“Why don’t we go back to my room and have a party?” Jessie said, “I think I know just what you need.”
Her room was small, enough space for a bed, dresser, and a small writing table. She had a bathroom that she shared with the girl next door. Through the walls came the squeak of bedsprings and a man moaning. “Now, what kind of party would you like?” Jessie said, pointing to a small microphone in the corner of the ceiling.
“I don’t know, you’re the pro, what do you think?”
“How about we do a half and half for two-fifty?”
“Sounds fun,” I said, trying to sound excited.
“Drop your pants, I have to check your tool, health code.” I did as told and stood like a piece of meat for inspection. She raised an eyebrow when she saw all my scars. “You’ve had a rough life,” she said, then lifted my limp penis and inspected it closely. “Ok. I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.” She took my bills and went out to pay the cashier. The girls split the money fifty-fifty with the house. In the bathroom I found a bowl of cotton balls and some Band-Aids next to an industrial size bottle of Betadine. Stepping up on her chair I bandaged a cotton ball over the microphone. When she returned I said I’d like a little music, to get in the mood. She turned a small radio on and tuned in a country station. Willie Nelson was singing about an angel flying too close to the ground. I pointed to the job I’d done on the microphone and Jessie smiled. “You’re one smart cookie. Not that it matters, but are you a cop?”
“No, just a man trying to find a friend.” Pulling my pants down again she kneeled between my legs, letting her bleached blonde hair fall over my lap.
“Just in case someone comes in,” she said. From the door it would look like she was taking care of business. “Cass was a sweet girl, tough as nails but not catty like the others. She didn’t hit on other girls’ regulars or any of the other crap most of these skanks do.”
“How long was she here?”
“About two months. I remember she was here for a big Easter party we threw for a busload of Japanese businessmen. She and I did a double for this one skinny dude. You sure you don’t want me to relieve a little tension while we talk? I mean, you paid for it and all.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What, stroke you? You like it, I can tell.”
“I’m not a John. I really just need help finding Cass.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank heaven for small favors.” She sighed looking up at me. “I get so tired of dick. Dick for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And sometimes dick for a midnight snack. On my day off I can’t even look at a hot dog, swear to god.” Her eyes sparkled with good humor.
“Rough life.”
“It isn’t digging a ditch, but sometimes it feels like it.”
“Are you going to tell me about Cass?”
“Ok, you’re not with the mob and you’re not a cop, I can tell, want to know how?”
“How?”
“You didn’t fuck me first and then ask your questions. Power boys always have time to get their nuts off. So here it is, a week or so ago, two guys in classy suits showed up, Cass took one look at them and slipped out of the lobby. Ditching lineup is a firing offense, but some girls do it, say they had to pee or some bullshit. They picked Venus and Gwen, two young girls with monster fake tit jobs. Afterwards, Gwen said the whole time the guy was fucking her, he was asking about Cass. She played dumb like she had never heard of Cass, she figured he had big bucks and maybe she could become his regular. She said he liked it rough, slapping her ass while he pumped her. She also said he had a gun in his jacket.”
“What did these guys look like?” I asked.
“Goombas, Vegas mob boys, dark hair, Italian features, you know the look. We better move on to the bed.” I took off my shirt and lay back on the bed. She slipped out of her dress. She had a strong tanned body with flesh in all the right places, she lay on top of me. Our naked bodies pressed together, she raised up onto her elbows, bouncing her hips so the bed squeaked softly. I knew there was no love, not even very much attraction between us, but put a body on a body and the blood wants what the blood wants. I could feel myself stiffen as her beasts rubbed against my chest.
“What happened to Cass?” I was fighting for concentration.
“The next morning, she wasn’t at breakfast, and that was weird because as skinny as she was, that girl could eat. I went to her room to check on her but she was gone. She must have slipped out in the night. Maybe the night manager would know, but when I asked her, she said it was none of my business. You building a house?”
“What?”
“You’re packing some serious timber. Sure you don’t want me to handle it?” She said dully, it sounded like she was offering to fix my drywall.
“No, really. Do you have any ideas where she might have gone?”
“If I was to guess, I’d say she went up north. She had heard from some of the girls about a house in the mountains outside of Reno. The Eagle’s Nest, a much smaller place, off the beaten track, serves mostly locals.”
Climbing off her, I thanked her for the information and got dressed. She told me with a laugh that leaving a man stiff hurt her professional pride. She also told me if I found Cass to send her her love. I walked back through the lobby and none of the girls even looked up. Whatever cash I had was spent, so I was of no use to any of them. Back in the Crown Vic, I took a long breath. I wondered what had kept me from screwing Jessie, it wasn’t like me to pass up sexual favors. In the rearview mirror I caught Marilyn staring at me with her pouting red lips. Was I keeping myself pure for a dead girl? Had the talk around the club about us bugged me because it was true? Had I waited too long to discover what I really felt for Kelly wasn’t just friendship? I slammed the Crown Vic into gear and spun out of the parking lot, spraying gravel in a fan out behind me.
Down the road I found an open liquor store and bought a half pint of Seagrams and a bottle of ginger ale. I mixed the drink in a paper cup in the car. The booze quieted my brain down. All those unanswered questions weren’t going to help me find what I was looking for. I had to keep focused. I crunched a white crisscross with my teeth. I’d bought a bag of cheap, homemade speed from Billy the DJ before leaving town. It tasted bitter and nasty but I knew it would get the job done, so I crunched another. Unfolding a map I discovered that Reno was three hundred and forty miles up Highway 95. I settled in for a long night’s cruise.
The timing on the suits showing up at the Cock’s Roost was right. Maybe they found an address book, or maybe they made Kelly talk. The speed kicked in, giving me that rough jangle I knew so well. If the suits were looking for Cass, it meant I was on the right track. The sun rose over the barren countryside. On the dirt shoulder I poured the last of the Seagrams into a cup and chased two more tabs with it. It wasn’t enough to get me drunk, just enough to take the edge off the speed. In a pasture beside the road a bunch of lazy cows watched me. Driving on, I bypassed Reno taking highway 80 toward Battle Mountain. I followed the signs up a small county road to the Eagle’s Nest. Just before the brothel I turned up a dirt road and parked in the tall pines. Dressed again in my jeans and tee-shirt I climbed a small scrub covered hill. Laying on my belly, I looked down at the Eagle’s Nest through a pair of army surplus binoculars. A tall chain-link fence surrounded a two-story farmhouse that looked like it might have been built at the turn of the century. The dove-gray paint was peeling. A large porch covered the front. It was around eight in the morning and I couldn’t see anyone moving inside. The sun felt warm and good on my back as it filtered down through the pine boughs. An hour later, I watched a muscular young man water the lawn and pull some weeds out of a rose bed up against the front porch. He pushed a hand mower across the grass. It was all so Norman Rockwell.
Four hours later, I awoke to a large crow cawing in the tree above. The sun overhead burned into my eyes, sending sparks exploding into my brain. There is nothing quite as much fun as a speed hangover. My entire nervous system felt toasted and I could taste something like burned wires in the back of my throat. I focused on my watch, it was one o’clock, I struggled to get my bearings. I was on my back on the hard packed dirt, I could feel pine needles in my hair. I had been in the middle of a dream I couldn’t shake, as if it was still overlapping the waking world. Kelly and I were riding my Norton in the Mexican countryside. I could feel her arms around me, the warm air rushing past us. As I continued to wake the dream broke down into fragments too small to hold onto. Kelly and I played in the surf on an empty beach. In the sand she turned to kiss me, but somehow she changed into a young Lebanese mother. Blood rolling from her chest she fell into the surf.