Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr Read Online Free Page B

as she felt the blood soaked pant leg and looked at the
wound, blood still oozing out, her blood soaked sock and the small
pool of blood under her foot, trying to ignore the whistles and, Atta
girl, take it off.
    Vinnie had gone into the Greeks and got a bottle of
iodine from Alex and came out and told Georgette not taworry about
it. I/ll fix it up. He lifted her leg and poured the iodine into the
wound and laughed, with the others, when Georgette screamed and
jumped up, holding the injured leg with both hands, hopping up and
down on the other. They whistled, clapped their hands and someone
started singing, Dance Ballerina Dance. Georgette fell to the ground,
still clutching her leg frantically, and sat in the middle of the
sidewalk spotted by the light from the Greeks, one leg curved under
her, the other up and bent at the knee, her head bowed and between
her legs, like a clown imitating a dancer.
    When the pain subsided she got up and hopped back to
the step, sat down and asked for a handkerchief to wrap around her
leg. Whatta yacrazy? I dont want my hankerchief all messed up. The
laughter again. Vinnie stepped gallantly forward and pulled the
handkerchief from her pocket and helped her tie it around her leg.
There yaare Georgie. All fixed up. She said nothing but stared at the
blood; the wound growing larger and larger; blood poisoning streaking
her leg, the streak widening and almost to her heart; the stench of
gangrene from her rotting leg. . . .
    Well, comeon, give. What? What did you say Vinnie? I
said give me some loot and I/ll getya a cab so ya can go home. I cant
go home Vinnie. Why not? My brothers home. Well, where-ya gonna go?
Ya cant sit here all night. I/ll go to the hospital. They can fix my
leg and then I/ll go uptown to Marys. Areya crazy or somethin. Ya
cant go to the hospital. When they see that leg of yours theyll wanna
know what happened and the next thing yaknow the lawll be knockin on
my door and I/ll be back in the can. I wont tell them anything
Vinnie. You know that. Honestly. Irma pigs ass. They getya up there
and shoot somethin inya and youll talk ya ass off, vague memories of
radio programs heard and movies seen. I/ll getya a cab and takeya
home. No Vinnie, please! I wont tell them anything. I promise. I/ll
tell them some spick kids did it, holding her leg tightly with both
hands, rocking back and forth with a steady hypnotical rhythm and
trying with desperation not to get hysterical and to ignore the
throbbing pain in her leg. Please! My brothers home. I cant go home
now! Look, I dont know what ya-brother will do and I dont give a
shit, but I know what Im gonna do if ya dont shut thehellup.
    Georgette called to him as he walked toward the
avenue to hail a cab, pleading and promising anything. She didnt want
to argue with Vinnie; she didnt want him to dislike her; she didnt
want to provoke him; but she knew what would happen when she got
home. Her Mother would cry and call the doctor; and if her brother
didnt find the bennie (she couldnt throw them away and there was too
much to take at once) the doctor would know she had been taking
something and tell them. She knew they would take her clothes off and
see the red spangled G string she was wearing. Her brother might
ignore the makeup (when he saw her leg and all the blood; and when
her Mother started worrying about her and telling the brother to
leave him alone) but, he would never ignore the bennie and the G
string.
    Yet this was not what she really feared; it wasnt
being slapped by her brother that brought back the fear that almost
caused her to faint; that made her think (only briefly) of praying;
that pushed from her mind the smell of gangrene. It was knowing that
she would have to stay in the house for a few days, maybe even a
week. The doctor would tell her to stay off the leg until it healed
properly and her Mother and brother would enforce the doctors order;
and she knew they wouldnt allow any of her girl friends to visit her
and she had