“’Suppose you’re the King of the Tramps?” asked Lula of the man with the cigarette.
“We got no kings here. But your enemies got to know you got organization … hierarchy; that you can defend yourselves. No, there’s no king. There’s no freedom when you gotta answer to a king. And that’s what we have here. The freedom to do as we please, but not many get to enjoy freedom like that..
“But you get to stay here,” noted Lula.
“We’re everywhere. From Old City to New, from the Lotuslands to the Hills, we’re listening and watching. Only reason we’re here’s because of the raids.”
“Because they’re looking for people like me?” suggested Tyler.
“They’re lookin’ for anyone who challenges them,” suggested a black man with a glass eye, a matted beard tied up in a rubber band like a pirate. “You dance when they want you to dance. And you smile when they want you to smile. An’ always be polite. Yes sir. No sir. ‘Cause if you don’t, off you go to Twin Towers.”
The tramp with the beard scrutinized Lula and then Tyler.
“You I trust,” he gestured to Tyler. “You,” he pointed at Lula, “not so much.”
“You don’t know me,” she retorted angrily.
“That’s just it,” replied the man with a high-pitched giggle. “I don’t know you.”
The man with the cigarette stepped away, as did the other tramps, leaving Tyler and Lula alone with the man with the pirate beard.
“We’re looking for someone,” explained Tyler.
“Ain’t we all? I been looking for Ozymandias these forty years. Still lookin’.”
“They said you hear and see everything,” replied Tyler, wondering if the man was mistaking Jesus for someone called Ozymandias.
“Seein’ as I’m blind in one eye and deaf in one ear, I’m flattered,” he answered, his serious expression dissolving into more giggles.
“I meant the collective. All of you.”
“’Cause you must be lookin’ for Faye Rand.”
“No, her name is Laurel Harrington.”
“No, it’s Faye Rand you need. Find her and you find your Laurel Harrington.”
“Laurel’s a flatworlder like me.”
“There’s no flatworlders. There’s just folks. They can divide us up all they want but it don’t change who we are.”
“’Suppose you think you know everything,” observed Lula with a smirk.
“I know ‘about you and your reputation ain’t much to speak of.”
“I don’t need to listen to this,” said Lula, turning and walking back to Pershing Square. Tramps appeared out of the shadows, as if to block her passage. She hesitated.
“I’m not your prisoner,” she howled, turning on the man with the pirate beard.
“It’s for your own good,” answered the man. “You got too big a mouth on you not to wind up at Twin Towers too.”
Lula glowered.
“You look familiar,” noted the bearded man, “but it ain’t you.”
“Magus? He brought me here and they took him away.”
“They never been able to lock him away for long,” mused the man before turning to Tyler. “Then you’re no stranger here.”
“I’ve never been here before.”
“If Magus was here, you was here, whether you remember it or not. That’s why there’s no such thing as flatworlders. If you’re here, you’re meant to be here. What’s your name?”
“Tyler Hackett,” answered Tyler. The man with the beard gave the name considerable thought, as if he were trying to remember something.”
“And what’s your name?” asked Lula of the man.
“Wallace King,” he answered.
Lula smirked before erupting into laughter.
“So you’re the king then,” she exclaimed, still laughing. “And to think you’re …” she added, trailing off.”
“I’m what?” answered Wallace. “Dusky hued? Which means I got no business tellin’ others what to do? Though we got no hierarchy. You know that. What we do got is human dignity and we got it in spades. You see, ‘cause spades is black and we’re all black here so’s they don’t see us, which is just the way I like it.”
“You don’t know what I was gonna say,” answered Lula, scowling.
“I know you don’t speak to the likes of me, but how do I know you so well, Lula Mars, wishin’ Rex would stop pinin’ for Faye Rand and pine for you like he once did.”
“Who told you this?” demanded Lula, furious.
“Sometimes people forget how transparent they can be,” answered Wallace with a grin.
“Do you know where we can find Faye?” asked Tyler.
“Lula knows,” answered Wallace. “She owes you some honesty.”
“I’m asking you,” added Tyler, in no frame of mind to go fishing for answers.
“You think I know all there is to know? You think Don Diego rights every wrong?”
“You said Lula knows.”
“Because we saw her with Faye not two days ago, so you’d best be askin’ her not me. I’m half blind, don’t you know?”
Tyler turned to Lula. Her gaze was cast to the ground.
“I saw her. I followed her. But I never spoke to her. You think she listens to me?”
Lula turned her gaze to Tyler.
“She’s with Murdoch now. You won’t get her back. He’s got something over her so she helps him out. She got away once but she walked right back to him, as always. She made her choice. She chooses him and she can have him. But he won’t let her go again.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’re wastin’ your time,” she answered with a sneer.
“Then I might as well go home,” decided Tyler.
“You ain’t here for nothin’,” explained Wallace. “No one ever comes here for nothin’”
“What am I supposed to do? If I look for her, I’ll probably get thrown in jail. And even if I find her, she says there’s no taking her from this man, whatever his name is.”
“You know why they don’t like Flatworlders?” asked Wallace.
Tyler shook his head.
“’Cause they can do things we folks can’t. ‘cause they knows how to get flat when everyone else keeps round. And round gets you noticed.”
“Whatcha lookin’ at me for? I got plenty of admirers who tell me my figure’s still perfect.”
“Like I said, I’m half blind,” answered Wallace with a broad grin. “But you got a lot to learn about keepin’ flat.”
“You make no sense,” answered Lula, dismissing Wallace by turning her back to him.
It almost made sense to Tyler, and yet he felt powerless and lost. He had no special ability to flatten, which Tyler took to mean disappearing.
“You know why we’re here?” asked Wallace.
Tyler waited for a response.
“We don’t play by the rules. Not their rules anyway ‘cause their rules are only good for them, not for us. And we wizened up and said no thank you sir, we do things on our own from now on.”
“You’re just hidin’” said Lula.
“There’s no pretendin’ here. No deceivin’ either. You are what you are and you can’t convince anyone you ain’t.”
“I don’t need your protection,” countered Lula.
“You think the Blues are tightening the screws for a Flatworlder?” asked Wallace. “They’re cleanin’ house. And that means no coloreds, no reds, no winos and no whores. Old Town’s gonna be a clean town, everyone in their place mindin’ their own business. You heard the General.”
Lula, eyes closed, hung her head.
“But when Ozymandias comes back, we won’t have to hide no more.”
“You’ll have to wait a long time,” said Lula, her voice monotone.
“Maybe he come in a hundred years and maybe he come tomorrow.”
Lula shrugged.
“You know the prophecy of Ozymandias?” Wallace asked Tyler.
Tyler shook his head.
“He came and showed that everything was possible, and it was for a time, until we forgot. But he said that when all hope was lost, that he’d return and he’d make sure we’re as free as when he left us. But some men have notions that they can tell everyone what to do, and they build prisons so they got a place to put you when you don’t do what they tell you. But that’s not what Ozymandias told us. He told us that no man’s another man’s inferior and that we all deserve dignity, as it’s our natures to demand it.”
“He’ll come holding hands with Jesus,” mused Lula to herself.
“Even better,” replied Wallace with a grin. “Now maybe you all should get some sleep.”
“And where do we sleep?” asked Lula.
“Take your pick” gestured Wallace to the buildings on either side of the street, some of them hotels.
“I don’t have any money,” explained Tyler.
“That’s no matter. Just take your pick. The Belvedere’s got clean linen which is all you need.”
“You sleep up there?”
“They don’t ‘cause they’re filth and they know it,” answered Lula, seizing on an opportunity to hurt Wallace. “They chose this life just like I chose mine.”
Wallace closed his eyes, struck wordless for once.
“They say they got everything they want, but they got nothin’ and that’s the way they want it. They can call it freedom if they like but there’s no freedom when you can’t leave the Nickle and you got to sleep on bedrolls when you could be sleepin’ in a bed.”
Tyler turned to find that Wallace had disappeared, just as the others had done, like shadows, into the cracks in the pavement.
Lula grabbed Tyler by the hand, guiding him to the Belvedere. Her hand was cool to the touch and soft. He hated her high-pitched bloviating, and yet her touch was pleasing. If only she could keep silent for a minute.
The front door opened to a cramped lobby, a bell on a dusty desk. Tyler rang it, but no one appeared.
“You think anyone’s here?” asked Lula. “Come on.”
Lula was still holding his hand as he pulled the gate closed on the elevator, en route to the top floor.
The elevator doors had to be pulled open before Lula and Tyler could find a room.
“We don’t have keys,” noted Tyler.
“I don’t think we’ll need keys,” answered Lula, turning a doorknob. The door opened to a room with creaky floor boards and a draft whistling through an open window.
They tried other rooms until they found one that invited sleep. Lula claimed one side of a noisy mattress. She gestured him over.
Tyler tried the sink but there was no running water; although he didn’t feel thirsty in the least. Turning, he saw Lula smiling, batting her eyelids as she patted the mattress.
“Now you have your own place,” she said with a sly smile. “All you need is money, though I take I.O.Us., with interest of course. A girl’s gotta make a living.”
“I’m not interested in that,” he answered, although he would have preferred the intimacy.
“You’re not a poof, are you?”
“No, it’s just. You’re beautiful and all but sometimes a man just needs to sleep, you know?”
Lula chuckled. Standing, she grabbed him by the arm, guiding him to the mattress.
“No man wants to sleep when I’m in his bed,” she replied.
“Would you be so nice if you thought I wouldn’t pay you?” asked Tyler bluntly.
“Maybe there’s something to what they say about you flatworlders being powerful.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Lula caressed his arm before gently squeezing his neck.
“A girl’s got to be careful who she trusts. I didn’t know you, but I’m getting to know you, Mr. Tyler.”
“Tyler’s my first name,” he answered, his eyes closed as she massaged his shoulders. “Just call me Tyler.”
“My clients usually prefer to stand on formality. It’s more … anonymous.”
“I’m not a client.”
Lula pulled her hands from his shoulders.
“Then I guess you should find your own room,” she answered, coy as if expecting him to protest.”
Tyler opened his eyes and turned to Lula. “Who’s Murdoch?” he asked her.
“Oh, we’re gonna go on about that?” she asked, her habitual irritability returning. “Close the door when you leave.”
“I need to know,” insisted Tyler. “Who’s Murdoch?”
“A collector,” she answered. “Sometimes he likes collecting people. He’s filthy rich and he gets what he wants. Though some people would rather walk away from what they want just because they think a girl’s got no right to make a living.”
“I never said that. But it’s not why I’m here. If Faye knows how to find Laurel, then I’ve got to find Faye. It can’t be impossible.”
“Can I have ten minutes when I don’t have to hear her name?” asked Lula, exasperated.
“This Murdoch can’t keep me from talking to her,” noted Tyler.
“He’s a collector, but he’s also good at making people disappear. Faye’s his prized possession. You think he’ll assume you have trustworthy intentions?”
“She’s not a prisoner, is she?”
Lula chuckled, shaking her head. “Just get some sleep. I’ll tell you more in the morning.”
Tyler hesitated. He was wary of empty promises. He needed a plan, but there could be no plan without facts to formulate it. But what facts could he trust?
Lula stood up and began to undress.
“Can a lady get a little privacy or you waitin’ to see what you’ve been missin’?
With her back turned, she unsnapped her brassiere, her ample breasts visible from the door.
“Good night,” he said before closing the door. He could hear her chuckling to herself. He wouldn’t have minded a little rough and tumble, but Lula was complicated; and who knew what he’d be beholden to provide.
Finding another room, he swatted the bed, choking on dust until it resettled. Climbing under the covers, he wondered if Lula would disappear before telling him everything she knew. He reminded himself to get up early. He would have continued to plan his morning if he hadn’t fallen asleep.
