Canopy Bed

The Canopy Bed

         Sarah stepped through the door of her room. It was dark and she liked it that way. She liked the way the shadows were cut by the red neon light coming in through the thin curtains on the only window in the room. It wasn't much of a room, just another hole in the wall, but it was her place. For now. Her bed was flopped on the floor in the corner. This time it was just a mattress, but hell...she'd had worse.

         She threw the key and the brown paper bag on the table next to the door. She didn't bother to hit the lights. She was more afraid of the light than the dark. Besides, the clients would be showing up soon and it was easier if she didn't have to look at them.

         In the dim light of the neon sign she peered into the broken mirror above a rusted sink that didn't work and arranged her long blonde hair. It had fallen loose in the wind on her way home. She hated her hair but people always complimented her on it. They said it was her best feature. How polite, she thought, for them to overlook the scar on her cheek. Her green eyes were dark circles in the mirror, staring back at her and into her soul. She looked away and fumbled with the buttons on her thin blouse.

         All of her clothes were this way, thin, bordering on see through. She couldn't afford to leave anything to imagination in case the trick lost interest. She searched for that night's costume in an alcove she lovingly called her wardrobe. Everything was dirty but on her budget she couldn't afford the luxury. She selected a shimmering top that pushed her breasts up making them seem larger than they were and turned toward the bed. She carelessly pulled her clothes off and left them where they landed.

         Reaching for the paper bag she hoped she had enough time to lift off before the first one arrived. She opened it and picked up an old burnt spoon from the table and flopped down on the bed. She laid there wondering how things had gone this far and why she couldn't change it. Maybe she should ask her daddy, or her first boyfriend. Men like them only saw her as a goal line in some primal game.

         "Whatever." She sat up and dumped the bag on the bed and found a lighter on the floor and began to set up the party. If she had to be her, she didn't want to know about it.

         Five minutes later the chemical was cooked and she was tapping the side of the needle wondering how long the high was going to last and where her next one was going to come from. There was a knock on the door. She got up to answer it as it exploded inward. She collapsed to the floor and knew exactly who it was as light poured in from the hall. She turned her head to the floor and wondered what she was going to say this time. She knew she couldn't talk her way out of it and she had to pay up. He closed the door behind him and the light dwindled to a thin line beneath the door as he approached. 

         "Well there you are, Sarah!" His voice was gruff , accusing, and it mocked her very soul. The sound of it was unnerving and reminded her of her fall from grace. "You're late on your payments again, girl. Now what do we do about that, hmm? Last I heard you weren't doing so hot." The last he said with a sneer as he ran his finger down the side of his face.

         "Nobody wants to pay for a cut-up piece of ass, Harley! What do you expect?" The outburst came from nowhere, and she immediately regretted it. He came closer and bent down over her, the smell of his whisky-soured breath washed over her face. He was close enough now that she could see the yellow disease in his eyes.

         "I told you, bitch. There's always a price to pay, even for handouts. Your sad sob story isn't that original you know. I've seen a million little sluts just like you coming down from those high and mighty horses and thinking they are special. I'm sick of it. If you don't make money, you don't get paid!"

         "Harley...no, please!"

         He slapped her and she tasted copper. Whatever, she was used to it. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her to her feet, her hair fell out of its loose braids and she could feel it rolling down her back. She was flying backwards then and hit the wall hard, crumpling onto her bed. To her it was a queen sized canopy bed with white lace and pink pillows. To him it was the table over which he made his best business deals.

***

         He was gone and she was on her back gasping for air. She still had the sheets in her hands, her knuckles were bone white and she stared up at the ceiling. Her chest heaved and her breath was halted and choked. She rolled her head to the side and prayed that she still had something left for the rest of the night. She slowly stood up. She was hurting in places where women should not hurt. She searched for the needle on the floor. "Fuck!" She found the needle. The glass was broken and her elixir of escape was long gone having soaked into the thin green carpet. She cursed again as she stepped to the window and saw his face smiling up at her with that stupid smile on his lips. That knowing smile. She went to her bed but fell to the floor beside it and laid her head down. Her hair cascaded down onto the floor and she considered praying. But she just wept. She wept for herself and everything she hated. She wept until she heard the knock at the door. She turned her tear-stained face to the portal and did her best to stop crying as it swung open and the light poured in again. 

***

         Alan stood next to a patch of ground that was just like any other patch of ground in the cemetery. There was once a bulge in the ground to mark it, and he could have spotted it all the way from the gate. It was just a flat spot of land now, a small bit of real-estate that would never be used, at least not until he was long gone and the box that was buried just six feet beneath the surface that held the few small remains of his six year old boy were processed by the city. No, the only thing identifying this young plot was a concrete cross with the boy's name on it.

         Alan pulled his coat tighter around his big frame and adjusted the badge. His son had loved that badge. Officer 323 were the first words he had learned to read and he had repeated them over and over. When Alan took his shirt off at the end of the night his boy would be there waiting to put it on. It was too big of course and hung off him dragging the ground as he walked but that didn't stop him from 'making the rounds' and calling for backup when the cat became armed and dangerous.  How his wife would laugh! He thought about that laughter now. He started thinking about her as well. Her bright blonde hair; he would twirl it in his fingers when the sun was just right to set it ablaze.

         Footsteps from behind broke his reverie and he turned. A short, fat man in a uniform was approaching, his hat in his hands. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days. He waddled his way up the hill and stopped five feet short when Alan nodded to acknowledge him.  "We got a call sergeant." He looked almost apologetic.

         "It's her."

         "Yeah, it's her. I guess it was pretty bad this time. Look, the chief...:"

         "Thanks, Dan. I'll handle it. Just keep the boss off my back." He rubbed his eyes with his knuckle and hoped the other cop didn't see the streaks of tears that softened his jagged face. He never used to cry. Times change, people change.

         "You look like shit Al...why don't you go get some rest. Christ, you hardly sleep anymore."

         "Who made the call, Dan? Was it Nancy?"

         "Must of been, I guess she seemed pretty scared too. You better do something this time, you're going to be just another bum if you keep this up. You might as well shack up with her if you keep going like this. The chief, Al...he's not happy."

         The guy's words stung him, but he tried not to show it. "The chief's never happy, Dan." A long moment of silence where he just listened to himself breathing passed over like the shadow of some evil bird. "Alright, I'm taking the night off."

         "Yeah, tell me when you take the day on, then I'll be impressed."

         Al's face turned hard as he walked down the hill to the car, he heard Dan laughing behind him. But when he got to the car, he only heard the sound of his wife's laughter, and his son playing with the radio. It was going to be hard this time but he had to end this bullshit. It was going to cost him his job if he didn't, his sanity if he did. He put the car in gear and navigated out of the cemetery.

         Al was a hard man to beat. He used to be one of the best on the force. Smart, cunning, and quick with a gun. He had awards lining his mantle at home that other cops drooled over at every cookout and dinner party he threw. He was loved by the force and had a bright future ahead. He should be a lieutenant by now, maybe more. But instead he was in his mid-forties and was barely above a beat cop. He face looked like early fifties with lines and deep crags forming at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He had developed a bad twitch that he could only control by sucking on a toothpick. The pills and counseling that the city forced on him didn't do much.          

         He turned down the street that led to the bad side of town just before seven, the bloated sun hung low over the horizon and cast a long deep shadow over everything. Doorways were lit with red lights in some places and empty black voids in others. Those doors led to the worst places in this damn town, the bad places where people didn't wake up when they slept. The places where most of the business in this town goes down. That's where he worked. That's where he played. He stopped in front of a run-down factory-turned-housing-unit and killed the engine. Stepping out he looked up at a red neon sign that blinked in a random pattern and poured dark red light on the doorway.  He stepped in and took the elevator to the second floor.

         The door was open as he approached and he braced himself without even knowing it. He turned and stood in the doorway. The place was another dump, just like all the others. There were two girls on the bed. Sarah lay with her head in the other's lap and there was blood on her face. The brunette looked up, her heavy mascara had been running.

         "Hey Al." That was it, that was all she could say. This must seem so normal to her. He was shocked by it on most days, but not so much anymore. Maybe he was becoming used to it too. This wasn't the first scene like this he had walked in on.

         He nodded toward the girl lying down on the bed, she was just lying there staring at the wall across the room. Something hung from her hand, a syringe? "How's she doing, Nancy?"

         "Come in and shut the door man, there's no privacy in this place as it is", Nancy  replied. She pulled some strands of loose hair out the girl's face and looked at him expectantly. He moved aside and shut the dingy door, casting the room back into darkness. He tried the lights but they didn't come on so he just crossed the room and sat down in a chair. He nudged his gun with his elbow; an old ritual he did whenever he got nervous. He pulled out a toothpick and stuck it between his teeth.

         "I heard her screaming and crying from down the hall. It was him again, Al. That bastard, Harley. He must be down on poker chips or something, he's been hitting all the girls pretty hard."

         "You know I can't touch him, Nancy. He's got alibis and all kinds of shit for everything he does. The man's untouchable, believe me, were doing all we can do..."

         "Don't give me that do-gooder cop bullshit Al, you know what he's doing down here. You know what's going on down here. You can do something about it all."

         "Fuck you Nancy. Do your job, let me do mine. If it's so bad down here why do you stay?"

         "The fucking mints on the pillows, dick. You know why I'm here, the question is, why are you here?"

         That shut him up. He was here for that poor girl lying there on the bed as her dignity drained out her like her life blood. They had too much in common, a whore and a cop. He sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Look, get out of here, I need to talk to her"

         Nancy looked scared, her dark eyes narrowed and her voice took on a guarded tone. "What are you going to do, Al?"

         He returned the look with a hard stare that softened as he spoke. "I'm going to get her out of here, Nancy. The only way I know how, now go before I take you in too."

         The girl on the bed didn't seem to notice Nancy sliding out from under her head. She knelt and kissed her and promised to be right outside.  Light shattered the darkness as the brunette opened the door. Nancy paused before leaving the small room, "She gonna be alright, Al?"  He just stared at the girl on the bed, his face might have been cast from iron. Tears ran down Nancy's face again as she left and closed the door behind her.

         He slipped across the room then and took the girl in his arms, holding her like she was a child, though she was only five years younger than him. He tried to imagine life as she saw it. Her bastard husband had left when she got a sickness that left her barren. She wasn't good for anything if she couldn't do that, he had said. She had tried to live up to societies standards, but found it to be a cold dead place. Her spiral wasn't unusual, maybe even cliché. She started on painkillers and just kept going past the easy shit, onto the harder stuff, and eventually got here to this hellhole. She was just trying to forget, or trying to die, sometimes the two were the same.

         He sat there for awhile and watched her naked breast rising and falling. He traced the hard scar running down the side of her face. She was so beautiful. Nothing the world could do would diminish it, nothing she could do would hide it.

         "Al?"

         "Yeah, I'm here. How are you doing?"

         "I'm cold, Al."          

         "That's because you don't have any blankets." Al took his coat off and laid it across her body." There, that should do for now"

         "Thanks. Why are you here, Al?"

         Al never really enjoyed being the hero, he certainly wasn't the hero type, but this girl got to him. She was a guilty pleasure, a sort of pet. He felt obligated to her somehow. Damn that she looked so much like his wife. "Nancy called us. They sent me down here to pick you up."

         "No they didn't. They don't care about us, they don't care about any of this. You don't even have a uniform with you. I can tell by the sound your car made." She spoke with an even tone and kept staring at the wall.

         For a moment they said nothing, he just watched the light blink on and off in the window. "Why do we keep doing this Al?"

         "I ask myself that every day. But this is the last time I'm coming down here, I tell you that. I've got better things to do."

         "You've been saying that for two years now, and here you are. But I don't mean that this time. Why do we keep on living like this. You know what tomorrow will be like for me? A lot like today was, maybe worse, maybe a little better, but it will be the same, you know."

         "C'mon now, you could do better if you wanted to."

         "Even if I did, and I was a rich, happy woman, the next day would be the same. I would be trapped here in this life, in this body, on this earth. There will always be something left wanted, Al. I'm tired of living like this. Each day brings more ugliness."

         "It's not all bad Sarah." He was having a hard time consoling her. He didn't believe it was ever going to get better than this, no matter how good they had it. He knew the girl wanted out the easy way, but he wouldn't let her go out that way. If he couldn't get out, neither could she. "Look, we have to keep going, baby. You and me. People like us are the grit of the world. We have to face it like this so that those posh bastards who have never known pain can keep on living in their bubbles."

         "I want to live in a bubble too." She began to sob and lifted the thing in her hand, he saw it clearly now, it was indeed a syringe, but broken. He checked her arms and they were riddled with dark veins and holes. He cursed and took the syringe, sniffing it and inspecting it.

         "What is this, huh? Is this what they're pushing on you nowadays?"

         "It makes me happy Al! It's my bubble. We all have bubbles, this one is mine. She rolled over, tears streaked down her pale face, she was sweating and shaking, in spite of the cold. She looked worse than him by far.

         "We have to get you some help, darling. You're going to die down here."

         "So let me, at least it will end."

         "I won't let that happen."

         "You don't get to decide that. Who do you think you are anyways? You're not my father, or my pimp, or my boss you're just another trick that comes here for free! Free! If you would pay me, maybe I wouldn't be here. You know Nancy gets to go to the nice places because she gets paid. I'm cut, where were you then? Some knight in shining armor you are." He let her rage on, she needed it, and maybe he needed to hear it, she eventually broke down into sobs. She laid there like that for a long time, curled up in his arms, covered in his jacket. She eventually fell asleep. He watched the red light blink on and off some more. He did want to save her, he wanted to take her out of here and give her that good life, free of this shit-hole and he wanted to do it right. But he was kidding himself, he knew that she would just be a poor attempt to replace the wife that ran out on him after his son was killed. Her size, her hair, her eyes, they were all so close to his wife's that they could have been sisters. But their lives weren't alike at all. The last he had heard, his wife was shacking up with some casino owner and had totally forgotten about the night their son came downstairs at the wrong time. Just one freak chance that the bullet would ricochet at just the right angle. The cost of being a cop that put psychos away was high. His mind continued to wander, play the 'what-ifs' until the light shorted out and he fell asleep as well, slumped over on the bed, holding his beautiful blonde queen.

***

         Harley had taken over the foreman's office after the place was renovated and turned it into the fine establishment that it was today. In it there was a table and a little kitchen that had enough space for a case of beer and a few frozen pizzas in the fridge. The sink worked when it wanted to, which was never but the beer stayed cold. It was sparsely furnished with a couch, a coffee table, and a old stand that leaned under the weight of the television.

         The Riverside Hotel was the best kept secret that was known by everyone that side of the river. Harley always thought the best place to hide was right there in plain sight. Everyone praised him when he fronted the money to convert a dilapidated factory into a housing unit in the slums of this otherwise fine city. But now it wasn't much better than the factory it replaced.

         Now Nancy was here, she had a hand on her hip and the other upturned like she was holding a tray. And she was ruining a good buzz. From her black corset to her ripped mesh stockings, she was every bit the whore he wanted her to be. And like any good whore, she was bringing him news from the streets again. He could always count on her, his little Nancy. He took a drag off his thick cigar and let the smoke fill the air before washing it down with his beer. "Tell me how it went again, and don't leave nothing out this time." His vision swayed as she slumped down on the couch and began to adjust the laces on her boots.

         "I don't know why he came down, Harley. Maybe he just wanted a free quickie. He came in, sat down and started talking about how he was going to save her, how he was going to get her out of here, like he was a goddamn saint." She stopped there and looked nervously around. "Do you think he has his cop friends somewhere out there?"

         Harley dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Shit no, he came here alone. He came for her. He and I go way back, you know. Yeah, we're old pals. I Never had a problem with the guy before. He would take the bribes just like all the others did. Their badges aren't so shiny when compared to green, you know." He stopped to take another drag off his cigar. Smoke rings formed from between fat, discolored lips. "Yeah, then something changed. He started to come down more and more and causing trouble, asking questions. Then he stopped taking the hush-money. Just stopped, just like that. Guess he thought he didn't need it anymore, maybe he was too good for it. And when that slut Sarah came to town, he took a liking to her, oh yeah he did. Even after I cut the bitch because she thought she was better than me, he still wanted her. Now you tell me that he's coming here to take her in, huh? Why, cuz I roughed her up some? Bullshit. He has to have another reason. This ain't the way cops operate." His eyes were cold and hard, like he was looking at something that deserved to be dead but hadn't gotten the message yet.

         Nancy saw her chance. "You're not going to let him have her, are you Harley? Think about the money she brings in." She sure could look concerned when she wanted to. "Maybe you shouldn't have done that to her, anyways."

         Harley's face turned molten red and he threw the bottle across the room, shattering it against the wall. "What? Let him have her? From what you're saying he's been coming down here, getting free shit for years now. Do you know how long it took me to build this shit? All the little systems, the contacts in the cops, the judges I had to bribe, hmm? Do ya? Hell no you don't. This strip of street here, no longer than a couple of miles is mine! I own this street and what goes on down here is mine." His hands animated his story, his huge bulk swayed and his bulbous gut jiggled as if it too was trying to protest the girl's words. I've seen blue-collars, white-collars, judges, politicians and even fancy-ass celebrities walk down these streets. Six long years, Nancy. For Six long years I've been working this city." He stepped to the window and looked down onto the street. It was getting lighter out. He could see the sick dull glow of the sun peaking over the smog choked cityscape. He had to move quick. "I won't let a crooked-cop-turn-good just walk off with what's mine."

         He kept a gun by the door just in case. He walked over and pulled the Desert Eagle from its shoulder holster. He always felt better with it in his hand. He flung the door open with a grunt and let it crack against the wall.

         Nancy rushed after him, her boots loud on the tiled floor. "Harley...Harley..what are you gonna do baby?"

         "Gonna end this fuck's crusade right now. I don't need this shit in my house." Go and get the car, bring it around in front of the house."

         "Baby maybe you shouldn't..."

         "Get the fucking car!"

         Harley paused long enough to make sure there were bullets in the gun while Nancy dashed down the steps to get the car.

***

         Al woke to the sound of a woman screaming, the door suddenly burst in and a tall fat pig of a man leered at him and leveled a gun at him, the stench of whisky and cheap stale cigars filled the grey morning air. The sound of the gun slammed against the wall and he went deaf. The room was small and he was being weighed down by something, he couldn't move to get out of the way. He reached across his chest and pulled his firearm, squeezing off three rounds as he was trained, chest, chest, head for good measure. The drunk bastard fell without a word into a pile of flab and blood.

         Al squeezed off another round into the corpse and it jiggled like bloody gelatin. He looked around, wondering what had just happened and saw her there lying on him; a large hole in her chest where her heart should be. He checked her pulse, nothing. He thought CPR, but the man's hand-cannon would have destroyed her heart. And judging by the blood already pooling on the bed, there was an even bigger hole out the back. She must have sat up at some point and took the shot that was meant for him. Damn him for sleeping! He cradled her head in his hands, kissed her forehead and slipped out from underneath her. He keyed the radio and called for backup. He flipped the guy's body over with his shoe. Damn, it was Harley, there would be hell to pay. He sat down in the chair and pondered the angles and chances of the bullets. He should be dead. He pondered the girl. She had gotten what she wanted, and he envied her death. How sweet that black nothingness must be. He heard sirens and went to the door. He glanced back at the room, at his beautiful blonde queen. Lucky, he thought, as he turned and left to go meet the officers.