Ti U ' u u - m r n p1 STORIES BY MICHAEL ZADOORIAN j J Also by Michael Zadoorian The Leisure Seeker Second Hand THE LOST TIKI PALACES OF DETROIT the lost of detroit stories by michael zadoorian w Wayne State University Press Detroit © 2009 by Wayne State University Press, Detroit, Michigan 48201. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without formal permission. Manufactured in the United States of America. 13 12 11 10 09 5 4 3 2 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Zadoorian, Michael. The lost tiki palaces of D etroit: stories / by Michael Zadoorian. p. cm. — (Made in Michigan writers series) ISBN 978-0-8143-3417-1 (pbk.: alk. paper) 1. Detroit (Mich.)—Fiction. I. Title. PS3576.A278L67 2009 813’.54— dc22 2008037300 This book is supported by the Michigan Council for Arts and Cultural Affairs. Designed by Brad Norr Design Typeset by Maya Rhodes Composed in Minion and Helvetica For Miss Rita contents Acknowledgments xi 1 west side 1 To Sleep ..........7 Dyskinesia ........ 18 War Marks ........ 33 The World of Things ........ 46 The Problem with Modell 2 east side 71 Hearts and Bones ..........75 Mystery Spot ..........89 The Listening Room ..........100 Noise of the Heart ..........117 3 downtown 137 Traffic Reports ........ 141 Process ..........158 Spelunkers ........ 169 The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit acknowledgments The stories in this collection have appeared in the following journals and anthologies: “To Sleep,” American Short Fiction; “Dyskinesia,” The Literary Review and Ararat; “War Marks,” “Hearts and Bones,” Beloit Fiction Journal; “The World of Things” and “Process,” The Literary Review; “Mystery Spot,” Panurge (UK), “Traffic Reports,” The PrePress Awards: Michigan Voices and Peregrine; “The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit,” Detroit Noir. The “West Side” prologue was published in Massacre (UK) under the title “308-810 (Dream Book).” The East Side and Downtown prologues were published in The North American Review under the titles “Camouflage” and “What Doesn’t Go Away.” Great Thanks and Respect to: Chris Leland; Sam Astrachan; Charlie Baxter; my editor, Annie Martin; my agent, Sally van Haitsma; Glenn Barr; my friends who have supported me for so long: DeAnn Forbes, Dave Spala, Keith McLenon, Lynn Peril, Tim Teegarden, Andrew Brown, Jim Dudley, Jim Potter, Luis Resto, Michael Lloyd, Terry Hughes, Gail Offen, Dave Michalak, Holly Sorscher, Tim Suliman, Mark Simon, Tony Park, Nick Marine (who is Tiki); my sister, Susan Summerlee; and to the memory of my mother and father, Norman and Rose Mary Zadoorian. The Mauna Loa, Trader Vic’s, and the Chin Tiki. R.I.P. Detroit turned out to be heaven, but it also turned out to be hell. Marvin Gaye west side fter a plane crash, people in Detroit play the number of the flight, hoping it will come in. I have never done that, but after flight 244 fell out of the sky, I dreamed about it. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I looked up the dream in my “Kansas City Kitty Dream Book” and found that the number for Crashlanding was 606. aI played it straight for $3 in the Daily. I guess I could have played it on the street too, but that makes me a little jumpy. Just as well, because I lost. I don’t really play all that much. But some days I just see numbers every­ where I look—license plates, digital clocks, receipts. The same numbers over and over. If I see 872 on a truck, I’ll remember that just an hour before, I got a receipt for $2.87. When that happens, I have to play it in the box. There’s nothing worse than your number coming in, but in the wrong order. Doing this, you get good with numbers. They become real for you. You know just what they mean, how far they can take you before you have to give up on them. (Like the number I cross off the calendar every night.) My mother was the same way. Only she didn’t give up on some numbers. She always used to look for my birthday on the bingo cards she chose. Then, after she set them up, she’d put lucky elephant charms all around the cards, along with a little embroidered picture of Mr. Peanut against a bunch of dancing numbers. “I’m A Bingo Nut,” it said. She departed this earth playing 43 cards. The priest said, “She would have wanted it that way.” All I know is that it never comes in when I play Mother-562. There’s an old Polish lady I see almost every day at the drugstore where I play. Even when I’m there just to pick up some cigarettes or a quart of Mickey’s, she’s there. Ciocia Clara with her babushka and a wad of tickets in 3 Parti her fist. She must play $8 or $9 worth a day. She tells me her dreams and they always have her kids in them. I don’t know how many times she’s told me to play Stanley-159 or Katty-999. Every week, I see Clara buying a “Skippy’s Lucky Lotto Success Candle.” Nothing but purple wax in a glass jar painted with money bags, a horn of plenty, and a big “Fast Luck” horseshoe magnet that uncrosses all the forces that keep you from winning. On the side, there’s a white space about an inch square where it says: “Write your Desire Here.” But it doesn’t look like any­ where near enough room. The drugstore has a whole section of good luck items— House Blessing Spray, Jinx Killers, 7 Holy Spirit Hyssop Oil. Once I bought a box of “DR. PRYOR’S alleged fast MONEY DRAWING brand INCENSE.” The directions tell you to “Read Psalm 23 in the night while the incense is burning.” They even give you a copy of Psalm 23 in the box. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not w a n t. ..” etc., etc. On the back of the psalm is a tiny strip of paper with five different numbers on it. The night I bought the incense, I had a dream about it. I dreamed that I had a step van full of incense and was driving down my street, delivering it to every house. They all had special doors in the back where I would shovel the incense. Then, the people came out of their houses and gave me money. I kept sneezing in the dream. I remember because when I blew my nose, what was on the handkerchief was bright green. The next day, I played Incense-231 and lost $7. The number was 466. Just for the hell of it, I went home and looked up handkerchief. It was 646. At least that proves what I said about playing it in the box. Sometimes when I open the dream book, I can’t believe all the things people dream about: Slaughterhouse-104, Haberdasher-992, Fetus-369, Cat- echism-870, Grindstone-029, Herring-757, Thud-189.1 guess the idea is you never know what you’re going to dream about. Under my birthday horoscope 4 West Side in the dream book (745-957-842), it says: “Are neat in personal appearance. You value intuition more than intellect. You are willing to let things happen.” There have been times when I’ve dreamed about myself, Victor-987. I know it is about me because there’s nothing else in the dream. I’m just stand­ ing there, looking at the top of my wrist, running my hand through my hair. I am standing and standing. It is the most boring dream. And that number just will not fall. My wife tells me I am crazy to waste our money playing numbers. She probably is right. But she hasn’t complained when a number of mine comes in. One night, I had a dream where she and I were sleeping. I wake up and find some little animal running around our bed. I catch it in a sack and we both take it outside. In front of our house, there is a freeway. (This part is not true at all. 1-75 is behind us.) I throw the sack under the wheels of a passing semi. I never really knew what kind of animal it was, so I played Truck-319, both straight and boxed, and won $496. She didn’t laugh at the dream book for some time after that. Once in a while, I’ll go to the store to play a number from a dream, let’s say, Run-413.1 get there and find two other people in line playing the same number. And one of them will know two other people who are playing it. I think maybe this happens all over the city, because in a couple of days, I’ll see my number on the green sheet that lists that month’s “hot” numbers. Some­ times, everyone at the drugstore is playing the same numbers, like we’re all dreaming the same. If the number falls, the drugstore is handing out money all night long (not to mention half-pints of Boot’s, Bar-cardi, and Easy Jesus). On the inside back cover of the “Kansas City Kitty Dream Book” is a drawing that looks like it’s from the 1940s. An old diner, filled with black folks dressed in razor-sharp zoot suits, with shiny conk haircuts. There are 5 Parti numbers everywhere in the diner— on the walls and floor, on a box of corn flakes, on the waitress’s behind while she flirts with a customer, on the cook’s hat as he scowls at her from his smoky kitchen, on the tablecloths and backs of chairs, even on the sign that says: NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YORE HATS OR COTES.