A Dirty Job Chapter 8

8A STREETCAR NAMED CONFUSIONInto the breech of the Castro district Charlie Asher supercharged, an antique sword- washbasine from the store on the van seat beside him, his jaw set like a bay singlet, his visage a study in fearsome intensity. Half a block, fractional a block, half of a block onward into the V whollyey of Overpriced Juice Bars and Outlandish Hair Highlights rode the stainless important Male. And woe be unto the foolish neer-do-well who had d ard to fuck with this secondhand death dealer, for his raggedy life would be fast for the bargain table. Theres going to be a show follow out in Gay Town, Charlie thought, and I am gunning for adeptice.Well, non re solelyy gunning since he had a sword concealed in a walking stick, non a gun more of a poking for justice which didnt re everyy constitute the avenging angel intension he was looking for he was mad, and ready to kick ass, thats on the whole. So, you k like a shot, just watch out. (Coinciden ganglingy, Pok ing for Justice was the title currently second in popularity at Castro Video Rentals, closely edging out A brain Is Born The Directors Cut, and outranked only by Cops Without Pants, which was number mavin with a bullwhip.)Charlie turned remove market place highway and just around the corner on Noe Street he saw it wise to(p) Music, the sign through with(p) in blocky, Craftsman-style stained glass, and he felt the hair at the back of his neck bristle and an goad in his bladder. His body had gone into fight-or-flight mode, and for the second metre in a week, he was going against his Beta Male nature and choosing to fight. Well, so be it, he thought. So be it. He would confront his mystifier and lay him low, as soon as he found a parking place which he didnt.He circled the block, bowdlerizeting between cafs and bars, both of which were in abundance in the Castro. He drove up and down the side pathways, lined with rows of immaculately kept (exorbitantly priced) Victorians and found no quarter for his trusty steed. after a half hour of orbiting the neighborhood, he headed back uptown and found a spot in a parking garage in the Fillmore, and so took the antique streetcar back down Market Street to the Castro. A cute lightentle green, Italian-made antique streetcar, with oak benches, brass railings, and mahogany window frames a charming brass bell and a top speed of close to twenty miles per hour this is how Charlie Asher charged into battle. He tried to imagine a horde of Huns hanging off the sides, waving wicked blades and fervour arrows as they passed the murals in the Mission district, perhaps Viking raiders, shields fastened to the sides of the car, a great drum pounding as they rowed in to pillage the antique shops, the leather bars, the sushi bars, the leather sushi bars (dont ask), and the art g totallyeries, in the Castro. And here, charge Charlies redoubtable imagination failed him. He got off the car at Castro and Market and walked bac k a block to fresh Music, thusly pa apply outside the shop, wondering what in the hell he was going to do now.What if the caller had just borrowed the phone? What if he stormed in screaming and threatening, and in that respect was just some conf utilise kid can the counter? But then he looked in the door, and there, rest behind the counter, all alone, was an extraordinarily stately black man dressed completely in mint green, and at that point Charlie lost his mind.You killed her, Charlie screamed as he stormed by the racks of CDs toward the man in mint. He drew the sword as he ran, or tried to, hoping to bring it out in a star fluid movement from the cane example and across the throat of Rachels killer. But the sword-cane had been in the back of Charlies shop for a long metre, and except for troika quantify when Lilys friend Abby tried to leave with it (once essay to buy it, when Charlie refused to sell it to her, then twice assay to steal it), the sword hadnt been dra wn in geezerhood. The little brass stud that you pushed to release the blade had stuck, so when Charlie delivered the deathblow, he swung the entire cane, which was heavier and slower than the sword would have been. The man in mint green cursorily for his size ducked, and Charlie took out an entire row of Judy Garland CDs, lost his balance, bounced off the counter, spun around, and again tried for the single draw-and-cut move that he had seen so many times in samurai movies, and had practiced so many times in his head on the way here. This time the sword came free of the scabbard and slashed a foul arch three feet in front of the man in mint, completely decapitating a life-sized cutout of Barbra Streisand.That is un-unfucking called for thundered the steep man.As Charlie recovered his balance for a backhand slash, he saw something large and dark sexual climax down over him and recognized it at the last instant, as the antique cash register slammed down on his head. There wa s a flash, a ding, and eitherthing got dark and gooey.When Charlie came to, he was tied to a chair in the back room of the script store, which looked remarkably like the back room of his own store, except all the stacked boxes were full of records and CDs instead of all variety of used jetsam. The tall black man was standing over him, and Charlie thought at first that he might be turning to mist or smoke, scarce then he realized it was just that his vision was going wavy, and then pain lit up the inside of his head like a strobe light.Ouch.Hows your neck? asked the tall man. Does your neck feel broken? Can you feel your feet?Go ahead, kill me, you fucking coward, express Charlie, bucking around in the chair, exhausting to lunge at his captor and aspect a little like the Black Knight in Monty Pythons Holy Grail after his arms and legs had been hacked off. If this guy cable took one step closer, Charlie could head-butt him in the nads, he was sure enough of it.The tall man st omped on Charlies toes, a size-eighteen glove-leather loafer driven by two hundred and lxx pounds of death and used-record dealer.Ouch Charlie hopped his chair in a little circle of pain. Goddammit OuchSo you do have feeling in your feet?Get it over with. Go ahead. Charlie stretched his neck as if offering his throat to be cut his strategy was to lure his captor into range, then sever the tall mans femoral artery with his teeth, then vaunt as the blood coursed all over his mint-green slacks onto the floor. Charlie would laugh long and sinister as he watched the life drain out of the evil bastard, then he would hop his chair out to the street and onto the streetcar at Market, transfer to the number forty-one tidy sum at Van Ness, hop off at Columbus, and hop the two blocks home, where soul would untie him. He had a plan and a bus pass with four more days left on it so this son of a squawk had picked the wrong guy to fuck with.I have no intention of killing you, Charlie, say the tall man, keeping a safe distance. Im sorry I had to hit you with the register. You didnt really leave me any options.You could have tasted the fatal sting of my blade Charlie glanced around for his sword-cane, just in case the guy had left it within reach.Yeah, sure, there was that one, but I thought Id go with the one without the stains and the funeral.Charlie strained against his bonds, which he realized now were plastic shopping bags. Youre messing with expiry, you turn in? I am Death.Yeah, I know.You do?Sure. The tall man spun some other wooden chair around and sit down on it reversed, facing Charlie. His knees were up at the level of his elbows and he looked like a great green tree frog, crouched to pounce on an insect. Charlie noniced for the first time that he had golden eyes, stark and striking in contrast to his dark skin. So am I, say the evil mint-green frog guy.You? Youre Death?A Death, not THE Death. I dont sound off there is a THE Death. not anymore, anywa y.Charlie couldnt grasp it, so he struggled and wobbled until the tall man had to reach out and steady him to keep him from toppling over.You killed Rachel.I did not.I saw you there.Yes, you did. Thats a problem. Will you please stop thrashing around? He agitate Charlies chair. But I wasnt instrumental in Rachels death. Thats not what we do, not anymore, anyway. Didnt you even look at the bear?What nurse? You state something to the highest degree a book on the phone.The considerable Big Book of Death. I sent it to your shop. I told a woman at the counter that I was sending it, and I got oral communication confirmation, so I know it got there.What woman Lily? Shes not a woman, shes a kid.No, this was a woman about your age, with New Wave hair.Jane? No. She didnt say anything, and I didnt stay put any book.Oh, shit. That explains why theyve been showing up. You didnt even know.Who? What? They?Mint putting green Death sighed heavily. I guess were going to be here a firearm. Im going to rat some coffee. Do you deficiency some?Sure, try to lull me into a false sense of security measure, then spring.Youre tied the fuck up, motherfucker, I dont need to lull you into shit. Youve been fucking with the fabric of human existence and soul needed to shut your ass down.Oh, sure, go black on me. Play the ethnic card.Mint Green climbed to his feet and headed toward the door to the shop. You want cream?And two sugars, please, Charlie express.This is really cool, why are you giving it back? said Abby Normal. Abby was Lilys best friend, and they were sitting on the floor in the back room of Ashers Secondhand, looking through The Great Big Book of Death. Abbys real mark was Alison, but she would no longer tolerate the ignominy of what she called her daylight-slave name. E genuinelyone had been oft more responsive to calling her by her chosen name than they had been to Lilys, Darquewillow Elventhing, which you always had to spell for people.Turns out its Asher, not me, Lily said. Hell be really pissed if he finds out I took it. And hes Death now, I guess, so I could get in trouble.Are you going to tell him you had the book? Abby scratched the silver spider stud in her eyebrow it was a fresh piercing and still healing and she couldnt stop messing with it. Abby, like Lily, was dressed all in black, boots to hair, the difference being that she had a black-widows red hourglass on the front of her black T-shirt and she was bladed and more waiflike in her affected creepiness.No. Ill just say it got misfiled. That happens a lot here.How long did you deliberate it was you?Like a month.What about the dreams and the names and stuff it dress downs about, you didnt have any of that, proficient?I thought I was just growing into my powers. I made a lot of lists of people I wanted gone.Yeah, I do that. And you just found out yesterday that it was Asher?Yeah, said Lily.That sucks, said Abby. lifetime sucks, said Lily.So, what now? asked Abby. Junior coll ege?They both nodded, woefully, and looked into the depths of their respective nail polishes to avoid sharing the humiliation of one of them having gone from dark demigod to local loser in an instant. They lived their lives hoping for something grand and dark and supernatural to happen, so when it had, they took it more in stride than was probably healthy. Fear, after all, is a survival mechanism.So all these things are soul objects? asked Abby, as cheerfully as her integrity would allow. She waved to the piles of stuff Charlie had marked with Do not Sell signs. Theres like a persons soul in there?According to the book, said Lily. Asher says he can see them glow.I like the red Converse on the whole Stars.Take them, theyre yours, said Lily.Really?Yeah, Lily said. She took the All Stars off the shelf and held them out. Hell neer miss them.Cool. I have the perfect pair of red fishnets I can wear with them.They probably have the soul of some sweaty jock in them, Lily said.He whitethor n worship at my feet, said Abby, doing a pirouette and an arabesque (remnants, along with an eating disorder, of ten years of concert dance lessons).So Im like a Santas Helper of Death? Charlie said, waving his coffee cup. The tall man had untied his one arm so he could drink his coffee, and Charlie was baptizing the stockroom floor with French roast with every gesture. Mr. snappy frowned.What in the hell are you talking about, Asher? sweet-scented felt bad about smash Charlie Asher with a cash register and fasten him up, and now he was wondering if the blow hadnt caused some anatomy of brain damage. Im talking about the Santa at Macys, zippy. When youre a kid, and you notice that the Santa Claus at Macys has a fake beard, and that there are at least(prenominal) six Salvation Army Santas working Union Square, you ask your parents about it and they tell you that the real Santa is in the North Pole, and hes really busy, so all these other guys are Santas helpers, who are out h elping him with his work. Thats what youre saying, that were Santas helpers to Death?Mr. wise(p) had been standing by his desk, but now he sat down again across from Charlie so he could look him in the eye. Very softly he said, Charlie, you know that thats not true now, estimable? I mean about Santas helpers and all?Of course I know that theres no Santa Claus. Im using it as a metaphor, you tool.Mr. Fresh took this opportunity to reach out and shot Charlie upside the head. therefore immediately regretted it.Hey Charlie put down his cup and rubbed one of his receding-hairline inlets, which was going red from the blow.Rude, said Mr. Fresh. Lets not be rude.So youre saying that there is a Santa? Charlie said, cringing in anticipation of other smack. Oh my God, how deep does this conspiracy go?No, theres no goddamn Santa. Im just saying that I dont know what we are. I dont know if there is a big Death with a capital D, although the book hints that there used to be. Im just saying t hat there are many of us, a dozen that I know of right here in the city all of us picking up soul vessels and seeing that they get into the right hands.And thats based on someone randomly coming into your shop and buying a record? Then Charlies eyes went wide as it hit him. Rachels Sarah McLachlan CD. You took it?Yes. Fresh looked at the floor, not because he was ashamed, but to avoid seeing the pain in Charlie Ashers eyes.Where is it? I want to see it, said Charlie.I exchange it.To who? Find it. I want Rachel back.I dont know. To a woman. I didnt get her name, but Im sure it was meant for her. Youll be able to tell.I will? Why will I? he asked. Why me? I dont want to kill people.We dont kill people, Mr. Asher. Thats a misconception. We simply facilitate the ascendance of the soul.Well, one guy died because I said something to him, and another had a heart attack because of something I did. A death that results from your actions is basically killing someone, unless youre a politici an, right? So why me? Im not that highly skilled at bullshit. So why me?Mr. Fresh considered what Charlie was saying, and felt like something sinister had crawled up his spine. In all his years, he didnt remember ever having his actions at present result in someones death, nor had he heard of it happening with the other Death Merchants. Of course you occasionally showed up at the time when the person was passing, but not often, and never as a cause.Well? Charlie said.Mr. Fresh shrugged. Because you saw me. Surely youve noticed that no one sees you when youre out to get a soul vessel.Ive never gone out to get a soul vessel.Yes, you have, and you will, at least you should be. You need to get with the program, Mr. Asher.Yeah, so you said. So youre uh were invisible when were out getting these soul vessels?Not invisible, so to speak, its just that no one sees us. You can go right into peoples homes and theyll never notice you standing right beside them, but if you speak to someone on the street theyll see you, waitresses will take your order, cabs will stop for you well, not me, Im black, but, you know, they would. Its sort of a will thing, I conceive. Ive tested it. Animals can see us, by the way. Youll want to watch out for dogs when youre retrieving a vessel.So thats how you got to be a what do they call us?Death Merchants.Get out. Really?Its not in the book. I came up with it.Its very cool.Thanks. Mr. Fresh smiled, relieved for a moment not to be thinking about the gravity of Charlies unique transition to Death Merchant. Actually, I think its a component from an album cover, guy behind a cash register, eyes glowing red, but I didnt know that when I came up with it.Well, it chooses perfect sense.Yeah, I thought so, said Mr. Fresh. More coffee?Please. Charlie held out his free cup. So, someone saw you. Thats how you became a Death Merchant?No, thats how you became one. I think that you may, uh Fresh didnt want to corrupt this poor guy, but on the oth er hand he didnt actually know what had happened. I think you may be different from the rest of us. No one saw me. I was working security for a casino in Vegas when that went sour for me I have a problem with authority, Im told so I came to San Francisco and opened this shop, started dealing in used records and CDs, mostly jazz at first. After a while it just started happening the glowing soul vessels, people coming in with them, finding them at estate of the realm sales. I dont know why or how, it just did, and I didnt say anything about it to anyone. Then the book came in the mail.The book again. Dont you have a copy around?Theres only one copy. At least that I know of.And you just mailed it out?I sent it certified mail Fresh boomed. Someone at your store signed for it. I think I did my part.Okay, sorry, go on.Anyway, when I got to the Castro it was a very sad place. The only guys you saw on the street were very old or very young, all the ones in the middle were either dead or sick with HIV, walking with canes, towing oxygen cylinders. Death was everywhere. Its like there needed to be a soul way station, and I was here, trading records. Then the book showed up in the mail. There were a lot of souls coming in. For those first few years I was picking up vessels every day, sometimes two or three times a day. Youd be surprised how many gay men have their souls in their music.Have you sold them all?No. They come in, they go out. Theres always some inventory.But how can you be sure the right person gets the right soul?Not my problem, is it? Mr. Fresh shrugged. Hed worried about it at first, but it seemed to all happen as it should, and hed gotten into the rhythm of trusting whatever mechanism or power was behind all of this.Well, if thats your attitude, why do it at all? I dont want this job. I have a job, and a kid.You have to do it. Believe me, after I got the book, I tried not doing it. We all did. At least the ones Ive talked to did. Im guessing youve alrea dy seen what happens if you dont. Youll start hearing the voices, then the shades start coming. The book calls them Underworlders.The hulk ravens? Them?They were just indistinct shadows and voices until you showed up. Theres something going on. Starting with you, and continuing with you. You let them get a soul vessel, didnt you?Me? You said theres a bunch of Death Merchants.The others know better. It was you. You fucked up. I thought I saw one fast(a) over earlier in the week. Then today, I was out walking, and the voices were bad. Really bad. Thats when I called you. It was you, wasnt it?Charlie nodded. I didnt know. How could I know?So they got one?Two, Charlie said. A hand came out of the sewer. It was my first day.Well, thats it, said Fresh, cradling his head in his hands. We are most certainly fucked now.You dont know that, Charlie said, trying to look on the bright side. We could have been fucked before. I mean, we run secondhand stores for dead people, thats sort of a defi nition of fucked.Mr. Fresh looked up. The book says if we dont do our jobs everything could go dark, become like the Underworld. I dont know what the Underworld is like, Mr. Asher, but Ive caught some of the road show from there a couple of times, and Im not interested in finding out. How bout you?Maybe its Oakland, Charlie said.Whats Oakland?The Underworld.Oakland is not the Underworld Mr. Fresh leapt to his feet he was not a violent man, you really didnt have to be when you were his size, but The Tenderloin? Charlie suggested.Dont make me smack you. Neither of us wants that, do we, Mr. Asher?Charlie shook his head. Ive seen the ravens, Charlie said, but I havent heard any voices. What voices?They talk to you when youre on the street. Sometimes youll hear a voice coming out of a heating vent, a downspout, sometimes a storm drain. Its them, all right. Female voices, taunting. Ive gone years without hearing them, Ill almost forget, then Ill be going to pick up a vessel, and one will call to me. I used to phone the other merchants, ask them if theyd done something, but we stopped that right away.Why?Because thats part of what we think brings them up. Were not supposed to have any contact. It took us a while to figure that out. I had only found six of the merchants in the city back then, and we were having lunch once a week, talking about what we knew, comparing notes thats when we saw the first of the shades. In fact, just to be safe, this will be the last time that you and I have contact. Mr. Fresh shrugged again and began to untie Charlies bonds, thinking It all changed that day at the hospital. This guy has changed everything, and Im sending him out like a lamb to the slaughter or maybe hes the one to do the slaughtering. This guy might be the one Wait, I dont know anything, Charlie pleaded. You cant just send me out to do this without more background. What about my daughter? How do I know who to sell the souls to? He was panicked and trying to ask all the questions before he was set free. What are the numbers after the names? Do you get the names like that? How long do I have to do this before I can retire. Why are you always dressed in mint green? As Mr. Fresh untied one ankle, Charlie was trying to tie the other back to the chair.My name, said Mr. Fresh.Pardon? Charlie stopped tying himself up.I dress in mint green because of my first name. Its Minty.Charlie completely forgot what he was worried about. Minty? Your name is Minty Fresh?Charlie appeared to be trying to stifle a sneeze, but then snorted an explosive laugh. Then ducked.