Lust Demented

{XIV}

“I DREAMT OF A KNIFE Farrow. I dreamt of a knife!” Seized by demons, Kiko woke up in a frenzy. We were lying in the dunes. She was trembling, sweating out her nightmares at sunrise. I quickly scanned the apocalyptic beach for Sgt. Bethany Powers, but it was deserted. The empty gun was at my side.

“Why’d she set her sights on you?”

“How do I know?”

“She wants you dead.”

“It seems that way, but then why’d she leave me alive.”

“She probably thinks you know Percy and Monika’s killer.”

“You don’t think she thinks I’m the one?”

“If it’s not you… it’s definitely someone you know.”

“It’s not me. I’ve been chipping away at my new book. I haven’t seen anyone I know for the past year.”

“Only person I really spent time with was Gloom.”

“How’d you run into her?”

“I worked for a men’s magazine in Shinjuku. We were both featured in the same article. Her story shared the same page as my breasts squeezed purple in a rope dress.”

“What?”

“I didn’t think anything of it, until I saw it in print. I felt like somehow her words covered me… protected me… kept me warm. Or maybe they just immobilized me.” Kiko turned her back on me as we made our way off the beach and back onto the barren Rockaway streets.

“So you like to read?”

“I love books. I often imagine that I am nothing more than a character within a book… my fate controlled by an anonymous writer.

“And now you’re in New York.”

“Wasn’t easy. Each time I tried to leave they begged and bribed me for one more shoot. Paid me this, gave me that, until they finally lit me on fire. Dousing me with pesticide, the cocksuckers laughed like children, calling me a whore, a bedbug, an insect. They threw cigars and candles at me. I woke up in a hospital and left immediately, without waiting for some bullshit doctor to tell me if I was okay or not. Emptied my savings full speed and bought my way into America.” Kiko rolled down her tights, grabbing my hand to slide it over the scarred flesh of her thigh.

Too far to make a bandit’s run for the Mexican border, our only viable options see-sawed between confrontation and chameleon.

“Take a look from the outside Farrow. Nobody has a better reason to kill Featherton than you. The guy really fucked your life up. If I were standing where you are right now: Revenge wouldn’t be out of the question.”

“He didn’t fuck my life up. I did.”

“Farrow don’t take all the blame. It’s just the way it goes. Sometimes people make you into what you are. You might not like it, but that’s what they do.”

“Nobody made me into anything.” I fell into her trap, inhaling the second-hand smoke of her abstruse cancer stick.

“People kill each other for nothing in this world. It’s definitely cheaper to hire a hitman than it is to take a cab from here back to the village.” Kiko’s eyes looked mad and deranged. Her small size seemed to amplify the effect as she got more and more worked up.

“I didn’t kill Percy.” It was crucial to be clear and concise. Nowadays, I was always on the stand.

Burly brick buildings made way for rows of boarded-up bungalows. We spotted a yellow cab parked in a driveway overrun by tall weeds. With a look of madness in her eyes, Kiko marched right up to the door, banging until the owner came out in a red velvet robe with a matching towel head wrap.

“That your cab in the driveway?” Kiko got right in the scruffy cabbie’s face, half-flirting, half-demanding.

“Yeah. Whose do you think it is?” My stomach dropped when I got a good look at the madame of the taxi, who did a silent double-take when he saw me leaning on her cab.

“We’re going to 6th Avenue and Minetta Lane. Take the Williamsburg Bridge.”

“You know what time it is? I just got home a couple hours ago.” Five borough fortuity, I guessed the cabbie spent his life moving in circles. Covering the same ground many times over. Maybe we all did.

“Hundred bucks even.”

“Whatever the meter says we’ll pay.” Kiko attempted to barter mid-yawn.

“Meter stays off.”

“Taxi Poems.” I tried to catch the cabbie’s eye, but only got a weird look from Kiko.