The Life of Lol (11 page)

Chapter 15.  Building again

Something had been wrong in Jack’s world the following weeks.  Taylor couldn’t figure out what, but there were plenty comings and goings though the back office.  Privately, he was a nice guy. Kind of a cross between one of those bad boys the girls always were attracted to, like a moth to a flame. Part of him was like an overprotective dad.  Taylor didn’t know which one he was yet.  Justine always left a little early at the end of the shift to catch the last bus, so Taylor and Jack were left alone.  Taylor didn’t give a fuck, she normally walked home anyway.  She had her own little apartment now she’d moved out of the hostel, it was only a dinghy little shithole but it was all hers.  Well, so long as she paid the rent.  Not that she was ever in a hurry to go home.  She liked the bar, liked talking to Jack at the end of a shift.  He was a nice guy, and ok to take to.  Sometimes, if the dodgy guys weren’t still in the back, he’d phone for Chinese food and they’d eat at the bar, sharing stories about their shitty lives.  To her surprise, for all his wisecracks, Jack Mason seemed surprisingly sensitive.  She remembered the time he told her about his first wife,

“You been married” he’d asked over a Pizza they just ordered.

She shook her head,

“Nah”, she replied, I lived with a shmuck who tried to hit me up for a loan when I was still in jail though.  Can you believe that, baby?  There I am, all dressed in orange and handcuffs and he comes in and asks to borrow a dollar!”

“Fucking unbelievable” laughed Jack, “what d’ya tell him?”

“Told him to go pimp out his mammas tits” Taylor said sweetly.  Jack laughed again, nearly choking on his food,

“You certainly got a way with words”, he said amusedly.

“It just comes to me”, Taylor said smiling sweetly, “like …ya know…it’s right there in my mouth before the brain has switched on”.

“Don’t change that”, he said, “it suits you.”

“Hmmm”, she considered, “gets me into trouble sometimes.  Got my ass flattened more than once.  Anyway, how bout you?  You look like a guy who was married?”

“Yeah”, he said, the amusement suddenly falling from his face, “I was.”

“Not anymore?” she prodded carefully.  Seemed like a painful memory.

“No”, he said, suddenly in a  faraway place, “she died.”

“Oh”, said Taylor quietly, “I’m sorry”.  And for once she was.  He looked quietly at his food as he remembered the sad memory.

“It’s ok”, he replied, “It was years ago.  She had leukaemia.  All the money I had, all the political power my fucking no good family wield and none of us could do anything.  She just sat there, said she’d love me forever, told me to enjoy my life and died.”

Taylor was quiet for a moment,

“And do you?” she asked, “enjoy life?”

“I dunno”, he said, “not normally.  I mean, it’s ok, but ya know, you get caught up in bullshit and life just carries on.  Before ya know it, you’ve spent four years without her by your side and you can’t believe how you’ve changed suddenly from being a happily married guy to a bitter old widower in a shitheap of a bar in such a short space of time”

“You need to go have some fun”, she said firmly, “I don’t mean you have to forget her, but have fun”

“Fun”, he asked, “what do you suggest?”

“How would I know”, she answered, “it’s your town.  I’ve been away for eight years, baby.  You find something fun for us to do and we’ll go do it.”

“You and me?” he asked sceptically.

“Sure”, she said firmly, “I’ll be your fun buddy”

“I dunno”, he said jokingly, “I don’t want a repeat of the other week when you hit a guy with a bat”

She smiled,

“Baby”, she said in her singsong voice, “you know you enjoyed beating the bejesus out of that guy.  Kind of like free stress relief.”

“Yeah I guess”, he said considering, “Let’s do it.  Let’s bunk off work and go have fun.”

“Close the bar”, she said conspiratorially ”wont the owner be pissed?  He’s a bit of an asshole, so I heard?”

Jack smiled at her, and kissed her on the nose,

“He’s ok”, Jack laughed, “he tends to knock around with women who are crazy bitches, ya know…go slugging guys out with a fucking bat, that sort of thing.”

“I can’t understand that”, replied Taylor looking up at the ceiling innocently, “I just abhor violence, baby, I just can’t understand the need for it at all”

They finished their food, laughing.  He cheered up again.  In the end, they had several days out.  At the end of the third day out, he invited her to his bungalow, and cooked them both dinner.  That was the first time she slept with him.  He was a gentle lover, which in itself was a new experience for Taylor.  The house was luxurious, but barely lived in, like he didn’t really care about it, but it was just there all the same.  He seemed to change when they were together, as they increasingly were.  Less mysterious, less quiet, he began to open up to her about a few things in his past.  Trust was important to him, he told her. And even though when he left his banking details open on the computer one night while he took a call, she didn’t pay too much heed to it.   Of course, it had become second nature for her to memorise the number anyway, that was just what she was used to, but she knew she would never use it, or do anything against him.  They grew closer.  Eventually, she told him about her childhood, and finally, the first person ever to know, she told him of her stash hidden behind the bus depot with Groucho’s necklace and the money.  He laughed at her, and told her he wished they’d have known each other as kids.  He felt sure they would have been friends.  They began to trust each other over the ensuing weeks, and although she still didn’t know the details of his business affairs, she knew now that the Carl guy with glasses was indeed a very bad guy.  He was Jack’s contact with the East side mob, Vincent Maranzano’s family.  Although Jack normally did whatever he damn well pleased, he normally had to ok things with carl first, and sometimes Carl would have jack and his employees do a favour for him.  Carl, said Jack, was not one to be fucked with.    

Sometime after, Taylor was alone in the bar one night, finishing washing up.  Jack was home, watching a ball game with his friends and Justine was night off.  It was a Wednesday, so it was dead anyway.  Taylor, for the most of the night, had been alone in the bar watching reruns of Dallas.  Well, alone apart from Horace the cat.  Horace hated her, she knew that, and she hated him too.  He’d spent most of his miserable life scrounging food form around the neighbourhood, mainly from outside the nearby Italian restaurant.  But when that had closed, he ended up hanging around the dustbins until Jack felt sorry for him and let him live in the bar.  He was a mangy old moggy, with moth eaten fur and one eye missing.  His remaining solitary green orb glared malevolently at Taylor from where he sat on the heater at the top of the stairs. For the last few weeks, Horace had seemed to have some sort of abscess on the lower part of his stomach.  Taylor still kept away from him, the mangy feline freaked her out the way he stared in his evil one eyed manner.  She was just replacing the glasses on the high shelf when the cat let out such an agonising howl that Taylor jumped out of her skin.  Damn the dirty moggy.  He’d probably caught a mouse or something just to torment her.  Not that Taylor was scared of mice, but it would be an extra hassle for her to have to shift it.  Well, she decided, the bastard would be going out.  Bit of luck the Chinese takeout would catch him and put him in the fucking stew pot.  She ran through to the heater.  Horace was on the floor.  At first she thought he was dead, there seemed to be stuff coming out of him, blood and stuff.

And then she realised.  Horace wasn’t a he.  Horace was a she.  Horace was pregnant.  In fact, more than being pregnant, Horace had kittens.  The cat licked at the three tiny mewling sticky infants and glared up at Taylor as she bent to them.  The look didn’t seem to be malevolence this time, was that just her imagination?  One of the mewling things didn’t seem to be moving.  Horace had already chewed the cord connecting the kittens to his body, and was busy licking and prodding the unmoving infant.  The other two were already trying to stand.  Hunting around the bar, she found an old cardboard box that had once held racing magazines inside, and carefully, she put the two infant kittens inside, placing the box close to Horace so he could keep them safe.  Then there was the third one.

It wasn’t dead, it was just weak, and Taylor realised it wasn’t going to live.  She’d never been a cat person, and as a kid, she’d been afraid of the feral things that scratched and hissed at her as she poked through the rubbish of the streets.  But this thing was somehow different.  She picked it up in her hands, tucking it down inside her top to keep it warm against her body, and went to the fridge in the back room.  There inside was a bottle of milk the staff used to make coffee with.  Now what the fuck do I do, Taylor wondered, the thing was still unmoving so just dumping it down with a saucer of the stuff wouldn’t do any good.  Not that there were any saucers anyway.  The little she knew about babies told her that young had to have warm things, so she heated a mugful of the milk in the microwave.  She dipped her finger into the milk, cursing at the sudden heat.  After blowing the milk cold, she dipped it on her finger and tried to get the tiny cat to drink.  It wouldn’t, and could only barely move.  Taking the milk, she went back into the empty closed bar and sat in a  booth with her feet up. 

There was an old episode of Homicide on the TV, so she turned up the volume and settled down, cradling the kitten as she did with the milk on the table.

“You kind of remind me of me, little fur ball”, she said looking at the tiny black kitten.  It had little white paws that moved ever so slightly,

“I was like you”, she said, a little runt that had the whole world turned against it soon as she popped into the world.  But you know what?  I turned out ok, I have a friend help me to survive.”

She tried again with her finger in the milk, but the cat wouldn’t take the milk.  It was dying.

Taylor sighed,

“Now look”, she said, “Y’all can’t just give up on the world like that.  There so much to see, there’s some Chinese guys down the street.  Y’all can go pee in  their kitchen cos Your momma does that and it really pisses em off.  Then there’s old Stormhatch at the end of the row, with his antiques and all his dolls and shit.  That fucker’ll chase you all the way to Kansas”

She tried again with the milk, and this time a tiny tongue emerged feebly and licked a few drops of the milk.  Encouraged, Taylor tried again.  The cat licked again,

“That’s it”, she said softly, “You’re getting it.  See, it ain’t so hard.  Like going to jail.  First day is kind of bewildering, but after that it’s just you against the world, baby.  And if you play your cards right, then you’re gonna be the queen of that fucking world.  Especially with me to help you.”

The cat licked more milk off her finger, and she could feel the heartbeat getting stronger through its body,

“You and me kid”, she said kissing the tiny kitten on the nose and suddenly thinking of Groucho, “we’ll show your momma who’s the coolest cat in town huh?  Least you got a momma to make proud of you.”

As she cuddled the kitten, for one of the first times in her life, she wondered who her mom was, or had been.  She’d never known, nobody at the home had known either.  Who’d done this for her when she had been a mewling infant.  No fucker, that’s who.  Perhaps that was who she wanted the little cat to survive.  It hadn’t got a fucking chance, Horace its mom had all but abandoned it as soon as it started to weaken.  Survival of the fittest.  That didn’t give a lot of hope for the fucking weak, did it.  Taylor wondered whether that was why her mom had abandoned her?  A weak little baby, maybe mom  already had a dozen in a  tenement block and a little weak girl was too much.  Leave the little scrap outside, hopefully it’d die and spare the city the hassle of another orphan mouth to feed.  She looked down at the little kitten, feeling its feeble heartbeat as it lay nestled between her breasts.  It tried to purr to show its contentment, and nestled further down to find more warmth.

She settled down to watch the Homicide double bill.  Normally, she would be watching this at home, but it didn’t really matter.  This was as good a place as any.  About two thirds through the second episode, the felt the breathing of the little kitten weaken, and its heartbeat falter.  She pulled it out of her top, and kissed it on the nose ,

“Well, little fucker”, she said sadly, 2I guess we won’t be having all the wonderful adventures, will we.  I suppose I’ll have to piss the Chinese takeout guys off on my own.  Shame ya know.  I was kinda looking forward to it, just me and you kid, me and you against the world.”

Fuck this shit.  Taylor wasn’t a crying person, but her eyes were watering as she kissed the tiny kitten on the nose.  Contented, and with the only life it had ever known one of comfort and warmth, it purred to her touch.  She felt it take its last breath and die in her hands.             

She laid the kitten on the table softly, and stood from the booth, wiping the sniffles from her nose.  Going to behind the bar, she poured herself a double bourbon and downed it,

“Here’s to you Horace Jr”, she said, “take care of him for me Groucho.  My two best guys in the world are together now.  Don’t you guys have any fun till I get there.”