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By Darren Kaminsky
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Darren Kaminsky's novel, Sugar Spun Sisters, appears in serialized form every Monday right here on Me Three. The story follows the lives of five twenty-somethings living in Washington D.C. As far as the editors are currently aware, none of these characters work in politics.
Chapter Twenty-Six
July 10
Got a call from the Washington City Press. They want me and one of their writers to do a story on prostitution and illegal After-hours clubs. It only pays $50/ per published photo, but it’ll get me published and won’t require that I miss work. On the nights of the 14th, 15th and 16th, we’ll have to ride along with a patrol car that’s part of a special task force on after-hours clubs.
Got home from work just before it started raining. Water was pouring over the lip of the roof in front of my windows like a waterfall and I couldn’t see beyond it. It was a good sound with a fateful progression to it, noise in layers and layers of layers, like an endless army of drummers playing not with single sticks so much as bundles of them.
I walked downstairs slowly, listening to the lengthening drumbeat slow and pivot. It became light, then almost gentle, and then it crashed again in counterpoint.
As I got down to the next floor, there was another song. It was coming from Nell’s room and it was, unmistakably, the heavy deep voice of Johnny Cash -- ”...hurt me a little at a time...use me a little at a time...walk real slow like you don’t want to go...hurt me a little at a time...a little at a time...”
I sat down on a stair midway between the floors so I could hear and feel the crashing, breaking army of drums from above and the plaintive deep voice from below.
From where I sat, I could see Nell sitting in her rocking chair either lost in thought or just asleep.
* * *
July 12
On one side of us lives an older couple. None of us have met the wife, but the first week we moved in the husband was on his hands and knees, ass in the air, planting bulbs on either side of the stairway up to his house.
When he heard me walk out onto our front stoop, he got up, wiped his hand on his shorts and, in a gravelly voice, said, “Gerard Belmondo. Glad to meet you. My wife and I are awfully glad that this house is occupied again. You know, we moved here when this neighborhood was in very poor condition and we’ve really seen it pick up. I’m sure you kids will do your best to be good neighbors.”
“Of course,” I said.
“Good. Good. What do you do?”
“I’m a photographer and a marketing assistant.”
“Good. Good. Used to be in the military myself, but it takes all kinds, don’t you know?
“What did you do in the military?” I asked.
“Lots of stuff. I was military attache in Chile and El Salvador just before I got out.”
“Oh...” I said and remembered to try and smile. Here was the man who advised the South American generals who directed the death squads that killed the people whose deaths Nell would soon protest against. He was the anti-Nell, half a foot taller than me, with very broad shoulders and very brown skin. He held out his hand and without seeming to have pulled it from anywhere, gave me his card.
The card was white heavy-stock with the golden embossed seal of the United States in the upper left-hand corner, his name in script in the middle and, in the lower right hand corner, also in script, Commission on Protecting and Reducing Government Secrecy.
I had been on my way to work so I shook his hand, nodded when it seemed appropriate and then ran when I was finished so as to maybe be a little less late.
Since then, I haven’t even seen him, but this morning in our mailbox there was a folded-up newsletter. Across the top was a newspaper style masthead proclaiming it to be The Security Report, in a font larger than the masthead of The Washington Post. Underneath, it read: compiled and published by Gerard Belmondo, Concerned Neighbor.
The contents included all sorts of things; muggings, a burglary, a rape, several acts of vandalism... All of this going on around us and us not even knowing. Then, on the second page, in its own box, a list that shouldn’t have been all that startling:
6/11: 2012 Park Road: Disturbance of Peace: Group of people seen moving into house without posting signs warning neighbors of the noise of a move and the presence of a moving truck as is stipulated in Park Road Neighborhood Association Agreement Section 12(b). Report has been made to landlord.
6/11: 2012 Park Road: 22-2712 Violation: Under prior versions of the DC Code any household with 3 or more unrelated women would clearly be defined as a brothel. 2012 Park Road is a definitive example of why the ‘73 and ‘81 legal reforms left our neighborhoods so clearly open to the horrors of vice. On the Association’s behalf, letters have been drafted to the DC City Council and the United States Senate Committee on the District of Columbia.6/11: 2012 Park Road: Disturbance of Peace: Loud music, laughter and giggling emanating from 2012 Park Road until 4AM or 5AM. Police called. Letters written to Mayor’s office and Commissioner of DC Police on Association’s behalf.
6/13: 2012 Park Road: Lewd Behavior: Couple seen copulating on car in 2012 Park Road Carport. Police called but didn’t arrive for almost 3 hours. A full report was made. Copy to DC Police Commissioner and United States Senate Committee on the District of Columbia.
6/14: 2012 Park Road: Disturbance of Peace: More evidence of 22-2712 violation as well as suspicion that the inhabitants of 2012 Park Road are now turning their home into a drug den.
6/15: 2012 Park Road: Inhabitants are finally revealed as anarchist cell. On Association’s behalf detailing prior uninvestigated and unpursued violations of DC Code, sent to DC Police Commissioner, Director of FBI, FBI Assistant Director for Domestic Terrorism, the Washington Times and the United States Senate Committee on the District of Columbia.
6/15: 2012 Park Road: Disturbance of Peace: Federal Marshalls in conjunction with local police authorities seized house in raid. Many local residents were blocked from their homes (possible breach of 4th Amendment rights) during process. On Association’s behalf, letters to DC City Council, Police Commissioner and FBI Director.
6/23: 2012 Park Road: Lewd Behavior: Couple once again seen copulating on hood of car in 2012 Park Road Carport. Police called but never arrived. A complaint was lodged by phone. On the Association’s behalf, letter and copy of complaint to DC Police Commissioner, Director of FBI, FBI Assistant Director for Domestic Terrorism, the Washington Times and the United States Senate Committee on the District of Columbia.
6/27: 2012 Park Road: Lewd Behavior, Indecent exposure: Topless woman seen sunbathing behind 2012 Park Road. Police called, no response. On the Association’s behalf, letter and copy of report to DC Police Commissioner, Director of FBI, FBI Assistant Director for Domestic Terrorism, the Washington Times and the United States Senate Committee on the District of Columbia. [Hmm, wonder which of the roommates that was?]
7/01: 2012 Park Road: Multiple instances of Disturbance of the Peach [sic]: Large loud party held at house. Complaint to police surveillance team monitoring the house was met with ambivalence. Surveillance team member was later seen on the stoop of 2012 Park Road necking with pink-haired female. Complaints to police precinct by phone went unheeded. On the Association’s behalf, letter and copy of report to DC Police Commissioner, Director of FBI, FBI Assistant Director for Domestic Terrorism, the Washington Times and the United States Senate Committee on the District of Columbia.
7/02: 2012 Park Road: Littering: Beer bottles and mismatched tableware all over front stoop and walkway in front of house. Letter to landlord, to household and to DC Police Commissioner. Item added to list eventually to be sent to Director of FBI, FBI Assistant Director for Domestic Terrorism and the United States Senate Committee on the District of Columbia on the Association’s behalf.
7/06: 2012 Park Road: Indecent exposure; Lewd conduct: Female, wearing only socks, seen sitting on roof drinking from bottle. Letter to landlord and household. Police called, no response. Item added to list eventually to be sent to Director of FBI, FBI Assistant Director for Domestic Terrorism and the United States Senate Committee on the District of Columbia on the Association’s behalf.
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Darren Kaminsky is a writer living in Brooklyn. He can be contacted at sugarspun @ bigbagoftricks dot com.
© 2005 Me Three
