CHAPTER SIX

   Betty Black had been running the brothel ever since Screwhorse became a town. She prided herself on running a classy place. There were no smelly, toothless whores here like they had in the other mining towns. No sir, all of her whores were clean, pretty, and almost always whole.

   She walked up the stairs, wondering what the hell Mary wanted. Usually the girls took care of business themselves without having to bother Betty with the details. She loved the girls and would do anything for them but Betty just liked it better when she wasn’t being whined to about the customers.

   “Betty,” Mary said. “Timothy Horn’s here again.”

   “I know. I saw him go up with you. What’s the matter?”

   “I’m not sure I’m keen on doing what he wants.”

   Betty rolled her eyes. “Honey, what do I tell you girls? If you don’t want to do something, then just find another girl who will.”

   “I know, I know. Thing is, I already offered to get him another girl and he says that he won’t leave until I do it, no one else. He said I remind him of a girl he once knew. Trust me, if it was any other man you know I’d get Stacklee to throw him out.”

   “And we can’t do that. Then we’d have his uncle closing us down,” Betty said. She hated when the mayor’s nephew came in. It wasn’t that he was so much trouble. There are days when he was a perfect gentleman. It was just that he was just so goddamn crazy. There was something seriously wrong with the boy.

   Mary said, “Well, I don’t know what to do.”

   “What’s he want? Don’t say he wants you to take a shit on him. I know you’ve done that before.”

   “No, it’s not that. That don’t bother me none,” Mary said. “He has some sort of dead animal, something from the ocean or something, has a bunch of legs. Really ugly. He wants me to put it under the bed while we fuck.”

   “And?”

   “That’s it! He wants me to leave the thing under the bed while we do it. Thing smells like shit! I’m not letting him put some dead smelly thing there. What if the smell don’t go away?”

   “I don’t see the big deal, hon. Let him put it under the bed, stuff some cotton up your nose, let him have a poke at you, and then just make sure he takes the damn thing out when he leaves.”

   “I just don’t feel right about it, Betty. I can’t stand the smell of the thing. You want to come in and take a whiff?”

   “No, I don’t.” Betty put up her hands. “Mary, do what you think is best. But let me tell you something. That boy better come out of that room a happy little bastard. Understand?”

   “Yeah,” Mary said. She turned and sulked back to her room. Betty shook her head. Mary was a good girl and Betty felt bad making her do something she didn’t want to do but it wasn’t that odd considering a lot of the other requests they’ve received. Besides, Timothy Horn had to leave satisfied. If he did, then his uncle the mayor was satisfied and that meant no trouble for the brothel.

* * *

   When Mary got to the door, she opened it slowly and peeked in. There he was sitting on the edge of the bed with the dead animal on his lap, tentacles drooping down his legs and onto the floor. It was already starting to stink up the room.

   She knew Betty was right and that it would be better for all of them if Timothy Horn left satisfied but she just couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t just the smell. Just the thought of screwing around when that thing was underneath the bed made her crazy.

   Mary walked in, closed the door behind her, and said, “Okay, sweetie. Let’s get this over with.”

   Timothy stood up and smiled. “Change of plans.”

   Mary listened as Timothy Horn explained what he wanted to do instead of putting that ugly creature under the bed while they fucked. She hated to admit it but Betty was right. That crazy prick Timothy had to leave a happy man. That still didn’t make her any more comfortable with what he had planned.

   He said, “See what we’re going to do, we’re going to pretend this here is Lincoln and you’re going to be Lincoln’s wife. You’re going to sit next to him here.” He patted the bed where he had laid the dead animal down on the quilt. “Now, I’m going to be the assassin, see, and I’m going to shoot him.” He smiled. “Let me ask you, do you know where Lincoln was killed?”

   Mary said, “Was a theatre, right?”

   “Yes. Good girl, good girl. It was a theatre but we’re going to do it differently, see. We’re going to make believe we’re in an open-topped stagecoach and I’m going to be over there on the other side of the room making believe I’m hiding behind a fence or a bush or something.”

   “You know you can’t shoot your gun in here. Betty’ll have a fit.”

   “I’m not going to use a gun, Mary,” he said. “So just come and have a seat on the bed next to the President here while I go prepare for the assassination.” Timothy got undressed and walked over to the corner. He crouched down and gestured for Mary to sit on the bed next to the creature.

   Mary looked at the thing and felt bile rise into her mouth. It was such an ugly animal: dark pink and slimy with all those legs draped over the bed. It reminded her of the time she and another prostitute had explored each other’s pussies. Everything was so weird and wet. That experience had been disgusting and arousing at the same time. How can something so ugly like a pussy cause so much pleasure? Mary wondered if it was going to be the same type of experience.

   She pointed to the creature. “Wait, what the hell is that thing, anyway?”

   “Called a squid. My uncle got it from a friend of his who lives back east. New Jersey, actually. That’s where my family came from originally.”

   “Is that what passes for a pet? They don’t have dogs in New Jersey?”

   “Don’t know. This guy my uncle knows, he’s a judge over there, name’s Judge Kinski, maybe you’ve heard of him?”

   Mary shook her head.

   “Anyway, Judge Kinski liked to walk along the beaches there and one time he came across an Indian who was sitting with this thing on the beach, holding it like a baby. The judge asked the redskin what the hell he was doing and you know what the redskin said?”

   Mary shook her head again.

   “He said that he was trying to wake up some sort of god that lives in the sea. Those Indians are pagans, you know, devil worshippers.”

   “So that judge decided to just take this squid thing?”

   “Yeah. After he shot the Indian, that is. Shot him right in the mouth. He said there were teeth everywhere. I think he even gathered a few of them up, too. My uncle said the judge took those teeth and made them into dentures. I think he gave a few to my uncle, too.”

   She rolled her eyes. “That judge sounds like a real nice fellow.”

   Timothy Horn stood up from his crouch, stretched, and then went back into position. “So are you ready?”

   “Guess so.” She sat next to the creature and hung her feet off the bottom of the bed. “What do you want me to do exactly?”

   “I’m going to assassinate the bastard and you just go on screaming like if it was your husband being shot dead right in front of you. You can imagine what that’d be like, can’t you? Pieces of his brains and skull all over the place and you just get all crazy and shocked so you try to pick up the pieces.”

   “That’s sickening,” Mary said.

   “If it makes you sick, that’s alright. I imagine if you really saw your husband get shot in front of you that you’d probably vomit anyway. Just go with it, Mary. Lord knows I’m paying you enough. Now just sit right there and look at that wall and pretend you’re just enjoying the carriage ride.”

   Mary did what she was told. She sat next to the smelly Lincoln-creature and stared at the wall. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Timothy touching himself. Then he said, “Okay, now make believe you see someone you know out there yonder. Wave to them and keep waving until I tell you to stop.”

   She waved reluctantly. It was a strange thing to do but Mary had to admit that waving was preferable to some of the other requests she had come across like Doctor West who had wanted to perform extremely invasive medical examinations with bizarre equipment made of glass and bone. She had staunchly refused every time yet the doctor came back week after week with the same request.

   Her daydream was interrupted by Timothy saying, “Bang, bang, you’re dead! Bang, bang, you’re dead!” He tiptoed to the bed and starting sticking his index finger into the squid and then continued to stick all of his fingers in, scooping out stringy pieces of flesh. Mary jumped off the bed.

   “Holy shit!” She stood with her back against the farthest wall in the room.

   Timothy looked at her. “That’s it! Keep going! Scream to high heaven! Look! Your husband’s brains are everywhere! Everywhere!”

   Mary closed her eyes. She didn’t want to watch him mutilate the squid with his fingers even if the thing was already dead. She could hear the squishy sounds of Timothy’s hand as it went in and out of the wet carcass.

   “Mary! Come here and gather up some of your husband’s brains and skull! Come on! Your president needs you!”

   “No! Just stop!” she said. “Stop before I call Stacklee!”

   The noise stopped. Mary opened her eyes and saw Timothy standing there naked, covered in squid juice and squid flesh. He didn’t look happy.

   “I paid you to do something for me and I expect it to be done, see? You have the nerve to threaten me with calling your damned nigger friend? What’s he going to do about it?”

   Maybe it was the fact that she was being yelled at or the sight of Timothy covered in putrid slop but whatever it was, it made her want to fall down to the floor and weep. So that’s what she did.

   Timothy sighed heavily. “Mary, don’t cry. I’m sorry I yelled. You have to understand I just get angry sometimes.” He walked over to her and put his hand on her cheek. “Just come back over to the bed and pick up some of the pieces, okay?’

   Mary couldn’t believe that the man went from yelling to apologizing and then back to insisting that she follow through with what got her upset in the first place. But she thought of what Betty had told her. Timothy Horn must leave satisfied.

   “Okay,” said Mary, looking at the floor. She walked over to the bed and started picking up pieces of squid flesh with her right hand and putting them into her left. Timothy stood behind her touching himself.

   “That’s it, Mary. If you feel like crying again, don’t hold it in.”

   She let tears flow but not because Timothy wanted her to but because if she didn’t, she was sure she’d end up feeling worse. After a minute Mary had a handful of the creature’s flesh. Then she felt Timothy’s penis against her leg.

   “You know, Mary. I’m paying you for two days. You’re to stay with me all night. We may have to do this a few times to get it right. The president can be mighty finicky.”

   Mary sighed and said, “Okay.”

   “Now let’s see if you can milk me like a cow,” he said.

   Mary was afraid to turn around but did anyway. After all, she had to make sure Timothy Horn left a happy man.