Green Eyes

  The neon sign above the restaurant - a blue script Sealey’s - hummed and sputtered, attracting clouds of moths which fluttered in and out of its nimbus like spotches in a reel of silent film. Jocundra pulled up to the side entrance, and a rawboned blond girl wearing a tube top and cut-offs skipped out and hopped in the back of the van with Richmond. ‘Couldn’t get but a six-pack,’ she said breathily; she leaned up between the seats. ‘Hi! I’m Marie.’ Her face was long-jawed and dopey, heavy on the lipstick and mascara. Introductions all around, Jocundra eased out onto the highway, and then Marie poked Donnell’s arm and said, ‘Sure was a weird wreck you guys had, y’know. The light hurt your eyes, too?’

  Donnell tensed and said, ‘Uh, yeah,’ but Marie talked right through his answer. ‘Jack here says he don’t never take his glasses off, even when he gets, y’know…’ She giggled. ‘Friendly.’

  The Buccaneer Drive-In was playing TRIPLE XXX LADIES NO CHARGE, and the lot was three-quarters full of vans and pickups and family cars, most honking and whooping, demanding the show begin at once. The first feature was Martial Arts Mistress; it detailed the fistic and amorous exploits of a melon-breasted, bisexual Chinese girl named Chen Li, who slept her way up the ladder of the emperor’s court so she ultimately could assassinate the evil prime minister, he who had seduced and killed her sister. The film’s highlight was a kung fu love battle between Chen Li and the minister, culminating with them both vaulting impossibly high and achieving midair penetration, after which Chen Li disposed of her nemesis by means of a secret grip bestowing unendurable pleasure.

  Jocundra might have found it amusing, but Richmond’s performance eliminated any possibility of enjoyment. As he and Marie scrunched between the seats, he snorted into her neck and grabbed her breasts, causing giggles and playful slaps, and as the middle of the film approached, he drew her down under a blanket. Rummaging, whispers, a sharply indrawn breath. The van shuddered. Then the unmistakable sounds of passionate involvement, topped off by hoarse exclamations and suppressed squeals. Jocundra sat stiffly, staring at the writhing Oriental shapes, doing for technicolor sex what Busby Berkley had done for the Hollywood musical. Marie made a mewling noise; Richmond popped a beer, glugged, and belched. Feeling imperiled, isolated, Jocundra glanced at Donnell, seeking the comfort of shared misery. He had flipped up his sunglasses and was holding Magnusson’s ledger close to his face, illuminating the page with the green flashes from his eyes.

  At intermission, the theater lights blazed up, cartoon crows bore fizzing soft drinks to save a family of pink elephants stranded in a desert, and people straggled toward the refreshment stand. Marie declared she had to visit the ladies’ room and asked Jocundra to come along; her tone was light but insistent. Some teenagers hassled them outside the bathroom and beat on the door after they entered. The speaker over the mirror squawked, ‘Five minutes until showtime,’ and blared distorted circus music. Bugs fried on the fluorescent tubes; the paper towels soaking on the floor looked like mummy wrappings, brown and ravelled; and a lengthy testimonial to the joys of lesbianism occupied most of the wall beside the mirror.

  Marie removed lipstick, eyeliner and mascara from her purse, and began to repair the damage done her face by Richmond. ‘Did they really shoot them boys fulla snake poison?’ she asked abruptly. ‘That why Jack’s, y’know, a little cooler than average?’

  Jocundra restrained a laugh. ‘Uh huh,’ she said, and splashed water on her face.

  ‘I heard about ‘em changing people’s blood,’ said Marie. ‘But I never did hear about ‘em replacin’ it with snake poison. Is yours the same way?’

  ‘It’s only temporary.’ Jocundra affected nonchalance, patting her face dry.

  Two women banged the door open, jabbering, and disappeared into grimy stalls.

  Marie tugged at her cut-offs, turned sideways to judge the effect. ‘Well, it don’t bother me none. I just thought ol’ Jack was shittin’ me. He’s one crazy dude.’ She winked at Jocundra and wiggled her hips. ‘Anyway, I like ‘em crazy! Guess you do, too.’

  Jocundra was noncommittal.

  Marie adjusted her tube top. ‘He asked me to come along with y’all.’ Then seeing Jocundra’s stricken expression, she hastened to add, ‘But don’t worry, I’m not. It ain’t Jack, y’understand. He’s just fine.’ She headed for the door, pausing for a final look into the mirror; she had, by dint of painstaking brushwork, transformed her eyes into cadaverous pits. ‘I just know there’d be trouble between you and me,’ she shot back over her shoulder, tossing her hair and switching her rear end. ‘I can tell we ain’t got nothin’ in common.’