< PreviousJack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS WORK 98Jim Stewart Spanish chanting now of an individual nature. Suddenly, the young girl who had anointed us with the flower water gave a high-pitched Spanish trill, spun around a few times in the center of the circle as if she were a misplaced ballerina from a Degas painting, and collapsed in an artful heap on the maple floor. As if one, three young men in white, who looked like they could be cousins, leapt from their folding chairs and covered her body with theirs, in a parody of a multi-headed two-backed beast. Lucky girl. “What’s happening?” I whispered to Rocky. I felt I was watch- ing an opera and didn’t know the score. “A dark spirit entered her. They are driving it away.” The girl seemed to come out of her trance. She sat up on the floor, and looked at the three young men. It no longer seemed decorous for them to be in such an intimate pile on the floor. Too bad. They all returned to their folding chairs. Low Spanish chanting resumed. I felt I should applaud. I didn’t. Suddenly a deep profundo voice boomed across the room. All fell silent. “That’s my grandfather,” Rocky whispered, again very close to my ear. Again I experienced the same results from his warm breath in my ear. I looked around the room to see where the grandfather was. Again the deep voice spoke in Spanish. I had no idea what it said, but was it possible? The deep male voice seemed to come from Rocky’s grandmother. I looked at Rocky with raised eyebrows in a silent question mark. “He’s speaking through my grandmother,” he whispered. “What’s he saying?” I asked. This time my lips were very close to Rocky’s ear. “He says the dark one in the room must be cleansed.” I looked around the room. “Who’s that?” I said, nearly put- ting my tongue in his ear. “He means you,” Rocky said. There was much Spanish whispering in the room. Why hadn’t I taken Spanish, I thought, in a sudden panic. What good were Latin and French now?Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS WORK Folsom Street Blues99 “He’s calling for you,” Rocky said, in a normal tone. “But I don’t know Spanish,” I said, as I looked toward the floor-length drapes. I couldn’t tell if the machete was still behind them. Sweat trickled down my back. “I’ll translate,” he said, as we both walked toward his grandmother. I squatted rather than knelt in front of the old lady. Her dusky face wore a set of wrinkles like a fine mask of Georgia O’Keeffe. She spoke in her old-lady voice again. Rocky no longer whispered but told me quietly what she said. I had three friends, she told me, who were false friends. They meant me harm. She would give me power to protect myself. This came out in short Spanish sentences that Rocky translated in what seemed a very formal and old-fashioned way. The advice was interspersed with sips from the rum bottle. First she would sip and then offer the bottle to me and I would sip. Then she took a small “dead” cigar from her pocket. Some more Spanish. Her voice was the only sound in the room. “She needs something red from you. A red ribbon to tie around the cigar,” Rocky told me. A red ribbon, I thought. Not exactly stock-in-trade for a South of Market leatherman. I did have something red, however. I pulled a handkerchief from my left rear pocket. Very carefully I tore a narrow strip from along its edge and placed it in the old woman’s hand. It was wrapped deftly three times around the cigar stub and tied in a knot. She lit the cigar, inhaled, and passed it to me. This time I did not show off. I merely inhaled. This was repeated three times. It was alternated with sips of rum. Finally, Grandmother put the still-lit cigar stub backwards into her tooth- less mouth. She took it out again. It was no longer lit. She placed it in my right palm and closed my fingers around it. She patted my hand, as if to say that everything would be all right. The cigar was not even warm. While she was doing this, she kept speak- ing in Spanish. Rocky kept translating, phrase by phrase, almost as quickly as she spoke. He could have worked at the United Nations. “She says that if you ever find yourself in trouble, if you ever Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS WORK 100Jim Stewart need help, just ‘turn on’ the cigar, think of her, and she will be there to help you.” “Turn on the cigar?” “Light it,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The ritual ended shortly after my salvation. I was embraced by Rocky and several of the young women. They were all very chaste embraces. They reminded me of church-women embraces I received the summer I was 11, when I found salvation in the baptismal waters of Bass Lake. Neither time did handsome young men embrace me. Just as I was leaving, I saw Rocky’s brother remove the machete from behind the drapes and head toward the back door. When I left the Santeria ceremony I headed for John’s place, to help celebrate his 40th birthday. A large Klieg light swept the sky as I neared Church Street, a couple of blocks west of Guerrero. As I got closer I realized the Klieg was parked in front of John’s house. Of course, I thought. It was searching for secrets, in hid- den places, known only to the cognoscenti of San Francisco. The convivial rumble and chatter of a crowd enjoying itself greeted me as I ascended the outer steps of the Edwardian town- house. A high-pitched laugh pierced the air. I knocked, but doubted anyone could hear me above the din of good times. I opened the heavy paneled door, stepped in, and looked around. An all-male cocktail party was in full swing. I spotted Bill Essex. He wore no shirt, the better to show off his bodybuilder physique. He headed my way. “The bar’s over this way,” he shouted. I followed him through the crowd to one end of the long living room, where a temporary bar was set up. “What’ll you have, sir?” the young bartender said, with a slightly British accent. Did he speak Empire too, I wondered. He too wore no shirt. “Gin and tonic,” I told him, “with lots of ice.” I didn’t want a tepid English gin and tonic. He had a swimmer’s build. I noticed his long graceful hands, as he gave me my gin and a sly smile. Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS WORK Folsom Street Blues101 There was plenty of ice, and an unspoken promise of more. “You’ve never been here before,” Bill said. “Let me give you the grand tour.” I got the grand tour. I could have been in a London town- house. The elegant interior contrasted well with the shabby chic of the exterior. “The exterior’s meant to discourage cat burglars,” Bill said, as if reading my mind. As we came out of “Sister Anne’s Room,” Bill pulled me into the bathroom off the upstairs hallway. An antique clawfoot bath- tub, the exterior painted forest green, sat at an angle in a large room filled with tropical plants. Potted palms and hanging ferns gave the feel of a private conservatory. Multi-mullioned French doors led to a private roof deck. It was not for a quickie, but for a snort, that Bill had dragged me in there. “I need to freshen my drink,” I told Bill, as we came down the stairs. “The bartender’s name’s Mike,” Bill said. “I should have introduced you.” Sharp. “John was receiving in the library, the last I knew,” Bill added, as he headed for the front door. Another guest had just arrived. I entered the library to give my congratulations to John for reaching his 40th. There was a marble bust of a youth on his desk. “That’s an exquisite puer, John. Where did you get it?” “An old friend of mine, in London, gave it to me the last time I was there. It’s from Roman Britain.” “Do you know who it is?” “It’s thought to be Antinous, Hadrian’s lover. He drowned while still a youth. The emperor deified him.” A little after midnight, I left John’s place with Mike the bar- tender’s phone number, and headed back South of Market. Sometime later, during the waning months of the Leather- neck bar, Rocky arrived at work one night driving a new red MG. He told Allan he was quitting his job. His new lover, a doctor in Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS WORK 102Jim Stewart Marin County, didn’t want him getting home so late. The bar closed at 2:30 in the morning. The new MG had convinced Rocky his future lay in Marin County, not on Folsom Street.Next >