(2004) Citizen Vince by Jess Walter Read Free Book Online

fire a ten-watt bulb. And yet here is Vince Camden, at the peak of technology and development, at the crest of a remarkable wave of human achievement, in a world created by piling these single thoughts together, strung out over millennia—here is Vince Camden, himself a technological and legal creation, standing alone in a heated, wired, insulated shelter, witnessing a thirteen-inch box beaming a mash of electrons that when unscrambled depict two men vying for the most powerful position in the history of the world at a time when the push of a button can effectively end civilization. Here is Vince Camden, overwhelmed byhis own significance and by his desire to change, by the undertow of history, and by the weight of so many choices, undone by this miracle of being and by all of these strands connected in the thread of one simple thought:
    Which of these stupid fucks are you supposed to vote for?

Spokane, Washington
    1980 / October 29 / Wednesday / 2:25 A.M .
II

Chapter II
    Hookers arguing about bras.
    If he’d known, Vince would’ve just kept walking. He was deep in thought about this election business, and something about it was making him feel better—or distracted anyway—but now he’s outside Sam’s Pit, and Beth and her friend Angela are waving their hands in the cold air, making points with little bursts of steam.
    “Vince can settle it,” says Angela, and she toddles over in a pair of heels that make her lean dangerously far forward and transform her ass into a shelf. “Beth thinks guys like bras, but I said you all would just as soon see the bare titties.”
    Vince looks from Angela, all brown and curvy, to Beth, skinny, pale—frayed cast behind her back. “I don’t think I’m the right guy to ask.”
    Angela takes Vince’s arm in hers and bunkers it with boobs. She flutters her eyes and he can feel the dusting of her long lashes on his cheek. “Oh, come on, Vince. Which would you rather see? Beth’s bra…or these?”
    “Well, those are nice.” Vince glances down at the dark creaseof Angela’s cleavage. “Then again, a bra has a…certain sensuality.”
    Angela pushes him away. “You’d like balls if Beth had a pair.”
    Beth laughs uncomfortably. “Angela!”
    Vince escapes into Sam’s, already crowded with cigarette smoke and poker games, ribs, and beneath-the-counter booze. Eddie comes up from the basement with a pan of coated chicken wings.
    “Vince Camden. Hardest-working man in donuts. How she goin’, Vince?”
    “Good. How you doin’, Sam?”
    “Fat, tired, and diabetic.” Eddie is sixty, black, with a gray beard and black-rimmed glasses.
    Vince stops and turns to face him. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
    Eddie shrugs. “What’s on your mind, Vince?”
    “I was just wondering, who do you think won the debate?”
    “Two whores arguing about bras? Ain’t no winner in a goddamn thing like that.”
    “No. No. I mean the presidential debate.”
    Eddie just stares.
    “You know. Carter and Reagan? Last night on TV?”
    Eddie thinks for a minute, and then shrugs. “Like I said, Vince: ain’t no winner when a couple of whores start arguing.”
     
    “ COLOR HAS A lot to do with it. Bet a buck.”
    “You mean like black or red?”
    “Yeah, those are good. Or even white. Just not that flesh color.”
    “Color don’t matter long as they ain’t all wired up. Call.”
    “No, see, that there’s a support bra, your twenty-four-hour model. That’s a good thing. A little wire in the cage means they’s plenty a’ booby inside.”
    “Booby? Did you just say booby? ”
    “The wired ones are too hard to get off. Bump a buck.”
    “Then maybe you shouldn’t wear one.”
    “I mean hard to get off the woman.”
    “Maybe you should try it when she’s awake. Call.”
    “I’m okay with the front clasp, but that back clasp…shit oh day.”
    “That’s right. That’s flyin’ blind, undoing that back clasp.”
    “What do you think, Vince?”
    He looks up. It always comes