Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [94]
She took her mouth from me. "Almost ready," she whispered.
"I'm ready now."
"Not yet. Wait." She stroked me with something slippery in her hand, gently working it in from the root to the tip. She took my hand. "Come on," she said, pulling me from the couch, leading me to the bed.
She sat down on the bed, pulling me with her, pushing me onto my back again. She lit a cigarette, put it in my mouth. She lay down on her stomach, her face inches from mine.
"Will you do something for me?"
"What?"
"Never mind what—will you do it?"
"I…"
"Just listen to me, okay? Then decide. All right?"
"Yeah." I felt so tired. Like an old man starting another long sentence.
"Remember I told you about that man I was with once? That tough guy? The guy who wouldn't have a bitch dog?"
"Yeah."
"Remember I told you he said all bitches would turn tail? That's what he wanted me to do?"
I nodded, dragging on the cigarette.
"You know what he meant? He meant turn my tail. He wanted to fuck me in the ass."
"Uh."
"He said a real man could always find a piece of ass—said he'd been in prison and he even found some there." She reached over, took the cigarette from me, drew on it. Handed it back. "Did you ever do that?"
"What?"
"Fuck a man. In prison."
"No."
"What'd you do?"
"I went steady with my fist," I snorted. Close to a laugh, but not there yet.
"'Cause a real man doesn't do that?"
"I don't know what a real man does. It's like everything I know, Belle—I only know the dark side. I only know what a man doesn't do."
"Is that why you wouldn't taste me? The first time we made love?"
"I told you the truth then—it's the same truth. In prison…men do things. I don't put them down for it. Man wants to fuck another man, it doesn't say anything about him."
"What is it a man doesn't do, then?"
"He doesn't fuck someone who doesn't want to be fucked, okay? That's the only rule, the only real one. Fucking another man in the ass doesn't make you less of one. But taking it…"
"I know. It makes a man into a girl."
"That's bullshit. A kid who gets raped in prison, it says something about the guy who did it to him, that's all."
"But if the kid doesn't fight…"
"He has to fight. He doesn't have to win."
"What happens to a kid who's raped?"
"He can lock up, go into PC. Protective Custody. Or he can hang up. Take himself off the count. I guess he could even escape. But he can't walk the yard unless he squares it."
"How does he square it?"
"Kill the guy. Shank him, pipe him, poison him… it don't matter. Even it up. Get it back."
I sat up in the bed, lit another cigarette. "That's what I was trying to tell you. There's rules. For everything. They don't have to be fair ones. The first time I was in reform school, one of the bigger kids rolled on me. I never let him finish his pitch. We fought. He could beat me, but he knew he'd never turn me. The next time I went back inside, I was older. Smarter. They were running another game then. It was all gangs inside. They'd make one of the little kids run. Take off at night. Then they'd run out and catch him. Kick the shit out of him, drag him back. They used to get a go–home behind it. Just another way of being raped.
"When they came to me, I told this big guy I'd do it, but I wasn't doing it for nothing. He had to give me his radio. I watched his face—I could see he was thinking what a chump I was.
"He gave me his radio and I told him I'd run in a week. I spent a lot of time on the grounds. Looking around. Getting ready. When the night came, I took off. I told him I'd be waiting for him by this big tree. Made him promise not to hurt me when he brought me back. I kept watching his face—I knew he was lying.
"I took off. Climbed up in the tree with this cinder block I'd found. He came looking for me. Calling my name. Real quiet, so he'd be the one to bring me in. Get all the credit for himself."
I bit into the filter tip of the cigarette, feeling myself smile inside at the memory, my hand on