Suicide Girls In The AfterLife (2 page)

Chapter 6

   Sure enough, after we descend the hill and enter the city, we walk down an impossibly clean street to the corner, where there is a bus stop and a bench. Salvadore sits down and pulls a hanky out of an inner jacket pocket and blows his nose.
   “Where is everyone?” I ask. I can’t help but notice that we are the only people within sight. And not only are we alone on the street, but neither is there any traffic. Absolutely nothing moves anywhere, except us. Not even a single candy wrapper blows by. “This is kinda creepy,” I say.
   “Maybe they all have the day off,” Salvadore says, returning the hanky to its pocket. I start to reply but the appearance of an immaculate city bus distracts me. It appears to be brand new, sparkling clean, like the buildings themselves.
   “Here we are,” Salvadore says, rising from the bench. “That wasn’t too long of a wait.”
   The bus door hisses open and Salvadore gestures for me to board first. I climb the steps cautiously, eyeing the black female driver with more than a little suspicion. She smiles cheerfully at me as I look around for a coin box that isn’t there.
   “No toll,” Salvadore says from behind me. “Just take a seat.”
   I do as I’m told, choosing the first bench on the left, and slide over to the window. Salvadore sits beside me as the door closes and the bus pulls out onto the deserted street.
   “Almost there now,” he says.
   Frowning, I look from him to the view outside the window just as the bus is pulling over at what must be the next bus stop. Before I can make any reaction whatsoever, he has risen from the seat and is exiting the bus again. I leap up, hurrying after him.
   Once more on the sidewalk, I say, “Was that even half a block? We could have just walked.”
   Salvadore isn’t listening though. Instead, he is smiling up at the building before us. As I turn to follow his gaze with my own, I notice that it is no longer day but night here in the Virgin City. A comfortable, breezy night, late summer or early fall by the feel of it.
   And we are no longer alone either. People are everywhere; happy people, every last one of them. Milling around, talking, laughing, smoking, joking. Some of them are dressed to the nines while others appear to be homeless and in rags. A good number of them I hear commenting on the beautiful evening, the stars and the moon.
   Glancing skyward, I once again see the Mother Mary smiling, replacing the moon as she had replaced the sun. Her countenance is more than just the moon though. Peering closing at the stars, I can just make out her blue cloak on each and every one of them. A billion Marys hang above us, twinkling and joyful and I have to look away quickly, suddenly feeling a bit queasy.
   “Overwhelmed?” Salvadore asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. Without waiting for my response, he continues and gestures at the building before us, “Why don’t we go inside.”
   For the first time, I focus my attention on the grand white structure lit up as if for a debutante’s ball. “What is this place?”
   “This,” Salvadore says, “is the Sterling Hotel.”
   

Chapter 7

   We move through the crowd and begin ascending the hotel’s two dozen marble stairs to the revolving glass doors that allow us access into the elegant building and its beautifully refined lobby.
   Despite all the bustling outside, the lobby is relatively calm. A few people are seated on lush white furniture, speaking in soothing tones and smiling and nodding at each other.
   “This is too weird for me,” I say, stopping in my tracks. “Why does everyone seem so nice?”
   Salvadore shrugs. “They’re mostly pretty nice, I suppose.”
   “Is this the afterlife? A fancy hotel? Because if it is, I have to tell you, I’m kind of disappointed.”
   He stares at me, looking vaguely annoyed. “We have to get you checked in. As I think I mentioned, I have other appointments.”
   “Are most people happy to find out this is the afterlife?” I glance around again. “I can’t believe they’re happy about it.”
   Salvadore sighs. “This isn’t quite the afterlife, Pogue.”
   “It’s not?”
   “I’m not supposed to say anything about this. But, frankly, you’re getting on my nerves. You were supposed to go to the seminar.”
   “What seminar?”
   “The seminar that would explain all this to you.” He gestures at our surroundings. “This is just where we have to put you up for a while. Free of charge, of course.”
   “Put me up? What are you talking about?” I am beginning to suspect that I’m not actually dead at all. My suicide attempt must have failed and now I’m in some loony-bin, probably imagining all of this. Salvadore is probably a head shrinker. Unless I’m imagining him too. “I’m not really dead, am I? Fuck! I knew I’d manage to screw it up somehow.” I stand there shaking my head, disgusted with myself.
   “You’re dead all right,” Salvadore says.
   I look at him, skeptical. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
   He holds up a hand, his thumb and pinky folded down. “Scout’s Honor, Pogue. You are indeed dead.”
   It takes me a second to decide whether or not I believe him, but then I smile. He does seem like an honest old coot. “Oh, thank God. I was sick of my life. You have no idea.”
   Rolling his eyes, he says, “Can we get back to business, please?”
   “Oh, right. Sure. You were saying something about a seminar?”
   “Yes. But never mind that because you won’t need to attend it now.”
   “Why not?” For some reason I feel slightly jilted.
   Salvadore is starting to look extremely distressed and impatient, so I just forget my last question and resign myself to let him tell me whatever it is he needs to tell me. Which turns out to be this: “Both Heaven and Hell are undergoing some renovations right now. Everyone who’s already there is fine. But we have nowhere to put up all the newcomers, like yourself. You have to understand, both places—but particularly Hell—are growing in scope and size every day. So, every few millennia, we have to make renovations here and there. Spruce the place up, if you will.”
   I listen to all this, nodding as if I know what he’s talking about. When it seems like he’s finished, I say, “So, you put everyone in a hotel?”
   “That’s correct, yes.”
   It’s my turn to sigh and I let out a huge one. “Wow. That’s pretty fucked up. When will the renovations be complete?”
   He smiles, like he’s finally on familiar ground again. “Any day now.” He holds out a hand to me. “Shall we get you checked in now?”
   I think about it, regarding his outstretched hand carefully. “I guess so,” I say finally, taking his hand and allowing him to lead me to the front desk where a clerk with a pencil-thin mustache awaits, smiling happily like he has the best job in the world.
   “Check in,” Salvadore says. “Eldridge, Pogue.”
   The clerk nods and types something into his computer. “Ah, yes. Suicide. Electrocution was it?”Frowning, I say, “What does that have to do with anything?”
   Pencil-mustache’s smile widens. “Only everything,” he says.
   “Electrocution,” Salvadore confirms and Mustache bends down, rummages beneath the counter for a minute and comes up with a keycard. “You’ll be on the fifth floor. Room 658.”
I take the card and look at it. One side has the picture of a hippie guy, grinning and giving the peace sign. I flip it over and the other side shows a pouty Goth, wearing black eyeliner and looking sullen. “Who are these guys?” I ask.
   “Well,” Salvadore says. “My job here is done. Good luck to you, Pogue.” He holds out his hand to be shaken.
   “You’re just gonna leave me here?” I say. “I thought you were my escort.”
   “I was. And I escorted you. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
   “You should at least escort me to my room,” I interrupt. “That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
   “Actually, Pogue,” he says, “truth be told, I wasn’t even supposed to be your escort. I was just filling in for someone else.”
   I fold my arms across my chest. “Who?”
   Turning around to face the doors, Salvadore points and says, “Her.”
   I look and see a big black woman just spinning out of the revolving door. Once inside, she turns to the person behind her, just entering. “Get your scrawny white ass in here, bitch,” the black woman bellows. “Do I look like I got all day?”
   The person she’s yelling at—a teenage girl—looks pissed. She’s dressed like a street kid, in ratty clothes that are too big for her and her hair hangs to her shoulders in long greasy strips.
   The black woman, dressed in a big purple dress with swirls of green and orange all over it, grabs the teenager by the arm and starts pulling her over to the check-in counter.
   “This is Katina,” the woman tells Mr. Mustache. “Another damn fool who went and offed herself before she’s even old enough to vote.”
   “I told you,” Katina says, trying to pull free of the woman’s grasp, “I didn’t off myself. At least not on purpose.”
   The black woman releases the girl and puts her hands on her hips. “Uh huh. Did you or did you not stick a needle in your arm?”
   Katina looks at the floor and says nothing.
   “Uh huh,” the woman continues. “And did that needle contain enough smack to drop an elephant or did it not?”
   Again, Katina makes no reply.
   “Uh huh,” the woman repeats, turning back to the desk. “Suicide.”
   “It was an accident!” Katina cries.
   Beside me Salvadore shakes his head sadly while watching this exchange.
   “Honey,” the woman says to Katina. “There are no accidents. Almost every-damn-body is a suicide when you get right down to it. Those are just the rules. You smoke and die of lung cancer? The big boy upstairs says suicide. You eat at McDonald’s every damn day of your life and your heart turns into a little ball of cement? Suicide. You get drunk and drive into a tree or turn your liver into jelly? Suicide. Don’t matter how long or short it takes people. Fact is, most people kill themselves and it’s no use arguing about it. Like I said, those are the rules.”
   Katina looks at me, her eyes pleading.
   I shrug. “I did it on purpose. Sorry.”
   Salvadore clears his throat and addresses the big black woman. “Ms. Stardust, I’d like to introduce you to Pogue. She was supposed to be your pick-up.”
   “Is that so?” The woman gives me the once over. “Well, sorry I missed you, sweetheart, but as you can tell I’ve had my hands full.”
   It’s only when I’m looking at her face to face that I notice the Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in her throat. And now that I’m thinking about it, her voice is an octave or so too low.
   The fact that she’s really a dude is only of passing interest to me. “Nice to meet you…uh…Ms. Stardust.”
   “This sucks,” Katina blurts abruptly. “It’s not fair! I have to go to hell for killing myself, even though I didn’t really kill myself?”
   “I don’t make the rules, sweetheart,” Ms Stardust says, examining her long red fingernails. “I just follow ‘em.”
   “Hell?” I say, alarmed. I look at Salvadore. “What is she talking about hell for?”
   He looks down at his watch. “Would you look at the time? I can’t believe how far behind I’m running!” And before I can stop him, he walks briskly through the lobby and out through the revolving doors.
   I stare after him, my jaw hanging. “That son of a bitch.”
   Ms. Stardust barks a laugh. “Honey, you’re lucky he took time out of his busy schedule to escort you over here. He almost never lowers himself for the suicides.”
   “What do you mean?”
   “Oh, that Salvadore. He usually does the rich white people who died old. Or sometimes young ones, if they were in tip-top condition and had nothing to do with their own deaths, which according to the rules, amounts to pretty much the same thing.”
   “I’m not following you,” I say.
   “Look,” Ms. Stardust says, addressing both Katina and I. “Pretty much everyone is considered a suicide. The only ones who aren’t, are the ones who could afford to take care of themselves, you see what I’m saying? Rich folks that could go to their fancy-ass gyms, buy the best organic foods, get the best medical care. Those are the folks that are in the luxury suites right this very minute and those are the folks old Sally escorts over here. You were just a fluke, honey.”
   I try to absorb what she’s saying and can’t quite make it work in my head.
   Katina says, “So, in other words, the rich people own fucking heaven too? What the fuck is up with that? That’s not right!”
   Ms. Stardust says, “Umm hmm. Death is no fairer than life, sweetheart. Don’t let anybody tell you different.” The she turns to Mustache Man and starts getting Katina checked in while Katina and I eye each other with morbid curiosity.
   “You really offed yourself then, huh?”
   I nod. “But I had my reasons.”
   “No reason is a good enough reason,” Ms. Stardust says over her shoulder.
   Katina reaches into the pocket of her gray hoodie and pulls out a pack of gum. Juicy Fruit. Thoughtfully, she unwraps a piece and then offers me the pack. I accept and by the time Ms. Stardust has returned her attention to us, we are both merrily chewing away and not talking.
   Ms. Stardust hands Katina her keycard. “You’re on the sixth floor. Room 544.”
   I pause in my chewing. “I’m on the fifth floor.”
   Arching an eyebrow at me, Ms. Stardust says, “Is that right? Honey, I’m surprised you’re not on the first or second.”
   “Because I killed myself on purpose?”
   “That’s right.”
   “And Katina here killed herself by accident, so she gets to be on a higher floor.”
   “Now you’re catching on. And you know what? I’d love to stay here and chit-chat with you lovely girls all night long, but my shift isn’t over yet and I got more junkies to claim.”
   Still chewing her gum, Katina asks, “Are you a grim reaper or what?”
   Ms. Stardust puts her hands on her hips and looks down at Katina, her face scrunched into a frown. “Now, why would you want to go insult me like that? Do I look like a grim reaper to you?”
   “Well, no, but…how should we know what a grim reaper looks like? It’s not like I’ve ever been dead before.”
   “Umm hmm,” Ms. Stardust says, still looking perturbed. “Anyway, you ladies enjoy your stay here at the Sterling Hotel. If you need anything, just dial zero on your room phones and Louis over there will see that you get it. Okay, then? Good. Bye-bye.”
   Katina and I watch Ms. Stardust sashay across the lobby and out into the night, both of us chewing our gum much louder than we have to, as if the normal act of chewing gum will rub off on this extremely strange situation.
   Once she’s gone, we look at each other and shrug.
   “Guess I’ll go find my room,” I say.
   “Yeah, me too.”
   Together we make our way over to the elevators, Katina snapping her gum every few seconds. I push the up button and the door immediately opens. Inside, a young pale guy stands there, just watching us.
   I say, “Are you like, the elevator guy?”
   “The elevator guy? No, I’m Ago.”
   “Pardon me?” By now Katina and I have entered the elevator and the shiny silver door has slid shut.
   “That’s my name,” the guy says. “Ago.”
   “Ah.”
   “That’s a pretty stupid name, you ask me,” Katina says.
   Ago gives her a wounded look, so I quickly say, “Don’t mind her. She’s pissed because they’re saying she’s a suicide.”
   “Pretty much everyone is a suicide,” Ago says.
   “Not me!” Katina snaps her gum angrily and pushes the button for the sixth floor. “Hey,” she says. “There’s a button here that says 4 ½.”
   “That’s my floor,” Ago says. “You don’t want to go there.”
   “Why not?” Katina asks.
   “Because it doesn’t really exist.”
   Katina and I both look at Ago as if he’s slipped a groove. Finally, I say, “I don’t know. Now you have me curious.”
   “Me too,” says Katina. “I’m getting off on your floor.”
   Ago sighs. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
   The elevator stops at every floor but no other passengers get on. From what we can see, the hotel looks like a pretty shabby one.
   We arrive and leave the fourth floor without incident and then the elevator lurches violently, causing all three of us to lose our balance. Katina and I fall down, but Ago is holding onto the rail, obviously expecting it.
   “You could have warned us,” I say, getting to my feet.
   “No, shit,” Katina agrees, standing up. “I swallowed my gum.”
   Ago ignores us and begins trying to pry open the elevator doors with his fingers. He grunts and groans with the effort, occasionally swearing under his breath. “Can one of you give me a hand?”
   “Sure.” I go over and start to yank on the doors. A minute later, it budges and we can clearly see that we’re stuck between floors. Forcing the doors wide enough for a person to be able to squeeze through takes another few seconds and then I stand back to admire our handy work. “Looks like we’ll have to climb up.”
   “Always do,” Ago says and begins to do exactly that.
   Outside the elevator, there is nothing to be seen. Just darkness.
   “Is the power out on your floor?” I ask.
   “There’s never any power on 4 ½,” Ago says, hauling himself up and clambering into the darkness. Then he disappears out of sight, as if the darkness has swallowed him whole.
   “Ago?” I call. “Where did you go, Ago?”
   As if from very far away, his voice drifts down to us. “Just be on your way. This is no place for you.”
   Of course this does nothing but make me want to check out floor 4 ½ all the more. “Give me a boost,” I say to Katina.
   For a second she looks like she may protest, then she shrugs and makes a step out of her laced hands.
   Using my elbows for leverage, I pull myself up and exit the elevator into nothing but thick blackness. I turn around to see the inside of the elevator, though it is no longer directly behind me. It’s a long ways off, a skinny rectangle of light that seems to be receding even as I watch. “What the hell…”