Read Online Women by Charles Bukowski - Free Book Online Page A

Monday am. We’ll start your training. Cigarettes are out. Put that son of a bitch out!”
    “Listen, man, I’m a writer. I use a typewriter. You never read my stuff?”
    “All I read is the metropolitan dailies—murders, rapes, fight results, swindles, jetliner crashes and Ann Landers.”
    “Dee Dee,” he said, “I’ve got an interview with Rod Stewart in 30 minutes. I gotta go.” He left.
    Dee Dee ordered another round of drinks. “Why can’t you be decent to people?” she asked.
    “Fear,” I said.
    “Here we are,” she said and drove her car into the Hollywood cemetery.
    “Nice,” I said, “real nice. I had forgotten all about death.”
    We drove around. Most of the tombs were above ground. They were like little houses, with pillars and front steps. And each had a locked iron door. Dee Dee parked and we got out. She tried one of the doors. I watched her behind wiggle as she worked at the door. I thought about Nietzsche. There we were: a German stallion and a Jewish mare. The Fatherland would adore me.
    We got back into the M. Benz and Dee Dee parked outside of one of the bigger units. They were all stuck into the walls in there. Rows and rows of them. Some had flowers, in little vases, but most of the blooms were withered. The majority of the niches didn’t have flowers. Some of them had husband and wife neatly side by side. In some cases one niche was empty and waiting. In all cases the husband was the one already dead.
    Dee Dee took my hand and led me around the corner. There he was, down near the bottom, Rudolph Valentino. Dead 1926. Didn’t live long. I decided to live to be 80. Think of being 80 and fucking an 18 year old girl. If there was any way to cheat the game of death, that was it.
    Dee Dee lifted one of the flower vases and dropped it into her purse. The standard trip. Rip off whatever wasn’t tied down. Everything belonged to everybody. We went outside and Dee Dee said, “I want to sit on Tyrone Power’s bench. He was my favorite. I loved him!”
    We went and sat on Tyrone’s bench next to his grave. Then we got up and walked over to Douglas Fairbanks Sr.'s tomb. He had a good one. His own private reflector pool in front of the tomb. The pool was filled with water lillies and pollywogs. We walked up some stairs and there at the back of the tomb was a place to sit. Dee Dee and I sat. I noticed a crack in the wall of the tomb with small red ants running in and out. I watched the small red ants for a while, then put my arms around Dee Dee and kissed her, a good long long kiss. We were going to be good friends.
    19
    Dee Dee had to pick up her son at the airport. He was coming home from England for his vacation. He was 17, she told me, and his father was an ex-concert pianist. But he’d fallen for speed and coke, and later on burned his fingers in an accident. He could no longer play the piano. They’d been divorced for some time.
    The son’s name was Renny. Dee Dee had told him about me during several trans-Atlantic telephone conversations. We got to the airport as Renny’s flight was disembarking. Dee Dee and Renny embraced. He was tall and thin, quite pale. A lock of hair hung over one eye. We shook hands.
    I went to get the baggage while Renny and Dee Dee chatted. He addressed her as “Mommy.” When we got back to the car he climbed into the back seat and said, “Mommy, did you get my bike?”
    “I’ve ordered it. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
    “Is it a good bike, Mommy? I want a ten-speed with a hand brake and pedal grips.”
    “It’s a good bike, Kenny.”
    “Are you sure it will be ready?”
    We drove back. I stayed overnight. Renny had his own bedroom.
    In the morning we all sat in the breakfast nook together waiting for the maid to arrive. Dee Dee finally got up to fix breakfast for us. Renny said, “Mommy, how do you break an egg?”
    Dee Dee looked at me. She knew what I was thinking. I remained silent.
    “All right, Renny, come here and I’ll show