She simply could not think of a thing to say. Laura gave her one last smile and then walked out the door, letting it close behind her.
Madres de Dios, she thought. How do I get myself into these situations?
Chapter 9: Lost Wages
September 26, 1996
Las Vegas, Nevada
Jake and his Tsunami Sound Festival band members were all put up in luxury suites at the Caesars Palace Hotel and Casino on the Las Vegas strip courtesy of Music Alive. The members of his crew, however, were not included in the deal. He had twelve people on his crew, all of them people he had worked with before, either as part of Celia’s last tour or in the Intemperance days. It would be they who would do the assembly and tear down of the equipment, run the soundboard during his portion of the show, hand him and the other musicians their instruments when it was time to switch during the performance, and generally make sure that Jake’s performance was all that it should and could be. He could have paid them minimum wage and housed them two to a room in some sleazy off-strip roach motel and they would have been perfectly happy, but Jake believed in treating those who worked for him fairly and generously. He was paying them twenty-five dollars an hour for the time they were actually working on show-related business and had arranged for all of them to have private rooms in the same hotel he was staying in. In addition, he was picking up the tab for all of their meals and had given all of them a thousand dollars in casino credit for drinks and gambling.
The crew had ridden by chartered luxury bus to Las Vegas, leaving at noon and arriving at the hotel at 4:30. Since Jake had arranged for an open bar on the bus, all of them were already hammered by the time they checked into their rooms. As for the band, Phil, Lenny, Ben, Ted, and Natalie all flew to Las Vegas on a 3:05 flight out of Burbank Airport in first-class commercial seats that Music Alive had paid for. Though their time in the airport and in the air was less than two hours, they too managed to get a pretty good head start on their Vegas partying. Jake, Gordon, Pauline (who was doing soprano backup singing for him and was nervous as hell about her first live performance), Obie (who was not performing, but wanted to see Pauline sing) and the Nerdlys (who Jake had recruited to dial in his sound and oversee the multi-track recording of the show which he had negotiated the right to do and exploit as part of his agreement to perform) flew in Jake’s new plane from Whiteman to Henderson Executive Airport just south of the city. Jake was unable to pregame because he was piloting, but his passengers all made good use of the now-stocked bar in the aircraft during the trip.
The six of them rode in a limousine from Henderson to Caesars Palace and checked in at the private, high-roller desk on the second floor just after five o’clock in the afternoon. They were given their room key cards and asked if they would like to sign for casino credit for their gaming enjoyment during their stay.
“Goddamn right I do,” Obie told the young, extremely attractive desk clerk. “I’ll take fifty grand.”
“Me too,” Pauline said—she somehow already had a drink in her hand.
“Put me down for fifty,” Jake said. He was not a big gambler, but, when in Vegas...
“Better put me down for seventy-five to start,” said G. He was a big gambler, and this was not his first trip to the high roller section.
“And what about you, Mr. and Mrs. Archer?” she asked the Nerdlys.
“We will decline the offer,” Nerdly told her.
“Decline?” asked G. “What’s up with that shit, Nerdly? I’ll show you how to shoot some craps.”
“I already know how to do that,” Nerdly said. “And craps does statistically give you the most favorable odds of success of all the various games of chance in the casino, but those odds are still in the favor of the house, which means they will eventually emerge victorious in the contest. Therefore, it is illogical to engage in the activity.”
“Does this guy know how to party, or what?” Jake asked, looking around to try to figure out where Pauline had scored her drink. It was time for him to start pregaming as well.
“I seem to remember a little gambling trip we made back in the day,” Pauline said with a smile. “I do not recall you thinking it illogical then.”
“It was not illogical then,” Nerdly said. “I was playing with Mindy Snow’s money, not my own. I had nothing to lose.”
“Good point,” Pauline said, grimacing a little at hearing Mindy’s name mentioned. She was still getting phone calls from entertainment reporters about Mindy Snow and Greg Oldfellow and Grand Oldfellow and Celia’s thoughts on the matter.
The clerk offered to assign them their own private casino room on the third floor, but they declined on the grounds that none of them planned to spend that much time gambling. She then told them where the exclusive high-roller casino floor—available only to those who signed up for at least thirty thousand in credit or took out thirty thousand in casino chips—could be accessed. They all took note of this information, signed their casino credit agreements, and then headed to the elevators to go check out their rooms.
“I’m heading down to the floor as soon as we get our shit stowed,” Obie said. “Who’s with me?”
“You know I am,” Pauline said. “There’s a roulette table that I’m just itching to feed.”
“Me too,” said Jake. “I’m up for some blackjack and a few alcoholic beverages to start my evening.”
“I’ll be there too,” said G. “I think I’ll start with a little blackjack and then hit up the craps table.”
“What time do you all plan to have dinner?” asked Sharon. “Should we wait for you or just go ourselves?”
“How about around seven?” Jake suggested. “Celia and Laura will get here around nine o’clock or so and I’d like to have my food nice and settled before then—if you know what I mean.”
“Ahh yes,” said Nerdly. “You will obviously want to engage in vigorous marital relations with Laura after going so long without them.”
“Damn right,” Jake said.
“That’s a policy your mother would approve of, Jake,” Obie said with a grin. “Always wait at least an hour after eating before you go in.”
Jake chuckled. He had a little bit of anticipatory stage fright brewing in the back of his mind, but, in general, he was happily anticipating performing tomorrow, was even more happily anticipating the reunion with his wife in a few hours, and was in an overall good mood.
“Are you sure she is going to want to get it on?” Pauline asked. “The two of them are going to be wasted after flying all the way from Poland to Las Vegas after finishing up their last show the night before, not to mention being jetlagged as all hell.”
“I have faith that Laura’s need for satisfaction will outweigh her jetlag and fatigue,” Jake said confidently. “Does seven o’clock dinner work for everyone?”
Everyone agreed that it worked for them. They boarded the elevator and rode up to the top floor together. Fifteen minutes later, Jake, Pauline, Obie, and G all met at the main entrance to the high-roller casino floor. The armed security guard at the entrance scanned their key cards, saw they were allowed inside, and permitted them entry.
The casino floor was maybe three thousand square feet in size, though looked much bigger thanks to the mirrors that lined every wall. Unlike the normal casino floor where the riffraff played, there were only a few slot machines and poker machines here. These were clustered together in one corner and the minimum bet for all of them was ten dollars per play. No one was playing on them at the moment. Most of the room was filled with gaming tables; blackjack, roulette, craps, pai-gow, and baccarat; upon which the minimum bet was five hundred dollars. There were perhaps two dozen gamblers in the room, a few of them musicians who would be playing at the TSF tomorrow or Sunday, most of them older people unknown to Jake. There were no clocks on the walls. There were no windows to the outside. The lighting was uniform and would remain so twenty-four hours every day. There was a light haze of cigarette smoke in the air and the smell of a cigar or two. A trio of scantily clad, extremely attractive cocktail waitresses circulated about between the bar and the customers, serving drinks and enduring without protest the occasional hand stroking their bare legs. All of the tables were staffed by at least one dealer. Two bartenders manned the bar—one an extremely attractive woman, one an extremely attractive man.