Last Exit to Brooklyn by Hubert Selby Jr. Read Free Book Online Page A

creeps are like that. They clapped theirhands, twittered and aaad and decided to have a party in honor of Georgette and the laying out of Arthur.
    Goldie sent Rosie, a demented female who acted as sortofa housemaid, for gin, cigarettes and another gross of bennie. They made a small pot of bouillon and danced around it dropping tablets in and chanting bennie in the bouil lon, ben nie in the bouil lon, whirling away the fear and boredom, giggling, popping bennie, drinking gin, toasting Georgette: Long Live THE QUEEN, and the laying out of Arthur. He should be laid out, but I mean really, the freak, each in her mind and turn laying out every rough or straight sonofabitch that ever hit them or pointed and laughed; dancing through the apartment until they fell into chairs trying to catch their breath, fanning themselves; and Rosie brought bouillon, ice and gin and they spoke more quietly, still laughing, asking Georgette again and again to tell them how she laid her brother out … then gradually they quieted, too spent to shout, stretching in their seats, getting higher and higher as they sat quietly and becoming conscious of the absence of men, their high spirits and overflowing joy making the absence of love known. So her subjects petitioned the Queen to summon forth her dashing husband and his rough trade friends, for tonight they were daring and even Camille, a frail queen from a small town in Jersey, longed for rough arms, there being no room, but absolutely no room, for johns. So Georgette, flying in her world of junk, called the Greeks and flushed (O, my libido is twitching) when she heard Vinnies voice and fluttered her lids when he said hello sweetchips, whereya been? O, Ive been balling it loverman, smiling at her friends and too high to be bothered by, Ive got ya loverman shit. Itll still costya. She asked him to come over with some of the boys, giggling yes when he asked if she was high, telling him they had loads of gin and not to worry about gold for gas to get back, and Vinnie said maybe they would (for kicks) and Georgette continued to talk after Vinnie hungup, rolling her hips as she sighed, O Vinnie baby, and sighing as she slowly lowered the phone. They asked her if they were coming, how many, when – and Georgette played it cool and to the hilt; regally walking back to her throne, telling the girls to be quiet. Really! One would think it was years since you had a real man. They may be here in an hour or so, if they dont pull a job, so just keep yourlegs crossed, flaunting her arms, smiling graciously and secretly. They drank more bouillon, popped more bennie and dished the dirt. Camille was nervous, never having met an excon before. You just never meet that sort back home. As a matter of fact Goldie was the first hip queen she had ever met. All the fairies in her town were closet queens or pinkteas, so she was all a dither, jumping up, jerking around the room, asking question after question, Georgette telling her stories about broken noses, cut throats and Camille ooood and squealed, loving the tightness in her stomach and the apprehension in her bowels. She said she felt faint and that she simply must take a bath. The others laughed and chided, Georgette waving off the how could you’s as Camille filled one of the tubs in the kitchen and laid out her brushes: One for her back, one for her stomach, one for her chest, one for her arms, one for her legs, one for her feet, one for her toenails, one for her hands, one for her fingernails, and a special jar of cream for her face. She lined them up, handles facing her, and started from the left with the back brush. They told her to hurry or she would be attacked while bathing and O she was frightened, they should know better than to talk of such things. She was so upset she almost broke wind.
    Camille had finished her bath, collected her brushes and was primping in the bathroom when the bell rang. Georgette almost jumped to the door, but contained herself, sat