Strega - Andrew H. Vachss [125]
It was time to be myself again.
91
I ROUNDED up most of the crew with no problems, but I couldn't find Michelle at any of her usual spots. Finally, I dropped in to The Very Idea, a transsexual bar where she hangs out when she isn't working.
"She's getting her hair cut, darling," her friend Kathy told me.
I made a face—her favorite "salon" reminded me of a parakeet's cage, feathers flying, shrill shrieking, and shit all over the floor.
"Oh, Burke, don't look like that. Nobody goes there anymore. Daniel has opened a fabulous new place on Fifth—here's a card."
"Thanks, Kathy," I said, throwing a twenty on the bar to cover her tab.
"See you around, handsome," she replied. I don't think it was the twenty bucks—transsexuals just have more empathy.
La Dolce Vita was a couple of flights up. It had a tiny little elevator but I took the stairs. I wasn't worried about running into anything, but if I was going to get back to myself, it was time to get started.
The joint was all pastel colors and mirrors. The waiting room was decorated with people reading the Italian edition of Vogue and drinking coffee from glass cups. The receptionist was inside a little island in the middle, watching the fun.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.
"Is Daniel here?"
"He's with a customer."
"It's the customer I want—which way?"
She pointed straight ahead. I followed her finger into a room overlooking Fifth Avenue—the windows sloped at an angle, flowers covering the broad base. Michelle was getting combed out by a slim man wearing a white sweater over blue jeans—white running shoes on his feet. She was in the middle of a heated exchange with the woman in the next chair.
"Honey, please don't go on about the Holy Coast. The only thing Los Angeles ever contributed to culture is the drive–by homicide!"
I stepped between them before it got bloody.
"Burke!" she called out. "You're just in time."
"For what?" I asked her.
"For Daniel," she said, like I was from another planet. "He just got a cancellation—and you need a haircut."
Daniel and I shook hands—he had a strong grip, an ironic smile on his face.
"Burke," he said. "What's your first name?"
"I'm not paying by check," I told him.
"Will you stop it?" Michelle snapped, turning in her chair to slap at my arm. This isn't a poolroom."
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I said.
"Talk."
"Not here."
Michelle sighed. "Oh, really—it's always such a big deal. Just give me a few minutes—sit down," she said, pointing to the chair next to her.
"This has to stay a few minutes anyway, Michelle," Daniel told her, patting her hairdo.
"Don't rush yourself, baby. Anyway, you have to cut my friend's hair too."
Daniel looked a question at me. I shrugged—what the hell.
"You have to get shampooed first," he said.
"Can't you just cut it?"
"It has to be wet," he said with a sideways glance at Michelle.
"He was raised in a barn," Michelle sighed.
I let some little girl lead me to another room, where she put the shampoo in my hair, rinsed it out, did it all over again. Daniel was still playing with Michelle's hair when I came back.
"How would you like this cut?" he asked.
"Just do whatever you do," I told him. I saw him glance at Michelle again. "Don't get stupid," I warned him.
He walked out of the room to get something he needed.
"Michelle, we got something on for tonight, okay?"
"A phone job for me?"
"And something with the Mole too," I told her. For once, she didn't make a crack about the Mole.
"What time?"
"We'll meet around five, five–thirty. Mama's basement, okay?"
"I'll be there, baby," she told me, giving me a quick kiss and walking out.
Daniel finished cutting my hair. With the room quiet, it was like a real barbershop–he even knew something about prize–fighting. When he was finished, I looked the same—Daniel told me it was an art.
I went out to the receptionist, asking for Michelle.
"Oh, she left a few minutes ago. She said you'd be taking care of her bill with yours."
What was I going to do? "Okay, how much for the whole thing?"
"Let's see…" she told