Stabs at Happiness (25 page)

There was no guarantee for the Babylonian that one might ever escape from the assaults of Evil; no hope that Evil might one day be decisively overcome. There was no belief that good works would in any way be rewarded, whether in this life or the next.

Kimberly was afraid, but since he was André's friend, she let him in. She wasn't yet at her most presentable; it was too early in the day. This guy was big, burly, beefy, and dark-skinned. His name was Vernon.

“The pigs got hold of André, man, they holding him for questioning. In the meantime, he said stash this shit here, and you just keep your mouth shut.”

“What are they questioning him about?”

“Walkin' against the motherfuckin' light, what do you think? Here, you keep these; I got to stay on the move. You don't let no pigs in without a motherfuckin' search warrant, understand? You hear what I say?”

It was a brown, rumpled grocery bag with a couple of revolvers in it, boxes of bullets, a couple of empty beer cans and a loaf of white bread.

Kim was too frightened to protest. She knew André had been selling dope. After Vernon was gone, she didn't know what to do. She was scared to have the guns around, but at the same time… she was scared to get rid of them. She didn't know what to do. She tried to call Beverly. Sometimes Beverly just wouldn't answer her phone, not wanting to talk long-distance to her mom.

Define terms, see people as they are, avoid self-deception. Make personal appearances, be direct, get to heart of matters. Pisces, Taurus, Virgo natives figure prominently.

Paul was with Beverly when Kim knocked on the door.

“Should I let her in?” Bev whispered, making a face as though she didn't want to. “Or should we pretend that we're not here?”

Paulie put his finger to his lips, smiling, telling her to be quiet, and they could hear Kim saying Beverly's name. It was hard not to giggle like conspirators, but they kept it down.

Beverly really liked the way Paul looked. He was slender, and betrayed effeminacy whenever he talked, but he was without guile, relatively speaking—certainly far from being as cynical as some of the others around here. He looked like a musician in a glitter band. His simplicity was like a kind of wit. It was refreshing.

While he took a bath she washed his hair

The mind-boggling, delirious sets created for D.W. Griffith's Babylon stood for years at the corner of Sunset and Hollywood boulevards. The property was eventually condemned as a fire hazard by the Los Angeles Fire Department. Many scorpions, rats, flies, cockroaches and other insects had made their home within this realm.

At last, feeling paranoid and pursued, worried about being arrested or attacked by other black gangsters connected with André and Vernon, Kimberly buzzed Jean-Luc via the doorman and then took the elevator up to the loft. She found him waiting for her, trembling yet still somehow serene, smoking a cigarette there in the midst of Babylon's ruins.

Kim's mascara was smudged. She had taken another pain pill with codeine about a half hour ago, washed down with a couple of sips from a soda she'd bought from a vendor in Washington Square Park, and the pain pill effect was just beginning to come on.

“I like your dress,” said Jean-Luc. He was wearing sunglasses now.

“Thank you.”

“What color lipstick is that?”

“Radio City Red.”

“It looks good. Well… are you hungry?”

Kimberly shrugged, greatly relieved by Jean-Luc's air of nonchalance.

“I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast, I guess,” she said, “except for a soda. André's being held for questioning by the police.”

“Didn't you say that he stood trial once before?”

“Yeah,” she said. “His lawyer got him off.”

“The cops are probably just hassling him, just letting him know that they're aware of his existence. I bet they don't have any real evidence. Andre's too slick.”

“You're probably right.” It sounded good to talk like this, anyway.

Then Jean-Luc said: “I'm all out of film. And I'm all out of money. Do you know any rich johns I could hit up? No, I guess not.”

Was he bummed out? He seemed philosophical.

“Where should we go to eat?” she said, and Jean-Luc looked at her for a moment before figuring out what she was talking about.

“There's a new Indian restaurant on Sixth. Why don't we go check it out? Does that sound okay?”

“They have rice, don't they?”

“I think so.”

They left the Babylonian ruins behind and went downstairs, outside. There were people all around, active, on the move. All of them seemed to have a sense of mission.

“Look,” said Kim, pointing, “There's Janet de Sade.”

“Who's that?” asked Jean-Luc, following her gaze.

Janet saw them, just as she was about to get into a yellow cab with some fat businessman, and she smiled, waving with one black glove.

Kim winced, shivered, and Jean-Luc, out of some nostalgia for ordinary human emotion, took her by the hand. There was music playing from some car's radio stopped at the light. It was the ballad “Angie” by the Rolling Stones.

Mick Jagger wore mascara these days, blue eyeshadow, lipstick and rouge, following the Babylonian fashion of the time. Jean-Luc had gold nail polish on, though he'd forgotten he was thus adorned.

A line of clear snot descended from Kimberly's left nostril, unchecked and unnoticed in an aristocratic manner until finally she became aware of something wet and dimly salt. Jean-Luc squeezed her cold hand with his warm.

They held hands tightly while they walked on down the street.

Stainless…

“In many ways, ‘Stainless' could be called a post-modern vampire story, as Grimson tweaks our perceptions with the literary equivalent of a knowing wink… what sets ‘Stainless' apart is not so much its narrative structure as its character details, its moments of intimacy between human and vampire.”

—Los Angeles Times Book Review
—David L. Ulin (04/28/1996)

“Surreal, grim, and graphic, there's a kind of ‘Sunset Boulevard' atmosphere of seedy glamour with elements of retro decadence and contemporary grunge. Beneath the corruption and casual cruelty, however, lies the message that true love still triumphs.”—Voya - Mary Arnold

“The finest vampire novel since, well, ‘Dracula'”

—Richard Meltzer, PDXS

“In ‘Stainless', Todd Grimson set out to write the ‘ultimate vampire novel'—and succeeded.” —Damien Walter, the
Guardian
(UK)

Brand New Cherry Flavor…

“When Lisa Nova seeks revenge, she discovers her own amazing powers, turns smoldering rage into a stunning creative force, and reveals herself as one of the great characters of literature. ‘Brand New Cherry Flavor' is a modern classic—brutal and funny, gorgeous and profound.”

—Katherine Dunn, author of GEEK LOVE

“Droll without ever being boring, perfectly poised on the edge that separates humor from horror, this novel furthers Grimson's reputation as one of the more inventive new writers probing the dark side of contemporary America.” —
Publisher's Weekly

“Witheringly funny in its satire against cinema, stardom and celebrity, Grimson's novel performs a gleeful demolition job on the mindlessness of American ‘slasher' movies.” —
The Daily Telegraph
, UK

“A hectic pursuit of narrative force by any means is allied to verbal wit and ingenious games in ‘Brand New Cherry Flavor,' Todd Grimson's spectacular novel of Hollywood and the occult… a foul-mouthed, extravagant novel, combining a strong sense of the demonic with some snappy one-liners. Grimson… has produced a novel of vitality and promise.”—The Times (of London) Literary Supplement

“‘Brand New Cherry Flavor' is pierced, tattooed, mirror-shaded, and as far off its face as the L. A. it depicts is off the planet… simultaneously hideously, hilariously believable and dream-logically scary. What's more, it's cool, nasty fun!” —Charles Shaar Murray, author,
Boogie Man