Read Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone for Free Online

the task of maintenance required focus. I emerged from her shadow and checked the surface – clean as a bald head.
    »Hand oil clogs the grooves,« I said. »Eats into the wax. Dig, I’m not just a packrat but a preservationist. Just call this place Preservation Hall.«
    I never saw two grown women look so stupefied and so annoyed at the same time, but I was rolling, and kept up the spiel. »Libraries toss these babies out with the bathwater. Orphans in the storm till those with a heart take ’em in. History in the hand, only place it won’t get away. These aren’t like LPs, these bleed. Scratch ’em and you cut out their tongue. Break ’em and one more gets thrown over the side.«
    My audience seemed to get my drift, so I segued before the yawns started. »Well, seat yourself, my dears. Let me tender some perky libations.« They both stepped into the living room and unsherpaed, putting their black bags on the floor. Big Girl plumped down on a chair my grandmother left me and her big keister smashed right through the rattan. She started wiggling but it looked like a no go situation. I was wondering what to tell the rescue squad when the chair frame cracked open like a pecan, and she hit the floor with a powerful thump.
    »Hurt?« asked Little Mod. Big Girl hauled herself up, frowned and kicked the two halves of the chair straight through the apartment into the kitchen. Didn’t want anyone to trip over them, I supposed. I didn’t so much appreciate her thoughtfulness as I did the fact that she hadn’t aimed the pieces at me.
    »Accidents happen,« I said. »Let’s try the divan.«
    Both of them sat down on the sofa. It moaned but didn’t take the gas pipe. »Let’s make with the labels, why don’t we?« I asked. »How do yours read?« They gave me a stare as if I was a chinaman and they were the new white slaves. Downright unsettling to see molls like these two showing the whim-whams. »Call me Walter. Walter Bullitt. What do they call you?«
    »Eulalia. Call me Eulie,« she said. »Walter.«
    »Euphonious indeed,« I said, and, still standing, bowed low to Big Girl. Didn’t imagine she’d let me kiss her hand. »My petit-four?«
    »Chlojo,« she rumbled.
    »Pardon?«
    »Chlo for Chloe,« Eulie said. »Jo for Josephine.« They gave each other a look, and nodded. »Chlojo.«
    »Music to my ears,« I said, judging that Eulie wasn’t the only one showing tell-tale traces of the woodpile. When it came to the colourbar Chlojo had hardly any coffee in the cream; but there was another story being told when it came to the superstructure. Impressed me that they seemed to feel so fancy free when it came to coming and going as they pleased. »Gals, my cat’s on its last life. You’d better fill me in on something …«
    »What?« Eulie asked.
    »Look, let me pledge my allegiance first. I’m no Royboy, there’s no tattletales here. The skin game leaves me cold and my sheets stay on the bed. But I can’t help but wonder about the bloodline I’m picking up on here. Tell me Big Momma, what boat’d Bigger Momma come over on?«
    Chlojo fisheyed me; then grinned, clam-happy to read the book without using the dictionary. Her teeth looked false but they also looked like they could bite through the Brooklyn phone book. »Jadish,« she said.
    »What?«
    »Swedish and Jamaican,« Little Mod explained.
    »Nice grouping,« I said; I can always spot the spots. Of course this was a talent anyone born to the colours knew in their bones: it was tricky to function in the modern world unless you could tell at first look how black white might really be. »I’m cool. Want to make sure you know you’re not the only ones with your hand in the tar.« They gave each other a quick corner look and then turned their gaze back to the main attraction. »You two on a diplomatic gig?«
    »Diplomatic?« Eulie asked.
    »I’d like to see the hotel clerk tell her no dogs need apply,« I said, pointing at Chlojo. She didn’t pick up my thread that