Louis stares at the three photographs directly across the bar from him. They are lined up vertically nailed into beams between shelves of liquor. Most anyplace in New York could be judged by its relationship to celebrity ass-kissing. Places you really want to be are those where you will see the celebrities but never a photo of them. From there it winds down through the scales of fame, starting with say a Polaroid of an ironically grinning Bill Murray in some Williamsburg hipster bar that he once crashed. Then it is a long slow slide until you get to a picture of Anthony Edwards from over a decade ago in some diner on the far east side of Midtown.
The celebrity photos at The Russian Teeth Room are as dissonant and cacophonous as the place's theme. George Clooney up at the top. Actual photo of him in the bar, looking tolerant, but clearly yearning to leave. The ones below are headshots. The middle one is signed, "Thanks a lot, Barbara Hershey." Whatever happened to her, anyway? The bottom one is so familiar, but also so unplacebale. It is older than the others and Louis knows the face, but he just can't pin down where he knows it from.
Han is talking to the Bartender/Hygenist. She has burst into tears. Some girl named Kat.
Who is that guy?
Louis is having a hard time concentrating. He has been drugged and hit in the head a lot over the past couple of days. Now it feels like his brain has been rearranged in entirely random order, like mixing up the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle to make it more challenging. At least, Han was apologetic about the last one. Is it that or something else? Something more basic.
Goddamn it, he knows that actor! What's his name?
Suddenly, Han is standing there. He says, "Izzy, leader of the Zionists for the Absolution of Nazis (ZANAZ)--a heretical Catholic organization attempting to hasten the Apocalypse by "saving" Nazis, converting them to Judaism, and sending them to Israel--has just been here. He has the teeth."
Louis wonders if that would sound like complete babble to anyone or only to someone who has the kind of brain damage that he must have at this point. Or maybe it isn't brain damage. Maybe there is only so long, physically, any human being can focus on a single thing. Even if that thing is finding your sister. Maybe there is just a biological limit to concentration, then your brain forces itself elsewhere. Maybe. Brain damage is more likely, though.
That guy. Is he French?
Some people, celebrities, are so easy to find. Everyone is already looking for them. Louis wishes Zelda were famous. He would have so much help, then.
He looks around. The Russian Teeth Room. Another ridiculous New York novelty. Like the bar with the phone booths or The Box, where famous people and junior partners over-pay to masturbate in public. It is tiring, all of this crap. Always a new scheme to get people to spend money and always just layers of imitation and gimmick without substance. Always one more meaningless way to waste your time and money because that is all most people have in New York. Or Hollywood, where the people in these pictures are manufactured and shipped out to the buying public. The nation is book marked by slightly different expressions of hollowness. Manhattan and LA, like geographical quotation marks. The entire country is in air quotes.
As if no one really means it.
And the only thing Louis wants is to find Zelda, find somewhere to sit with his sister, find somewhere to have some time before there is no time left. Order a pizza. Watch some random movie, "The Breakfast Club" or "Speed" or "Braveheart," rebroadcast on some random basic cable station. A "House" marathon, for God's sake, while he and Zelda just sit and don't even talk. No more disembodied teeth, Hitler's or otherwise, and no ore shitty novelty bars.
Han grabs his shoulder. "Let's go."
Louis gathers his jigsaw thoughts and turns to follow Han. Just as he turns, the change in perspective makes it all clear. The guy in the picture is the guy who played LeBeau in "Hogan's Heroes." George Clooney, Barbara Hershey, and Robert Clary. In that order.
Louis turns to go after Han and feels something both crunch and squish under his foot. Cockroach. No wonder Clooney looks like he wants to leave.
