Painless

When I lived in San Francisco, a guy who lived in the building behind me jumped out his 7th floor window. It was a Saturday, middle of the afternoon. Del was down the hall in the shower. We lived in a residence hotel, The Winton, on O’Farrell between Jones and Taylor. The room just had the sink, everything else was community. I was sitting at the desk, typing a letter to a friend when I heard what sounded like a gunshot. I looked out the window and there was a group of dudes in the alley, hiding behind a car. They saw me and called out, “You see anything? What was that?” I looked over to where they were pointing and there he was. Naked from the waist down, wearing a blue t-shirt, a puddle of blood forming rapidly beneath him. I screamed, “It’s a body! A dead body! Right there!” “What?! A what?!” “A dead fucking body! It’s right there! Right there!” I was freaked out, pointing frantically. I didn’t want to look but had to look, of course I had to look. I wanted to know where he came from, what floor. I looked straight up from where he lay and followed the windows to the 7th floor and sure enough, there they were, curtains flapping in the wind. No mystery to me what was on the other side of that windowsill. It was death.
Del came in. “Holy shit, holy shit. This guy just fucking killed himself. He just jumped out the fucking window.” “What? Where?” I wasn’t thinking about shielding her from anything, wanted her to be witness to it, wanted her to see his half-naked body lying in that Tenderloin alley. In one desperate move, this guy had summed up my entire San Francisco experience and I wanted her to see it.
She went to window and looked out. The blood was like an outline around him with one stream running from his feet to the nearby gutter. I couldn't see his face but the guys who’d been hiding behind the car were freaking out, alternately looking at him and then jumping away. “Shit, he is fucked up! Oh shit! Goddam!” All three had their cellphones out and it wasn’t long before an ambulance showed up and was followed by a couple of detectives and a uniform car. Del was horrified but like me, she couldn’t leave her spot by the window. One of the cops spotted us. “What did you see?” “Nothing! Just heard it and looked out! It’s the 7th floor!” “We know! Thanks!” I wished so much that I had seen it. I wanted to be more involved in this whole thing. Something I was going to exploit for the rest of my life hadn’t even really all the way happened to me. I felt gypped. I got back on my typer and told my friend what had happened. I couldn’t believe it. What luck.
Del was upset. Both by the sight of that guy’s body and my obvious excitement. “I gotta get outta here.” She brushed past me to the other side of our tiny room. “Let’s get drunk.” It was all I had. “No. I’m not getting drunk with you in the middle of the fucking day.” “That guy just exploded all over the alley.” “I know. I saw it.” She was dressed by this point. I grabbed my coat. “I’m gonna get a drink.” She stopped to look at me. “I’m just saying. That’s what I’m doing and I’d like it if I could drink with you.” “Okay. But I’m not getting drunk. I’ll leave you there.” “I know you will.”
Mr. Bing’s on a Saturday afternoon. Beats suicide every time. The light slanting in just right through the windows, cutting the smoke, more movie than real life. Jameson and Budweisers. Tom Waits on the jukebox. “I’m leaving. Be careful.” She kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you later.” I drank until there was no more light shining through the windows. Drank until I was cross-eyed. Met two Irish kids who’d had all their shit stolen. They were holed up at The Shawmut across the street from me so we took the bus back to the Loin together. I was wasted, telling’em I was gonna get’em into all these bars. They didn’t need any fuckin I.D. It was the Tenderloin, man. They said okay, they’d meet me in a few. I go upstairs and Del’s there. She’s just leaving. “Come on, Del. Let’s getta drink.” She’d had a few herself at this point. “Okay. Let’s go.” We meet the Irish kids on the street and take’em down to Eddy. They don’t get carded. We play pool until the sharks started circling. Left a big tip and moved to Jones. Hit the 311. It’s packed. The Irish can’t handle the dark, go home. Del and I dance, oblivious to our whiteness. The knife in my pocket and the pint in my pocket making me color-blind, happy to not be the guy in the alley, happy to be on the edge and not on the ground. “I gotta go. I’m sorry. You wanna come with me? Come with me.” I knew we were going to meet her boyfriend and the lesbian mafia she hung with. It was a bad idea. “Sure. Let’s go.”
In the Mission. Their apartment. Boyfriend weird about me. On the street. Lesbo friend hits me. “Go home!” Del resigned and angry. Stumble to the closest bar on Valencia. Buy a round for the house. Half my paycheck. Bartender tried to talk me out of it, then said fuck it asshole wants to give me his money shit and poured. Everyone thinks I’m a weirdo. I leave. Bus back. Pass out. Wake up when the bus driver hits me. “Get off the fucking bus!” I stumble out. Ass-end of nowhere. Long walk home. Head that way. Cutting across Polk when the Wu-Tang Clan asks me for smokes. I pull my knife and scream. “Aiaaaiiaaaaiiiaaaaa!” Then run. The Clan laughs. I decide to go the Green Door. Who doesn’t want to know what’s behind the Green Door? Make my way over to Sutton and there it is. The bull dyke behind the desk looks at me, swaying and weaving, trying to count my money. “Forty dollars for a massage.” “I got 38.” “Hang on.” Little Asian woman comes out. “Let’s go.” I follow her into the red-lit hall, there’s a bath, a shower stall, it looks dirty. I follow her into a room. She lays out a towel on a massage bench. “Take off your clothes.” I take off my clothes. “Lay down.” I lay down on my back, my boner poking up waiting for her to grab it and jerk me off for 38 dollars. She pats me on the side. “Roll over.” I roll over. “What would happen if I came here with a hundred dollars?” “You get a very special massage.” She squirts oil on my back and starts rubbing. “Could I get a blowjob?” “You get a very special massage.” “Handjob?” “Very special massage. Okay, you done.” “Okay.” I get up from my three-minute massage and put on my clothes. She walks out without another word. I part the curtains and look out into the hall. It’s some kind of hellish maze. I have no idea where to go to get out of here. There’s no one around. No noise. I turn right and walk down the hall. Dead end. Turn around and go the other way. Lost in the red maze. “Can I help you?” It’s the bull dyke. “I’m done.” “That way.” She points to the door. “Thank you.” “No. Thank you.”
I stroll into the Loin 30 minutes later and it’s late. All the decent criminals have gone home, only ones left are the crackheads, the pimps and the teenage hookers. I’m in the pizza shop and I see this one girl. Blonde. Built. “Hey.” “Hey. Wanna date?” “Yeah. How much?” “125” “It’s in my room. I live right here.” “Let’s go.” A whispered conversation with the gigantic black guy. She walks out first and I follow. She takes my arm. We walk to the hotel door. I look through the glass and see the desk clerk in the two-way mirror. “Wait.” I watch as the guy behind the desk gets up and leaves. “Let’s go.” I open the door and we run down the hallway to the stairs. We run up the stairs to the 4th floor, to my room. “Where’s the money?” I open my drawer and take out a wad of bills. I give her a few. “Got anything to drink?” I pour two glasses of Southern Comfort. She takes a sip, leans into me. “Don’t try to kiss me, don’t put your mouth on my tits and don’t get rough.” “Okay.” She pulls my pants off, unrolls a condom and goes down on me. I lean forward and play with her tits while she blows me. She lifts her shirt and bra to let me feel her. “You wanna fuck me?” I don’t know what she looks like. I can’t really see her. I know she’s white which is a first for me and I know she’s not out to kill me. “Yeah. I wanna fuck you.” “Give me some more money.” I give her a few more bills. She stands up and takes off her shirt and bra. She moves me over on the bed and sits. She takes off her shoes and pulls her pants off. “You don’t have any weapons, do you?” I pull my knife out of my pocket. “Give it to me.” I hand her the knife. She puts it behind her head without looking. She puts a fresh black condom on me and eases me into her. I’m crazy with lust but surrender to her lead, take it slow. “Go ahead.” She pulls me into her. “Come on, baby. That’s right. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me.” I quicken my pace, it’s heaven, I can’t stop, I don’t want to. “Pull out before you come, okay? Okay?” I nod. “Roll over.” “Not my ass.” “I know.” I take her from behind. She moans. I’m going to come. I can’t believe it. I’m wasted, been drinking since godknowswhen, it’s almost dawn, I’m wearing a rubber. But, it’s happening. “Okay. Okay.” I pull out of her. She rolls over quickly and pulls the rubber off and points my dick at the bedspread. “That’s it, baby. That’s right.” She milks my cock, careful to not let any of it touch her. I shudder. “Hey, that was all right. You’re a nice guy. You come find me again, okay?” She’s dressed already and at the door. “Okay. Thanks.” Out she goes.
I pick up the phone and call Delfina. “Hello?” “I just fucked a teenage whore.” “Where are you?” “At home.” “You just fucked a whore in our room? On our bed?” “Yeah. She was hot. I bent her over.” The line goes dead. I finish my drink and grab what’s left of my cash.
I’m back on the street. I walk up to the first b-girl I see. “Fitty.” I give her some bills and she whistles. Another girl comes out, throws a bag on the ground and then goes away. I pick it up and start walking back to my room. “Hey baby.” “Hey." "Wanna date?" "No. I don't wanna date. I don’t wanna fuck. I don’t have any money.” “You got rock?” "Yeah.” “Let’s go.” She takes me by the hand and leads me to a resi hotel on Polk St. As we go through the front door, the guy behind the glass makes me give him my license. I follow her to her room. “I don’t wanna fuck. You wanna get high with me, that’s cool. I’m down with that. But I’m not gonna pay you for sex, okay?” She ignores me and pulls out her works. She takes my bag and stuffs the end of her pipe full. She hits it hard, hands me the torch and the pipe. I hit it hard, hand it back. She loads it again. Hands it to me. I can’t work the torch so she does it for me. “Yeah. That’s it. Just like that.” I hit it again. I can’t see. Her bedspread is blue, the walls are green, the bed we are sitting on is soft. I lean back. She flips out. “What’re you doing?! What’re you doing?! TONY! TONY!” She’s screaming. “What? What?” I can’t figure out what the hell is going on. I freeze then remember where I am. I run for the door. Don’t stop. Nothing left behind, just run. I get to the hallway and look back. There he is. Tony. All I see is big, mean, latin, black, wifebeater, something shiny in his hand. I don’t look back again. Hit the stairs running. Is he still coming? Don’t look. Get to the desk. “Oh, so you are ready to go?” The young Iranian guy giving me shit. I look back to the stairs. Nothing. “Yeah, I’m ready. Give me my I.D., please.” He chuckles to himself, hands me my license. “Good night.”
I wake up the next day two hours late for my job at the coffee shop. Show up and my bosses want to fire me. I convince them not to, to go out, not worry about it, I’ll be fine. By 7 p.m. that night, I’m on a bus to Colorado Springs.