Read Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr for Free Online Page A

and how she
defied her brother, the freak, and how she laid him out and walked
right out of the house. And I mean right past him honey, right past
him, and you should have seen his face! he was agog, simply agog. O I
laid him out but good. O how wonderful. How simply wonderful. O how I
wish I had been there. I would have adored seeing you lay that big
freak out. I/ll never forget that atrocious scene he pulled on us.
Never. All those straight creeps are like that. They clapped their
hands, 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 bouillon, bennie in the
bouillon, 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 your legs 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