Damnation Street

44.

Weiss went down the brothel stairs, into the lounge, into the shadows. He grabbed the little madam by the arm and dragged her out of her office. The blood from his hand stained the sleeve of her brown cardigan.

"Hey," she snarled at him.

"Shut up," said Weiss. "Where's Kristy?"

Her eyes flitted to the front door. She was waiting for the two enforcers to arrive from across the lane.

Weiss gripped her arm hard, dragged her closer.

"You're hurting me!"

"Come on," he said. He shook her. Her football tits stood solid, never wobbled, but her wig came askew, curls covering one eye.

"In the back," she told him.

"What room?"

"I don't know."

She knew. He glanced out the door. He saw the enforcers charging. He saw me step in front of them. He figured he didn't have much time. He shoved the madam away.

He plunged deeper into the shadowy lounge. From the corner of his eyes, he caught the flutter of fabric on every side of him as girls drew back against the walls. In the center of the room, in the island of light, the two bikers stood straight, holding their pool cues-ready, in a casual sort of way, to beat him to death if the need arose. But he went right by them. They let him pass.

He saw the door at the rear. He went for it. He tried the doorknob. It wouldn't turn. He looked over his shoulder. The enforcers were now pounding me into the mud. He didn't think it would take them long to finish up. He faced front, lifted his foot, and planted a kick just beneath the knob.

The door flew in. He was through.

Now he was in a hallway lit by red light. There were doors on either side of him. He grabbed the nearest knob. Threw the door open. Went to the next door. Threw that open too. He marched down the hall to the next door, then the next. He threw the doors open. In each room, he saw what he saw-quick, chaotic. Tumbling glimpses of raw human meat hinged together. A half second of flesh and confusion, the red light bathing everything. There were snarls and cries. A woman on her hands and knees. A man shackled to bedposts. Dark circles of wide open mouths. Damp patches of pubic hair. Straining limbs, straining faces. Scalding nakedness without tenderness or glamour. Nakedness like a blow.

Voices rose around him. Men shouted threats. Women spat rough, ugly curses. The smell of sweat and sex washed over him. The red light washed over him.

He kept going. Any second he expected the enforcers to barge in behind him, to grab him, beat him down, drag him out. But they didn't come so he kept on. Storming down the hall. Throwing open doors. A woman on her knees, her face impaled. A fat man squatting. A trio of sodomists tangled in a mess of flesh.

Then, up ahead of him, near the end of the corridor, one door opened on its own. A whore in spangled red panties stepped out to see what the commotion was. She was young, maybe thirty. A sharp face framed with long hair dyed blond. A small body, painfully thin but with large round breasts, implants, bare. She saw Weiss. Startled fear came into her eyes. That's what gave her away.

He pulled up short, his heart pounding, his lungs work- ing hard. He and the whore looked at each other. Shouts and cries and curses filled the air around them.

"You talk to me or you talk to him," Weiss told her, breathless. "You know who's following me, right? You talk to me or you talk to him."

The fear in the whore's eyes turned to terror.

Then the lounge door banged open and the two enforcers rushed in.

The whore glanced around Weiss's shoulder. He turned to follow the glance and saw the enforcers at the end of the hall. They were lined up shoulder to shoulder to block his way. They were pressing their big fists into their big palms. Their pale eyes were gleaming. They were getting ready to come for him.

But they were too late. Weiss had already said what he had to say. He turned back to the whore.

"It's all right," she told the two thugs. She lifted her chin. "Forget it. It's all right."

Weiss took another look at them. The light died in their eyes. He smiled. The enforcers punched their palms, turned around and went back through the door, and were gone.

The other doors began slamming shut all along the corridor. The cursing stopped. A murmuring quiet fell over the hallway. Finally, Weiss was alone in the red light with the bare-breasted whore. Kristy.

"Come on," she said.

She slipped back into her room. He followed her.