The Royal Family Read Online Free

capable of dealing severely with people who disappointed him might have contributed to the alacrity of a different subaltern, but Tyler, for all his other failings—disorganization, mental inertia, withdrawal, and above all moral uncleanliness—was no coward. Brady therefore scarcely impressed him in a more than diffusive way. And the episode of Domino, who in and of herself exercised upon him retrospective fascination, had begun to raise within him certain almost magical expectations which he’d otherwise abandoned in life (with one incestuous exception which we’ll get to later). What if the Tenderloin (for instance) comprised a worthwhile puzzle whose solution might enlighten him? (I’ll make a few phone calls on the local level, he murmured to himself.) What if destiny actually had gifts in store for one whose habits had long since confirmed him in giftlessness?
    So you didn’t get a name, Brady said.
    She mentioned somebody named Sapphire, but I don’t think that’s the Queen. And Big Bitch, Maj, all that stuff, I don’t really believe . . .
    I always thought this Queen was a little like Gotti in New York, Brady laughed. I always thought you really burden yourself once you go out and make a big name for yourself.
    Yeah, maybe that’s her thinking, said Tyler, not really listening.
    The crazy whore stayed inside the garage for only about ten minutes, which implied that it might be some kind of message drop. (Brady yawned and did not cover his mouth.) Then her glowing trail unraveled itself almost as quickly as it had formed and snailed, shrinking all the way back to Ellis and Jones, where she stopped for five minutes, probably to make a crack buy, and then back to her hotel room. Tyler smiled again.
    I’m tired, Brady said.
    Tyler left his boss sitting in the car outside, tiptoed up the stairs, and put his ear to the crazy whore’s door. He heard her singing in a sad voice:
They called me Flower-of Gold,
    and they called me Flower-of-Silk,
    but when I became Queen of the Fold
    they bathed me never in milk.
     

| 7 |
    His boss had to go to Vegas for business. Tyler drove him to the airport. Then he drove home and took a cab to North Beach on Brady’s nickel, just to see what the cab drivers knew. The first driver didn’t know anything. Tyler was feeling pretty good. He went out for Italian food, pretending that the woman he wasn’t supposed to love was sitting across from him. If he sat at home he’d get depressed. He didn’t like to read anymore, and he hated television. Darkroom chemicals were expensive. There wasn’t a lot to do.
    The cab driver back to the Sunset was a Russian who was listening to a scratchy cassette of sad Russian songs sung by a woman whose voice was more rich and expressive than the crazy whore’s, but her sadness was the same. The driver obviously loved it. Every time the dispatcher tried to call him on the radio, he’d sigh: Idiot.
    Were you a soldier? said Tyler.
    The Russian nodded glumly, whistling.
    Afghanistan?
    Afghanistan.
    What was your job?
    Meteorologist, said the Russsian, and Tyler didn’t believe him.
    You must have seen some bad things, Tyler said.
    The Russian nodded.
    I saw two people get killed today, said Tyler, just to see if he was listening.
    Tough, growled the Russian sympathetically, shrugging his pale wide shoulders.
    Do you know the Queen? said Tyler.
    Not in my organization. Another one. Before, was in mine. Now finished.
    Tough, said Tyler, shrugging his shoulders.
    Your country finished, said the Russian. You have a problem, a black problem.
     

| 8 |
    The ruby light winked on his answering machine, like one of Carol Doda’s nipples back in the old days on the neon sign for the Condor. Carol Doda had a lingerie shop on Union Street now. Once Tyler had gone inside to pick out something for his sister-in-law Irene, but he hadn’t bought anything, and he never knew whether or not the woman at the cash register was Carol Doda. Now he sat