by James Swain
He bought a pack and they went outside. The Camaro was parked by the entrance, windows down, the blaring rap music loud enough to stir the dead. Ike and T-Bird occupied the front seat, playing chauffeur because he’d asked them to.
He helped Mags into the backseat. She lived on the east side of town in a town house development. The drive was short. As Ike pulled into the driveway, Billy glanced up and down the street, just to make sure no gaming agents were hanging around.
He walked Mags to the front door. She was fighting to stay awake and struggled to get the key into the front door. She invited him inside, and he heard an urgency in her voice that caught him by surprise. They entered the foyer. The door slammed behind him.
“I want you to stay,” she said.
“I can’t do that.”
“Not even for a little while?”
“No. You need to rest up. You took a real beating tonight.”
“I really want to run with you, Billy. We’ll make a good team.”
He’d been sincere when he’d asked Mags to join his crew. It seemed out of the question now, considering what he knew. Her days as a grifter were over. She needed to find another line of work, go back to school, get a degree in a profession that paid the bills. Anything but this.
“Let’s talk about this in a couple of days,” he said.
“You’re not backing out, are you?”
“Of course not.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, and kissed him on the mouth with everything she had. She had smoked a cigarette in the car, and the menthol taste did a wicked number on his head. When their lips parted, he could hardly breathe.
“Why won’t you stay?” she asked. “Don’t I turn you on?”
“I just can’t,” he said, the words unconvincing.
“You never forgot that day in Providence, or me.”
“I’ve got to beat it.”
“Admit it. You want me so bad your pants are about to burst.”
“Not tonight.”
“You’d better not stand me up on Sunday, or I’m going to hunt you down.”
Her eyelids had turned heavy and she could barely stand up. He guided her through the town house to the master bedroom and made her lie down on a bed covered with a collection of teddy bears. She was asleep within moments of her head landing on the pillows.
He found a blanket on the top shelf of the closet and covered her, then stood beside the bed and drank in the sight of her for the very last time. She was the definition of everything he found beautiful in a woman. Never seeing her again was the right thing to do, even if it was going to tear him apart.
“You take care of yourself,” he whispered.
He walked out of the town house and locked the front door behind him. He needed to wash away the memories with a few stiff drinks. Ike and T-Bird were chilling in the driveway, and he offered to buy them dinner. They climbed into the Camaro with Billy riding shotgun. Ike fired up the engine and backed out of the drive.
“What are you gents in the mood for?” he asked.
“You’ve got some explaining to do first,” Ike said.
“About what?”
“That shit at the campsite. Me and T think you’re trying to pull a fast one on us.”
Before Billy could explain, Ike cuffed him in the mouth, and the car took off.
FORTY-FIVE
Ike and T-Bird took turns smacking him around inside the car. A slap in the face, a poke in the back of the head, all the usual fun stuff. The beatings were getting old, and he raised his arms protectively to shield his face from a cheap shot.
Finally the beating ended. Being of diminutive stature, he’d taught himself to fight with whatever objects happened to be handy, and the car’s cigarette lighter was just itching to get shoved into Ike’s eye. But he didn’t do it. One day, he’d pay them back in spades, but not today. Today, he needed them to help him rip off Galaxy’s casino, and he repeated his offer to buy them dinner, thinking a few slabs of bleeding red meat might settle them down. He suggested a fancy Brazilian restaurant tucked away on East Flamingo called Fogo de Chão.
“What kinda food do they serve?” Ike asked.
“Bleeding red meat. It’s one of the best steakhouses in town,” he said.
“I can always eat a steak. What do you say, T?”
“If he’s buying, I’m flying,” the bird man said.
Fogo was one of the town’s better meateries, bolstered by a waitstaff willing to do backflips to get your order right. Billy bribed the host into seating them at a table away from the other parties, and a waiter dressed in a gaucho outfit went over the specials before taking their orders. Ike chose the beef ancho, T-Bird the costela de porco, which were fancy names for rib eye and pork ribs, while he ordered a traditional filet mignon. Soon their drinks came.
“You guys must really enjoy beating me up,” he said.
“We don’t appreciate being messed with,” Ike said.
There was real menace in Ike’s voice. Billy proceeded cautiously.
“Messing with you how?”
“What happened at the campsite, where you faked shooting that bitch. You’ve got some kind of side deal going with her, don’t you?”
“Her name’s Mags. She’s a grifter I met back in Providence when I was a kid. I ran into her the other night in the casino and told her to stay away. She came back anyway, and Crunchie busted her. You know the rest. To answer your question, no, I don’t have a side deal going with her. We’re just old acquaintances.”
Ike put his elbows on the table. He had an enormous wingspan, and it was easy to imagine him scooping up defenseless quarterbacks and throwing them savagely to the ground.
“Do I look like I was born last night? Me and T saw what happened. She jumped into the grave when you faked pumping a bullet in her head. It was staged. You guys are a team.”
“We’re not a team. It was spur of the moment,” he said emphatically. “Look, I’m not trying to double-cross you, if that’s what you guys are thinking.”
“Then how’d the bitch know to jump in the grave? Answer me that.”
“I cued her.”
“Say what?”
“I gave her a verbal cue. When you led Mags across the campsite, I turned her around and whispered in her ear. That’s when I told her to jump in the grave.”
“Your mouth touched her ear for a half a fucking second. You’re trying to tell me that’s when it happened? There was no prior conversation?”
“That’s right. I said, ‘Jump in the grave,’ and she played along.”
“That’s the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“Man’s messing with us,” T-Bird said under his breath.
The conversation had taken a brutal turn and Billy knew that he’d lost their trust. Without trust, there could be no partnership, and the scam would die before it ever got off the ground. He decided to start the conversation over, from the beginning, and bring them back into the fold.
“You guys want to hustle, right?” he asked.
“What kind of question is that? You know we do,” Ike said.
“All right, then hear me out. To hustle you have to be able to gain a person’s trust and get them to play along with you. It isn’t easy, yet hustlers do it all the time. It’s what separates the men from the boys. Want to know what the secret is?”
“Lay it on us.”
“You have to know what a person’s thinking. That’s not as hard as it sounds. I’ll give you an example. I’m standing under the clock tower outside the Providence railroad station hustling fake watches for fifty bucks a pop. The watches resemble expensive Swiss timepieces, only the inner workings are as sophisticated as a rubber band. Suddenly, a sucker comes toward me, holding the fake watch I just sold him. Stupid bastard dropped it on the ground and the back�
��s popped off and he’s seen it’s junk. So what’s he thinking?”
“He’s mad, and he’s going to call the cops,” Ike said.
“You’re half-right. He’s mad, but he isn’t calling the cops. If he were going to call the cops, he’d stay a safe distance away from me. Try again.”
“He wants his money back.”
“That’s right. He’s mad, and he wants his money back. You just figured out the two things that were on his mind. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Easy as pie,” Ike said.
“So what do I do?”
“Give him a refund.”
“In front of the other suckers and risk exposing myself? No way. I stick my hand into my pocket where I keep my wad, peel two fifties off the roll, and palm them in my hand. I bring my hand out of my pocket and stick the money into the sucker’s palm as I shake his hand. The other suckers think we’re friends. I whisper in his ear. I say, ‘Play along.’”
“Did he keep his mouth shut?”
“Damn straight he did. He paid fifty for the watch, got a hundred back. He just made a one hundred percent return on investment. He goes home happy. End of story.”
A trio of waiters brought their meals to the table with the precision of a military exercise. The meats were cooked to perfection, the smells mouthwatering. Ike and T-Bird picked up their cutlery and dug in. He had hooked them with a story from his youth. Now came the hard part, which would be to reel them in. He ignored his meal and watched them eat.
Ike finished his rib eye in record time and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. The look on his face was skeptical. “You ever try this in a casino? You know, during a scam.”
“I use it all the time,” he said.
“How’s that work?”
He glanced furtively over his shoulder. None of the waitstaff were near the table, but he did it anyway, just for the effect. “It’s Friday night, and I’m scamming Planet Hollywood at roulette. The ball falls, and one of the ladies in my crew deliberately places a late bet. The croupier sees her and says, ‘Lady, you can’t do that!’ The croupier slides her late bet back to her. He does this real deliberately, so everyone can see he’s got things under control.
“At the same time, the other lady in my crew makes a second late bet. She’s sitting next to the red-black boxes on the layout, and she drops five hundred on the red, which happens to be the color that just won. No one sees a thing because they’re preoccupied watching the croupier. His movements block out her movements. The scam’s totally invisible.
“Suddenly, a little old lady standing next to me says ‘Holy crap’ under her breath. She’s seen the whole thing. So what’s she thinking?”
Ike rubbed his chin in thought. “She’s thinking, shit, I wish that was me.”
“You nailed it. What tipped you off?”
“’Cause she didn’t broadcast it.”
“There you go. If she’d wanted to expose us, she’d have said it out loud. So I slipped a few hundred in chips into her hands, and I whispered, ‘Be nice.’ When you whisper to a stranger, you’re making them an accomplice. She walked away with a big smile on her puss.”
“Very cool,” Ike said.
“Think about what happened at the campsite. I knew what Mags was thinking as you brought her toward me. She’s praying I wouldn’t shoot her. When I whispered ‘Jump in the grave,’ her prayers came true, and she played along.”
“But what if she hadn’t played along?” T-Bird said. “What then?”
“They always do. You just need to play it cool, and they’ll come around.”
He was done talking and ate his now cold filet while watching the punishers converse with their eyes. Eyebrows arched up, eyebrows down, a few short snorts, each man speaking his mind. Ike was sold, the jury still out for the bird man. They both needed to be on board if he was going to rob Galaxy’s casino, and he raised his arm and clicked his fingers.
Their waiter hustled over. “Is everything to your satisfaction?”
He waved the waiter closer and whispered to him. The waiter nodded and left. To T-Bird he said, “I just told our waiter it’s your birthday. Just watch. He’s going to bring out a piece of cake with a candle and get the entire staff to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you.”
“Did you ask him to do that?” the bird man asked.
“I didn’t have to.”
“Then how you know he’s going to?”
“Because our waiter thinks we’re high rollers. I could tell by the way he served us and how overly polite he’s been. Our waiter thinks that if he takes extra special care of us, we’re going to take care of him, so he’s going to pull out all the stops.”
“A cake with a candle and everybody in the fucking kitchen singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to little ole me, and you didn’t tell him to,” T-Bird said skeptically.
“That’s right.”
“You’re messing with us again.”
“Bet you I’m right. Loser picks up the tab.”
“You’re on.”
Sixty seconds later, their waiter returned to their table holding a dessert plate containing a slice of molten chocolate cake with a lit white sparkler on top, which he placed in front of a slack-jawed T-Bird. The rest of the waitstaff appeared and gathered round the table, along with the female bartender, both the cooks, and a gang of grinning busboys. On the count of three, they broke into a rousing rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ sung in Portuguese while enthusiastically clapping their hands. By the time they were done, every diner in the restaurant was applauding, and Ike was laughing his fool head off.
FORTY-SIX
While T-Bird settled the tab, Billy waited outside. It was a faultless night, and he watched a jet pass beneath the stars. He couldn’t remember ever gazing up and not seeing a plane. With the same ferocious determination of lemmings, suckers flocked to Vegas to gamble their money away. One day, they were going to collectively wake up and realize the town was a big scam. Until that happened, he’d ride the wave along with everyone else.
His Droid vibrated. Ly calling. The late hour spelled trouble. If she hadn’t been his friend’s girlfriend, he wouldn’t have taken the call.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Gaming agents come to motel looking for me,” she said. “They bang on everyone’s door, tell people open up. I climb out bathroom window, hide by pool. Finally they leave.”
“Tell the manager to move you to another room.”
“You tell him. I scared.”
“Come on, work with me.”
“You want gaming board to arrest me? Maybe I tell them how we cheat Slots A Fun. I bet they like to hear about that.”
Blackmail. As if he didn’t have enough problems right now. He told her to hold tight and ended the call. Ike and T-Bird came outside. He sensed a subtle change in them. They’d accepted the fact that they were clueless and needed to do what he said.
“I need you to cover for me for a few hours,” he said.
“No problem,” Ike said.
Ike took Flamingo to Koval and pulled into the motel parking lot where Ly was holed up. Billy checked for unmarked vehicles and saw none. As he started to get out, Ike stopped him.
“Me and T want to hear details about tomorrow’s scam,” Ike said.
“Yeah, like what are we supposed to do?” T-Bird asked.
He’d purposely avoided talking about details, knowing they’d wake up tomorrow having forgotten. It was the problem when you worked with morons.
“I’ll go over the details tomorrow over breakfast,” he said. “Just make sure you get a good night’s sleep. You need to be on your toes.”
“Sleeping’s never been a problem.” Ike shot T-Bird a disgusted look.
“That’s not funny,” T-Bird said.
Billy didn’t want to hear anymore, and jumped out. T
he Camaro roared away. He took another look around the parking lot before approaching Ly’s room and tapping on the door.
“It’s me, open up,” he said.
She let him in. She’d lost the dealer’s uniform and wore tight-fitting designer jeans, a sleeveless pink top, and a gold necklace with a crouching-tiger ornament.
“Any sign of the gaming agents?” he asked.
“There were no gaming agents,” she replied.
“Then why’d you call me?”
She gave him a kick in the nuts. Pools of black opened before his eyes, and it took all his willpower not to go down. The lost snapshot of Mags’s daughter lay on the dresser, and he guessed it had gotten stuck in the money he’d given her.
“I hate you! You ruin my life!” she exclaimed.
“You’re the one who wanted to cheat casinos,” he gasped.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were piece of shit.”
“I saved your ass, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, then you leave me in this dump, go play around with other girl. Fuck you!”
The snapshot had set her off. He picked it up and waved it in Ly’s face.
“She’s the daughter of a woman I know. There’s nothing between us.”
“You lie. Billy Bullshit should be your name.”
“I’m not lying. And by the way, I’m not your boyfriend.”
She snatched the snapshot from his hand and tore it in half.
“I hate you,” she said again.
Women were complicated. There was nothing between them, yet Ly had gotten her feelings hurt. He needed to set her straight, so he took her outside to the pool, where they sat in lounge chairs by the water’s edge. Next to the diving board was a metal sign explaining all the reasons hotel guests weren’t allowed to swim at night. Ly still had the pieces of Amber’s graduation photo clutched in her hand.
“Her mother’s a grifter named Maggie Flynn,” he explained. “Mags got me started in the rackets. I ran into her the other night, and we had a drink and talked about her joining my crew. After she left, I found her daughter’s photo on the floor. I stuck it in my wallet and mistakenly gave it to you. That’s the story—okay?”
