry and that he wished to never think about. That affection started shortly after his father had left and was what had driven Louis into the dark shadows he now lurked in; it had driven him to the music, and it had helped him understand what it was that was truly expected of him.

  He knew she was home as soon as he entered the apartment, because he could smell the sour stench of her perspiration mixed with her Chanel No.5. The air was also thick with cigar smoke, and she had obviously neglected to open any windows to vent the toxic air. She did this on purpose, because she knew how much the smell of her smoking bothered Louis. By allowing the air to go so foul, she punished him emotionally before she even had a chance to put her hands on him.

  Louis walked into the kitchen and splashed some water on his face by the sink. He looked out the window to the courtyard below and saw pigeons mingling around some breadcrumbs that were obviously left by a neighbor. He liked watching the birds and had always wanted to feed them himself, but that was also another pleasure Cloris would not allow him. Any pleasure he was going to experience in his life would be the kind she chose for him, and she determined if it was worthy of the work she was doing with him.

  He remembered one Chanukah when she brought him home a dead puppy. She teased him with it, accusing him of being so disobedient that it had died rather than see the boy who did not listen to
his mother. Every New Year’s Eve, he was sent out to bring her souvenirs of drunken revelers who had not obeyed the lifestyle that the Way had set out for all of its children. She watched with unabated joy as he removed body parts from his bag of goodies, and she rubbed them over her entire body, making love to some of them as she told Louis that one day he would be allowed to keep some of these treats for himself. He turned and saw his reflection in the toaster and thought, Today is a good day for a treat.

  He removed the ear from his pocket and examined it in the hazy light of the kitchen. He was amazed at the resolve of the young man who it had belonged to just a couple of hours earlier. He had put up a struggle that did not befit his size and had not even shed a tear when Louis cut the ear from his head; rather, he spit in Louis’s face and kicked him in the groin, almost achieving an escape. Louis was too quick and too well trained for an amateur to beat him, though, and quickly conquered his prize with a quick snap of the neck. It was the dismembering that gave him the most satisfaction, though.

  He had thought of Jeffrey David Rothstein the entire time and imagined he was working on him and not this young boy. How he wanted to kill Rothstein for all the trouble he was causing. It was because of Rothstein that he was back in touch with Schultz, why he had had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the odd little man who was with Schultz, and why the music and the Way had now told him what he must do with the rest of his life.

  Louis was not sure he had what it was going to take to please the Way, to do as it had ordered, but he also knew that at this point any resistance would only be met with his own death, and that was unacceptable to him. There was still the woman out there who he had to dominate and make his own, there was still a score to be settled with Heinrich for driving him to this very painful decision, and of course, there was his mother.

  He walked toward the living room and heard her chuckling at the television. She enjoyed her quiet TV time, and Louis knew better than to bother her during such time. But he was not interested in what she wanted anymore, and knew that the longer he waited, the longer he ran the risk of the Way abandoning him and turning him into the prey rather than the predator.