PrologueΒ |Β 1Β |Β 2Β |Β 3Β |Β 4Β |Β 5Β |Β 6Β |Β 7Β |Β 8Β |Β 9Β |Β 10Β |Β 11Β |Β 12Β |Β 13Β |Β 14Β |Β 15Β |Β 16Β |Β 17Β |Β 18Β |Β 19Β |Β 20AΒ |Β 20BΒ |Β 21Β |Β 22Β |Β 23Β |Β 24Β |Β 25-26Β |Β 27Β |Β 28-29Β |Β 30Β |Β 31Β |Β 32Β |Β 33Β |Β 34Β |Β 35-36Β |Β 37Β |Β 38AΒ |Β 38BΒ |Β 38CΒ |Β 38DΒ |Β 39Β |Β 40Β |Β 41Β |Β 42-43Β |Β 44-45Β |Β 46Β |Β 47Β |Β 48-49AΒ |Β 49BΒ |Β 50Β |Β 51Β |Β 52Β |Β 53Β |Β 54Β |Β 55Β |Β 56Β |Β 57AΒ |Β 57BΒ |Β 58-59|Β 60Β |Β 61Β |Β 62Β |Β 63Β |Β 64Β |Β 65Β |Β 66Β |Β 67Β |Β 68-69Β |Β 70AΒ |Β 70BΒ |Β 71AΒ |Β 71BΒ |Β 72Β |Β 73Β |Β 74AΒ |Β 74B | 75 | 76-77A
PART II
ELEVATOR TO THE GALLOWS
77B
Trey woke up and started his normal routine without realizing for a couple of hours that anything was different. He always slept on his divan in his office. He always went upstairs to take a shower while all his whores were asleep and his tenants were already at work. He always went into the speak kitchen to raid it for leftovers. He always ran the tunnel between the speak and his warehouse to restock the barβ
Oh.
He hadnβt awakened in the speak in months.
After a decent nightβs sleep and daylight between first seeing that cat looking at Marina like a love-struck puppy and now, Trey could allow as how perhaps heβd been a little quick to leap to conclusions, but before Gale, Jimmy had been eager to introduce himself to Marina. Carville had had access to Marina twelve hours a week that he hadnβt wasted. Now that Trey was thinking about it, he had noticed a cat here and there glancing at her since sheβd gotten all spiffed up. She wasnβt showing that much yet and she had pregnancy-hiding clothes down to an art form.
Heβd chalked it up to his presence, Trey Goddamned Dunham, he of the Machine, and what kind of woman someone of his looks and status would marry, but β¦ what if it was her? He hadnβt been with her when Jimmy started talkinβ sweet, nor had he been with her when Gale went to rescue her from a βbread avalanche.β
That hurt two different ways. He shouldβve been the one to rescue her from a falling rack of bread, but heβd been off getting coffee because he wanted to get to the ballgame and he was irritated by the grocery detour.
What would Trey have done if heβd seen her now for the first time instead of seeing her at her worst, sartorial-wise? Looked a little longer, was all. There was something about her that called to a cat. Wasnβt her looks; half of that was illusion. Wasnβt her eyes; those were plain brown. Wasnβt her smile or voice; those werenβt noteworthy.
It was all those things working together, plus that drop of vivacity, cup of kindness, and bucket of sweetness that drew a manβs eye. And then a catβd find out how fucking smart she was.
He almost didnβt blame Jimmy or the little pipsqueak from the grocery storeβGale, for Godβs sakeβfor wanting to see if he could pick her up. But she should know better! Trey found her plenty attractive so whyβd she care about any other catβs opinion?
What had she done all those hours heβd spent looking for her after sheβd left him at the grocery store? Driving around looking for his lost wife, worried sick something bad would happen to a sweet, innocent little thing like her. Going home to wait for hours because he had no idea and hoping she would find her way home. Shit, he was more worried about her safety than he was mad that sheβd been suckered all the way into bed.
He sighed and was about to head home to make her yell at him and sort out all his feelings for him when speak business intruded. He didnβt have another chance to think about it till ten.
He scowled. He didnβt want to go home and watch her scratching that fucking gash till it bled, which she only did whenβ
βOh, God,β he whispered.
He grabbed his assistant to cover him for the night, then sped home and practically jumped out of the car before he parked. All the lights were off. It was quiet. βMarina!β he roared.
No answer.
He didnβt think, just took the dark stairs two at a time and clicked on her bedside lamp to see her fast asleep. He relaxed, sagging against the door frame.
Asleep.
In her pretty, expensive-looking dress.
And good shoes.
Dried blood crusting her sleeve, smeared all over the sheets.
He fell to his knees beside the bed and shook her. βMarina! Marina, Sugga, Iβm sorry. I didnβt mean a word of it. I was scared and worried and mad and jealous. Sugga, wake up. Please.β
He checked her pulse. There. Weak.
But her skin was on fire.
βOh, God,β he croaked as he felt her head and all those memories of his mother and brothers came crashing in on him. But this was no flu. Her whole arm was angry red, mottled with white, the biggest wound oozing stinking pus.
βNo,β he said desperately. βMarina, you canβt die on me. Please donβt die. Iβm sorry I made you scratch.β
The idea of life without her was unbearable and he whipped into action, shooting to the bathroom to run a tub of lukewarm water. He dug in a closet to find Epsom salts he used to soak his feet after a long night at the speak and dumped it in. He shot down to the freezer and cracked ice out of a tin, wrapped it up in a towel, and shot back upstairs.
She pulled away with a whimper and scowl as soon as he put an ice cube on her forehead.
βMarina, wake up. Sugga, you gotta wake up. You have a fever. Your soreβs infectedββ She must have really dug into it because heβd shot off at the mouth even though he knew better, saying everything her mama had said to her, only he hadnβt used a belt. Didnβt matter. He was no better than the Reverend Missus, only now Marina might die from the words heβd flung at her.
βMarina,β he rasped, kissing her forehead, which was hot as hell. βWake up. Wake up, Sugga. Donβt die on me. Iβve lost too many people I love already. Please, please,β he begged, βwake up. Donβt die.β
βI want to,β she whispered, startling him. He pulled away to see her still in the same position, her eyes still closed. Her mouth barely moved. He didnβt know if she was asleep or not. βMy mother did. Why canβt I?β
βAw, cβmon, Sugga,β he wheedled. βYou donβt mean that.β
βIβm not strong like her,β she breathed. βLasted all that time before something made her want to die. She did it. I wish I could be that brave.β
Trey was really starting to panic. Heβd had no idea Marina was so fragile, and he wasnβt quite sure how to handle this other than keeping her alive.
Her grateful smile, gone. Her contented face, gone. Her laughter, gone. Her instinctive, unintentional lawyering, gone. Her scent, gone. Her sweet disposition, gone.
She should be yelling at him for being so fucking stupid, but her anger, too, was gone. That was the scariest thing of all.
He wrangled her prone body up until he had her on the edge of the bed. βCβmon now, Sugga, stand up. Letβs get you in the bathtub.β
βI donβt care if I stink,β she said airily.
βYou donβt,β he lied hastily. βYouβre running a fever anβ we gotta cool you off.β
βFevers kill people, donβt they? Oh, that would be nice. Save me the trouble. So peaceful. Go to sleep in a hot bath and never wake up β¦ β
βMarina,β he said desperately, pulling her to her feet. She was a dead weight, though. βBe a good wife for me right now, willya? Walk with me to the bathroom.β
He expected her to poke at him or at least protest that she was or wasnβt a good wife, but she did as he said. That was a bad sign.
Once in the bathroom, Trey began to undress her. She stood and did exactly what he wanted her toβ
βYouβre going to be indecent here?β
βNo, Iβmma put you in the bathtub and get your fever down.β
βOh.β She paused. βFevers kill people, donβt they?β she asked again. βWill it hurt?β
βSugga, if you donβt get in that tub, Iβmma pick you up and put you in myself. Be a good wife and do what I ask.β
She put her foot in and jerked it out with a gasp. βItβs cold,β she whined.
βIt ainβt cold. Itβs warm. Get in.β
She whimpered as she did so, but it took her a nail-biting length of time for her to do it. He helped ease her down into the water, but she clung to his arm, whimpering and resisting.
βIβm not gonna have you dyinβ on me, hear?β
βI want to. Dotβs heaven sounds so nice. But Iβm saved so I know I wonβt go to hell if sheβs wrong. She probably is. Mormons are wrong about everything.β
Treyβs heart was rat-a-tat-tatting. He knew people whoβd been near the end of their ropes and used the last of it to hang themselves. And that shit snowballed. One cat did it, somebody close to him got brave enough to do it, then before you knew it, six folks had dug their own graves. So knowing her mother had β¦
If it were me, I wouldnβt even know how to have hope.
βPlease donβt,β he whispered, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to her hot temple. βPlease. I need you, I do.β
βYou got your speak,β she said dreamily. βYou donβt need me anymore.β
βMarina, are you asleep?β
βI donβt think so. I want to be. I want you to go away so I can.β
βNo, I ainβt goinβ away this time.β
βGo to the speakeasy. She means more to you than I do.β
βThatβs not true. Youβre the only person in this world who understands me, how I think. Youβre the only person I know who likes to read and reads what I like, and can talk to me about it. You know all my secrets because I trust you more than anybody on Earth.β
βYou, you, you. You and what you want.β
Oh, shit, she was right. βYouβre gonna be a mama soon. What about the littleβun?β
βI donβt care,β she sing-songed. βI didnβt want a baby and I hope it dies.β
She was still dangerously hot. βI know you didnβt, and I figured you did, and I know you donβt like kids much at all, but hang on for a little while? Just through the night? I need to fetch something.β
βWhy donβt you tell me what you can give me?β she said archly, but like a drunk. Awake or sleep talking? Did it matter? It was all true.
βHome β¦ β he ventured. βFreedom?β
βOh, yes. The freedom to die.β
βPlease!β he begged. βI am sorryββ
βI know why now,β she said wistfully. βSomething made her happy. So happy. It took her a long time to trust being happy. I know it did because it took me so long to get used to how it felt. And then it was taken away from her. I was so happy when we were courting. I didnβt trust it, but just when I started to let myself be happy, you went away and then all I did was hurt. And be sick. And then β¦ weβve been married for months and youβve been trying to make me happy, and you did, even if you have a hiccup now and againβand the minute I let myself be happy again, you took it away from me.β
βIβm sorry about those things I said! I was jealous andβ I came home to apologize because I knew I was wrong andβ I know you were fibbing about going to Galeβs house. Because you were mad.β
βI said that to see if youβd believe me and you did! βCuz you always thought I was loose,β she slurred. βI was right. I knew I was.β She giggled. Coughed.
βPlease, Marina! Can you not drown yourself while Iβm gone?β
βMmmmmmm,β she hummed as if considering it. βAll right. Just through the night.β
Trey was about to break down, but he was desperate. He riffled through the medicine chest for aspirin and filled a glass with water. βHere, Sugga. Be a good wife and take these.β
She obeyed.
He ran downstairs and got the rest of the ice. It wasnβt making enough fast enough. When he returned, she was lying fully under the water looking very peaceful.
βMarina, Sugga, cβmon,β he pled as he pulled her head up. βYou promised me youβd wait till morning.β
βMmmmmmm, I wasnβt going to yet. It felt good. On my head.β
βYou lean back now, and keep your eyes closed.β He felt her forehead. It was cooler, but it was probably from the water. He dumped all the ice he had into the water.
She screamed and tried to charge up, but he held her down. βBe a good wife. Gooooood wife,β he soothed.
She didnβt want to, but it was so ingrained, she was compelled.
βNo, no. You promised me.β
She whimpered and tried to hug herself to get warm.
He drained some of the water and opened the cold tap.
βTrey!β she screeched and tried to get out again.
βIf you get out now, youβll die.β
βBut I want to!β she cried. βGod will take care of me and love me! Why canβt I have a family like Dotβs?β
βWe can make oneβa those ourselves,β he promised desperately.
βBut I want someone to love and take care of me.β
βI do love you, Marinaββ
βLie. You like what I do for you. You love the speakeasy.β
ββanβ Iβm tryinβa take care of you the only way I know how.β
βBy leaving me alone almost all day and night to go work at that stupid speak you sold me for.β
Oh, God.
βAnd I wasnβt even yours to sell. You decided this. You and Boss Tom. Just βcuz you saw me one day.β
βIβmma take you to Chicago, βmember? Stay a while, have a good time.β
βNo, youβll wanna come back as soon as business is finished. Itβs her. Always her. She gives you what you need. You were right. Everybody was right. You donβt need a woman. You need her. If Iβm not here, youβll be free to be with her again.β
βNo, Marina! The speak doesnβt love meββ
βNeither do I.β
βItβs my prison. Iβm tryinβa break out, yβhear me? I come home to be free with you. I wanna make a family like Albrightβs. With you.β
βItβll be awfully hard to do when I go to God and he takes care of me. Itβs too late for me here. Iβm still a child of God and heβll love me and protect me like Iβm a child, the way Dotβs parents do. Dot can be happy again. She knows how. I wonβt ever be.β
βMorninβ. You promised. Here. I brought you a NuGrape.β
She shook her head and pulled away from him when he put the bottle to her lips. He took a sip, then kissed her, tongue to tongue. βTaste good?β
βMmm hm,β she whimpered, then took the bottle gingerly. It was ice cold.
He kept at it, but for how long he didnβt know. Cold tap. Pleading. Aspirin. Listening. NuGrape. Countering. Repeat.
By the time the west-facing window began to lighten, she was almost asleep. But she was cooling off.
βHey, Sugga,β he murmured, nudging her a little. βAspirin. Pop. Come on, now. Itβs not morning yet.β
She raised her hands for the pills and bottle without opening her eyes or sitting up. In went the aspirin. Down went the pop. All of it.
Then she opened her bloodshot eyes. βItβs sunrise,β she whispered. βI can die now?β
βNot quite yet,β he said quickly. βHow about we get you to bed? Itβs warm there.β She was still shivering, but it wasnβt the desperate shiver of a fever. βMarina, I need to clean up those sores you wonβt stop pickinβ at. Thatβs what your feverβs from.β
βMy sores?β she asked, bewildered.
βYeah, the ones you got when your mama beat you.β Right now, Trey would welcome a beating by someone much larger and stronger than he. βWhen youβre hurtinβ real bad inside or confused or scared, you scratch and pick it till it bleeds and then you scratched all the way around it and got more sores. βMember I keep tellinβ you to take care of it?β
Her hand went to it automatically, but he grabbed it.
βIt itches,β she whined.
βYeah, I know youβre hurtinβ real bad inside,β he soothed, stroking her forehead, making her eyes close. βBut it got infected. Meant to bandage it up in any case, but forgot.β Heβd been too preoccupied. βYou peeled off all the scabs and now they gotta start over again.β
Youβre competing with Dot? Iβm competing with college.
And Marina was competing with 1520.
βI didnβt mean to get it infected,β she apologized.
βI know you didnβt,β he said quickly.
βBut now that I didββ
βNo, no! Just a little while longer. How about a nap first?β
βA dirt nap,β she corrected gravely, then giggled again.
βYeah thatβs funny ha ha. Sugga, listen to me now and think. Where is the apple cider vinegar?β
βPantry. Cold.β
βI know yβare. Just hang on.β He ran downstairs to get it and some cotton dishtowels. She was trying to climb out of the bathtub when he returned. Without a word, he helped her up and out, then sat her down on the toilet and draped a towel over her. βI need you to not fall over while I do this.β She wasnβt going to be able to hold herself up. βGrab the sink there, thereβs a good wife.β He opened the bottle and soaked a towel in vinegar. She wrinkled her nose. βThis is gonna sting, but you feel free to scream all you want.β
She tried to get away even before he touched her, but she was too dizzy to let go of the sink.
βPut your hand on my head. Dig in.β
Treyβs eyes watered with the force of her pulling his hair and his ears rang from her screams when he held the vinegar-soaked cloth over the long, wide-open gash on her arm. She sobbed at the ceiling, one hand in his hair, the other desperately clutching the sink. He repeated this several times, as her howls became less and less intense.
Finally, he threw the towel in the bathtub and waited until her sobs faded to mewls, then hiccups.
βLet me help you to bed so you can take a nap. I know youβre tired.β
βBlanket?β she whispered, exhausted.
βYes. Warm.β
βAll right,β she sighed.
He helped her to bed, turned her on her side, and asked, βCan you give me till noon?β
βI guess,β she slurred.
He found clean sheets, then ripped one into long strips. She whimpered sleepily when he poured more vinegar over the gash, then slipped one of the cotton strips around her arm, keeping a pad of vinegar-soaked cotton in place. He knotted it tightly.
She was asleep by the time he finished, but her breath was shallow and even. Her forehead was damp and cool, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Her fever had broken.
Now he had to keep her from finishing the job herself.
77B
If you donβt want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy itΒ here.
Donations can be madeΒ here, if you so desire.
Ooh, necrophilia! π
(As long as it doesn’t turn into vampire romance, because that’s oh-so original….)
Got to be interesting how he finally gets out of the speak (and the rest), since he can’t plan a damn thing, even if he can react.
I am a firm believer in nothing gets done in a vacuum. Very few people are truly “self-made.” Everyone has help somehow. /cryptic
Deus ex authorina?
Something for RJ’s movie list? Might have to check this one out on Tubi – American Mary by Soska twins was great.
https://twitter.com/twisted_twins/status/1773875254399766693?t=1UfmODjyrcyHn1vSTkrrtA&s=19
So much domestic turbulence, Moj.
Each seem to be seeing things in the other person that aren’t there. Missing the real communication.
Would seem to me that if the cut/gash was so serious and wouldn’t heal that Marina would have seen a doctor. No Obamacare, I know, but for a bottle of whiskey a doctor would have taken a look. I blame Trey.
Thanks, Moj, wait another week on this nail biter.
It’s a safe way for me to get my drama fix. π
My first merry-go-round had enough for a lifetime.
Around around around around around around around around with you…
How much more book is there? I can’t see how many pages remain.
We’ll know when it’s over. It’s the anticipation that keeps us coming back.
504/690, so 25% left.
Young hearts be free tonight!
Time is on your night!
I’m not sure what to make of this part.
A lot of you haven’t read Anathem, I can tell.
Assume I have not read anything.
I’m never going to beat Neal Stephenson for word count.
The proper word count is whatever quantity makes it a good story.
About 20% less than the author thinks it should be?
or 30% longer.
I’ve read Anthem.* Does that count?
*Remember almost nothing about it except that compared to the other Rand options, it was mercifully short.
Anathem is a whole ‘nother ballgame.
I’m pretty sure I’ve never read anything by Neal Stephenson. (Almost got him mixed up with Stephen Donaldson.) If worth a read, where would one best start?
Snow Crash and Diamond Age.
Agreed.
Thanks. Got on the wait list for the Snow Crash ebook at the library.
I started with Cryptonomicon – its a little more ground level and less high-concept than his other stuff.
“Filipinos are a warm, caring people – which is a good thing because so many of them carry concealed weapons.”
I think I read Cryptonomicon after Snow Crash and Diamond Age.
I started with one of his earliest, and shortest, works- “Zodiac” published in 1988. It is set in and around Boston Harbor. It was a fun read.
He did a fun litter thriller with his uncle under a pseudonym that I’ve been meaning to re-read. “Interface”.
I think me too but his “historicals” were not my cup of tea so I lost interest until Anathem, which I like a lot.
First you? I hardly like you!
Screw you guys, I’m going home.
Smell the air around your bitch.
She smells like Firsts because she’s been with a real Firster.
You don’t smell like the gloryhole. You are the gloryhole.
CPRM- I pick up (my) dog (‘s) shit. Being called a cuck, π₯±. Won’t work pal.
Morning all… anyone?
Next time she gets mad, Marine’s gonna say that everything Trey did in this chalter was purely selfish, just done to keep up appearances etc.and of course Trey doesn’t *really* love her.
This is why there are no female libertarians….
Yay! Saturday morning.
βπ
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=GLQ2TIul8pI
On topic? πΆπΆ
https://nypost.com/2024/03/30/us-news/california-couple-alex-and-daisy-de-la-rosa-ordered-to-stop-fixing-compton-potholes/
“Threat to public safety”
Fucking clowns.