Billy stays with Elaine in her room at the Astoria, above the Heaven Book Store. He goes to see Cholo, the bookstore owner, about possible work…
Like an imitation sunrise, the pink and lime-green riband of neon snapped on right before the more blood red lettering of “ASTORIA H-o-t-e-l” joined the visual cacophony of lower 14th Street.
Lots of commotion roiled the bowels of the hotel/rooming house/”quickie” parlor, and it wasn’t the rumbling bellies in the aisles of the Happiness Restaurant, but the ruck going on in Heaven Bookstore.
“Whaddya mean ya need ta run up to yer room? Don’cha mean ELAINE’s joint? She’s yer KEEPER, ain’t she now? Luck? Billy ya dang PUNK?”
Ferret wasted no time in trying to chop Billy down to his runty stature, figuratively if not literally.
Cholo waded in at once, his hammy hands flailing. He was worried that “Apache” might be a bit too ready to employ his box-cutter on Billy’s face.
“Whoa, now, just WHO is the punk in dis confection, I says.” Cholo pulled Ferret away.
Billy softly but firmly repeated what he’d just announced to the bookstore duo. “I, er, forgot to say g’bye to Elaine —”
“O, let me just barf,” belched Ferret, but Cholo grunted for Billy to go back upstairs since he was off the clock anyhow. Billy squirmed up the tiny passageway to the creaky back stairs.
“Nice butt, don’t he,” drooled Ferret.
Cholo threw him a couple bundles of American Sportsman. Direct hit, in fact-“Mebbe this’ll shut you up a minute, lil’ bruddah, I mean, WORM!”
Billy, in fact, did care a fair degree for Elaine, even though he was quick to pick up the constant downer vibe behind her blotchy rouged smile of forced cheer.
When he reached Room 301, a pert coffee-colored young lady with her jet-black hair pinned up with what looked like tortoise-shell trimmed in real jewels and wearing the tightest jeans and prettiest cotton tube top he’d ever seen, fully filled the door arch between Billy and Elaine.
“Oh Billy, this … is Lupe,” chirped Elaine, through the bodies — hers and Lupe’s.
“Please to meet ya, Loopy,” offered Billy Luck. “I wa’ just e’splaining to Lanie, so sorry about the ‘asustadanda noise,’ you know Jose was out on leave with the ships, and was so muy alegria to see me, I am so sorry!
“We’ve never had an earthquake on the Tinderloin, but my goodness, Lupe, there’s a first time for everything.”
The two dancing girls broke down in a sea of tittering. Billy blew a kiss to Elaine, insisting Cholo needed him back, but Elaine wouldn’t hear of it. “We’re going over to Grand’s five an’dime to have a morning coffee with our neighbor Lupe, so you can’t stop us!!”
As the two gals tugged Billy past the window of Cholo’s shop, chicken hawk was livid, the boss strangely calm.
“Let him go, Ferret, he ain’t on the clock yet—”
“What clock,” the guttersnipe retorted. “All we got’s is a sign-in sheet!”
Cholo simply shrugged. Down on F Street, Billy gazed up in amazement at the glowering lions and Bacchus faces on the 19th-century commercial buildings.
“My home town in Delaware is way old, but I figured in D.C., yuh’d ha’ REDEVELOPED by this late date!” At this wry observation, Lupe chuckled softly, and Elaine then threw them both a sharp, knowing glance.
“Actually, Billy, somebody DOES have a plan. And it ain’t just the old wrecks that’s in danger. Us as well!”
(To be continued…)
