Free Visitation Street by Ivy Pochoda Page A

out. She and all her night crew had been working their way through a freezer bag of mushrooms one of the local dealers had dropped off as a Christmas present. The dealer wished Lil’s gang a Happy New Year, accepted a few drinks, then left them to their hallucinations. Some of the barflies had been tripping on and off for a week when Lil had her breakdown. Halfway through her shift, her eyes popped wide and her jaw froze. Her arms began to shake, and she dropped the bottles of booze she’d brought up from the basement.
    Jonathan got his arms around Lil and dragged her to the storeroom. She began ripping off her clothes, tossing them away as if they were on fire. She lay on the floor, rolling back and forth. Jonathan was trying to pull her to her feet when the door opened and Paulie stepped in.
    “Fucking junkies,” Paulie said. He stood there with his arms crossed. “You assholes going to get me a drink or am I gonna serve myself?”
    Lil got through the night and Paulie drank for free until he got drunk enough to tell her she was a slut for giving it away to degenerates like Jonathan.
    “Fireman,” Lil says, pulling him a pint of PBR. “Your daughter doing okay?”
    “Shit,” Jonathan says loud enough to get Lil’s attention. Both she and Paulie turn his way. It would be Jonathan’s bum luck to have rescued Fireman Paulie’s kid and not even realize it.
    “The cops tell me you pulled my girl out of the drink,” Paulie says. He walks over to Jonathan, wedging himself between him and the bar. “I thought they were pulling my leg.”
    “Anyone could have looked under the pier.”
    “No one told me you teach at St. Bernardette’s. They run a background check?”
    “Probably,” Jonathan says.
    “I’m messing with you.” Paulie punches Jonathan in the arm, making him flinch. “You can’t take a joke? I thought you were tougher than that. Or are you the type who only talks a big game after you’ve had a few?”
    “I don’t talk a big game.”
    “You do. I’ve heard it. You’re always running your mouth. Right, Lil? He doesn’t shut up even when no one’s listening.” Paulie puts a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and gives him a shake. Lil finds something at the far end of the bar to occupy her. “A music teacher?” Paulie says. “Don’t expect Val to take your class.”
    “Not everyone is into music,” Jonathan says.
    “You want to tell me what you were doing down by the pier this morning?”
    “No. Just be thankful I was.”
    “I asked you a question.”
    “I couldn’t sleep.”
    “It’s an epidemic around here. You crawl around at all hours like our neighborhood’s your living room.”
    “I live upstairs from the bar. It keeps me up.”
    “Must be convenient.”
    “It’s inconvenient if you want a good night’s sleep.”
    “Funny,” Paulie says, punching Jonathan’s arm again. “I guess you don’t sleep too much then. I grew up here. All kind of whack jobs hang around the pier, even when the sun’s up. Especially when the sun’s up. You know what I’ve seen?”
    “I don’t,” Jonathan says.
    “I’ve seen a couple of your friends from this bar tripping their balls off, lying on the rocks with their toes in the water, like they were at the beach. You know what they had with them? A mounted bass. Who the fuck takes a stuffed fish to the water? You know what I think? I think seeing you drunks hanging out at all hours outside put ideas into the girls’ heads. I bet they thought they’d get in on the fun. Some fun. My kid winds up in the hospital. And the other girl, dead or worse.”
    “What’s worse than dead?” Jonathan asks and immediately regrets it.
    At the other end of the bar someone is cursing the Mets. Jonathan signals to Lil, but she ignores him.
    Paulie slides Jonathan’s empty away, signaling that he’s been cut off. Lil doesn’t offer a refill.
    Sunday has drained Red Hook. Not even the warm evening inspires people to come out. Outside the bar