Rush
A Short Story by Tom Stuckey
ABOUT THE WRITER
Tom is a poet from Devon in the UK and has been published in Punk Noir, Bristol Noir and A Thin Slice of Anxiety. His newest books is a collection of short stories and poems entitled “The Sun Marches Upon Us All” is available now for you to download.
I
Harold didn’t like it when Anthony came into the saloon, and started riling up everybody, especially when he had hit upon gold. As soon as his face cleared the swinging doors, Harold spotted Anthony’s grin, from one end of his moustache, to the other.
“Howeee, god-damn, will you look at that fellas, would you look at that, that’s a beautiful sight!” He held up a nugget of gold as big as a cherry. Anthony was the type of man who didn’t like to see anyone else do well; like most men, he just didn’t hide it and therefore was not liked.
“Well no need for a congratulations fellas, a well done, way to go An-thon-y” He said sarcastically.
Harold’s Saloon And Parlor, that we all called The Crack, maybe because it was like a crack in the floor of society, that you fell into, or maybe because of the women you found here. There were all sorts of men that came into The Crack: liberals—who would do good with their strikes, conservatives who were in it for the boom of business, philosophers, idiots, the well to do, and the damn right low down, but we all had one thing in common -GOLD- and The Crack was the melting pot where every prospector came, weather they had hit it big, or were on their ass.
It was spring and the snow was beginning to melt and wash down into the rivers, churning up new banks and prospects. Light had started to return and with it colour, almost too bright after a long winter with none. The winters here were an x-ray like white and black for months on end, so when spring came you noticed. Women’s cheeks began to rouge whilst men’s beards started to get a little lighter on the ends. People began to wake up and notice each other again, notice the legs and breasts and smells of perfume and cologne, and the flowers began to bloom again.
Gold made everything a public affair, it was hard to keep anything secret, and harder still to believe what anyone said. The lies of men were born in this room, and they got more creative each year. Last year Glen an old timer, had told everyone that he had got the cancer, that he could no longer go on, that he would not be at his usual spot this year, he had to put his family’s wishes first, they did not want him up there not knowing of his health. He was secretly up at a new spot, just west of his closest friend Abe, hiding out all summer. When he finally came back, he had not struck, there was no ill will, people knew the business, they knew it was all part of it. I’ve heard stories told by some of the older folks that are still left, that times were more honest “once upon a time”, but I doubt it.
The minister came in everyday at the same time- it was nine p.m. He knew this was where he was needed most, so after his daily services, with the right and the just, he came here with his hope, that we had all stopped living on the judgement of how the other guy was doing. I think he just enjoyed it.
“Hello Father,” I said as he took a seat next to me. “Come to see who the winners are today at the start of the season?”
“Yes, I see Anthony is looking very proud, and that Harold does not look so happy.”
“Yeah, he really knows how to ruin that man’s day,” I said as Anthony took a chair at our table. “don’t you Tony, I was just telling Father that you are the perfect thorn in Harold’s eye.”
“I don’t know what his problem is, I mean, damn, how can someone be so sore, over something so pretty as this,” He held the nugget up under the hanging lamp and it bounced yellow light all around the table. “It looks like a face, don’t you think Father,” Holding it up to his nose. “it’s baby Jesus! I knew he would send me a sign, that he loves me.”
“You know Anthony, it is in bad taste to mock me…”
“What do you think Lisa,” He turned and put the gold under the arm of Lisa and onto her cleavage. “tonight a part of this gold is going to be inside that tight snatch of yours.”
She spun around and her eyes zoned in like a cat who had spotted a mouse.
“For that Tony, you could put your pecker in me for the whole of summer, it could live there.”
“Hear that father, my pecker can live inside Lisa.”
“You know Anthony,” He had learnt how to not blush, but it was learnt and not natural. “why don’t you pay the rent of the church for summer instead?”
“Because Father,” Tony reached inside Lisa’s dress and took out her breast. “You do not have these at church.” Pointing to Lisa’s breast which smelled of perfume and was perfectly round and firm.
“Ok Anthony, you are some God tonight, enjoy it, the church will always accept you when you have had enough.” A little bead of sweat started to form on his forehead.
“Ok Father, but there is two of these,” Tony took out the other breast, and untied the front of Lisa’s dress. “Look at them, damn, they’re like islands in a milky sea.”
Harold came over, a big man who moved slow and had a back, neck and head that were all one.
“Tony, if you are going to act the big shot, you have to pay the house first,” He looked disapprovingly at Lisa with his balled face, whilst speaking to Tony. “You know the rules.”
“Ah Harold, I think I want to pay the rent on Lisa’s snatch for the whole of summer, will this be enough.” He held the nugget up under Harold’s chin.
“What do you think Father, does he have a soul, or just a loud mouth and a small cock?”
“What did you say to me?” Tony’s smile instantly disappearing.
“I said you have no soul, that gold doesn’t make your cock grow, and that Lisa’s snatch is not for sale to the likes of you.” He turned and began to walk back behind the bar.
Tony stood to follow him and jumped on his back, “What did you say to me, you whore!”
Harold, without much effort, tossed Tony across the room and onto a table, falling and laying on his back, the gold nugget rolling across the wooden floor.
“You sonofabitch, I’ll kill you for that, where’s my gold,” he located it and scurried across the floor and snaffled it up. “You wait, you fat fuck, you wait.” He stood up and dusted himself off and walked out the bar, the doors swinging as he disappeared into the night of horses trotting through the mud.
II
Lisa liked to paint, and the following day she invited me around to sit for her, she had just once before this occasion. She seemed to find me to be more agreeable than the others at the saloon. Lisa was quite shy really, but she put on an act, like we all do when in a crowd. I could not make out from behind the canvas what her painting looked like, but she studied me with intent. Her brown eyes just over the corner of the canvas, with a little strand of hair down her cheek. I did not have to pay to be with Lisa, she loved me for free. We were the only two lost souls in the town who seemed to match up, and be happy in each other’s company.
“You know John, you have the expression of a mad man,” she smiled a little, “or that of a man who has been holding the madness back a long time.”
“What is it that gave me away?” I asked.
“Well, the eyes firstly, they are deep blue and dark, but with a little sparkle, as if a shell is catching the light of the sun on the sea bed. Also you twitch the corner of your mouth, and your mustache moves with it. But mostly I can just tell that you are not like the others, and that the true you is somewhere else.”
“How do you know that I am not just pretending to know some truth, so that I can sleep with you for free?”
“Because, when we make love, I can tell, I can always tell what a man thinks and feels by the way he does it.”
“It is quite the skill; you are wasted in the profession.”
“Nothing is wasted, nothing is gained by being more righteous, or noble.”
“There is truth in you also it seems, but you hide it too.” I enjoyed these conversations, even though they made me a bit melancholy.
“You are right, ok done, a little madness makes for a good painting.”
She moved slowly and methodically, which always impressed me, how she could concentrate, be precise, all at the same time. I struggled to sit still, and when I did, murderous anger rose in me. I once threw a chair across the room when I couldn’t write the word I wanted too in a journal. I once fought a man, for a disapproving look he gave, and she was as delicate as a butterfly in a breeze, even when she was manhandled, come on or in, hair pulled, arse slapped, breathed on by men who did not clean themselves; but none of that was in this room, it was all in the act she played when she walked through the saloon doors at nine p.m.
“There,” She turned the painting around. “what do you think.”
“I like it, you are right, I can see the madness now.”
“Good, I’m glad, it means that I did my job well.”
The clock struck 9, and her face began to change. She undressed out of her clothes and walked naked and bare foot across the stone floor, leaving little foot prints briefly where she had walked. She picked out another dress, and began to shuffle her hips into it, and move it up just over her nipples, it pushed her breasts up so that it created a cleavage.
“There, time to go and be a whore.”
III
I arrived at the saloon little after Lisa. I don’t know why I did it each night, this, something in me liked it, something did not. It was the same each night at the saloon, only on Sundays there was a pause for church, but after it was just as wild, if not wilder. Harold would insist that all the girls would arrive at 9 p.m. and that they would begin work at 9:30 p.m. They each had a room on the second floor, all the rooms opened out onto a landing that overlooked the ground floor and bar of the saloon. The girls would come down at 9:30 on the dot to hollering from the men, they would then mingle and we would all soon find out who had got the gold that day. It was a drunken frenzy yes - but - really it was a nervous time for the majority, who had none. In reality there would only be a few spenders and after they had been located, they would be led up to the rooms, leaving the losers at the tables. There was something about sitting in among all the losers that was appalling. It was as quiet as it gets in this place for a few moments anyway.
“You know I have not been with a woman in nine months,” Gene, a squarely grey haired looking like the sun had charred his face permanently, said. “I have forgotten what it feels like, and I think it might make me crazy, beyond God’s grace, to see another man walk up those fucking stairs.” His hand squeezed so tight that began to shake the table which it rested upon.
“Don’t you have a wife?” I asked, but instantly regretting doing so.
“You know fully well, JOHN, that me and Mary-Lou are not on speaking terms after the incident that occurred, last summer.”
“Yes, sorry Gene.” He looked into space, probably remembering the incident.
“It was like a peach on its side.” Gene continued.
Someone got up and walked over to the piano and began to play to make sense of the air. Lisa was unrecognizable when she came out of the room followed by a short round man, who was red in the face and had sweat on his chin, that he wiped off with a handkerchief. She was all smiles until she turned back towards the door, closing it behind her.
I looked across the table at Jim. Jim never went with the women, even if he had gold, he was the quiet broody type, always in a trench coat and wide brimmed hat. Picking up he sipped his whisky, sipped a little and placed it back down. He liked the control he had mastered in his abstinence, and no one bothered him. He could have been the richest man in town, or the poorest, there was no way to tell, I respected him more than the others. He picked up his glass again, and after sipping his drink pointed out his finger towards the door.
“They’re the only thing in this place that has wisdom.”
“What the fuck are you talking about Jim,” Gene was still brooding, “I’m sick of your god damn lone ranger shit! you don’t fool me mother fucker!”
“What did you say to me.” Jim pulled out a gun.
“I said you are a fake, a phoney, a eunuch-and I am a hound dog, AHWHOOOOO,” Gene got up on the table, “I will fuck you, don’t worry Jim, it’s been a while for me too, but don’t ya worry, I’ll be gentle.” Jim was going red under his hat and holding his breath.
“It’s ok Jim, look,” Jim got his penis out and swung it around in circles, “Ahwhooo.”
BANG
BANG
BANG
The first took his penis clean off, the second and third in an arm a piece.
“AHHHHHHH.”
Gene dropped to the table and then the floor, where he finally curled into a ball.
The Minister came over and helped Gene up and out the door for medical attention at the church.
III
When the Minister came back and sat down next to me he had blood-stained sleeves and shirt front.
“You know,” he turned to me, taking the half full glass of whiskey that Gene had left, “I do believe Gene might die, it’s a rotten thing Jim,” taking a gulp out of the glass that had blood smeared on it, “in a day or two, the wounds will smell up the churches dorms, it’s a rotten thing Jim.”
I felt for the Father, he was always in a state of disappointment, like he hoped it would one day get better and people would stop their ways of cruelty. He lived life in blind faith that the Lord would save us, but night after night our ways of living had crushed what hope he had.
“Then I will have to operate, maybe even amputate both arms, and his penis Jim.”
He looked into his glass and shouted for another, a refill, the bottle. Harold came over and obliged, weather priest or prostitute, Harold always obliged.
“They say there is a town north of here where there is no crime, where the church has taken in the towns people, where did I go wrong,” he poured and gulped, “to hell with it, this town is cursed, and I am its fool.”
Lisa came through the smoke and looked at me, half real and half not, she circled the table and sat next to Father Michael. His eyes now glazed over like all the others, his words became slurred as if he spoke to himself, Lisa put her arm around him to console him, as he began to weep into her breast. She sat on his knee, and he began to kiss her breasts and feel her thigh. He was one of us, just like that and the place seemed more vacant, like there was no chance. I must admit, even though he seemed pitiful when preaching to us all, he now seemed as hopeless as a stray dog rummaging through garbage cans, alone in the rain.
He slurred something into Lisa’s ear and stood up with her, walking behind her as she held his hand like a child, and led him up the stairs and into her room, closing the door behind him.
I think something died in all of us this night, and it was never the same again. We all believed that we were cursed. The gold dried up and the nights became as cold and lonely as they could. Father Michael left and others started to follow. I left also, and headed for the town in the north that had a good church—what else was I going to do?
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