In that ride to Northfield, across the channels and marshy islands, Teddy was thinking next time what he might do, try to keep the woman awake or semi-out till he started making love to her. Be doing it to her and then, right at the right moment, hit her over the head. But not with a beer bottle. He’d never use one again. He ought to have checked with certain people while he was at Raiford. Sit around in a circle on folding chairs and have a group session. He’d tell them when it was his turn: Rule number one, Put the money away first, before you start having fun. Else you could get carried away and forget it. He almost did.
Cedric, the head La Tuna, was waiting in the cement hallway back of the casino. He unlocked the storage room and there was Ricky on the floor between rows of slot machines, sitting with his head down, holding his arms to his body. He looked up slowly, his dead-eyed expression in place-until he saw Vincent.
DeLeon said, “Try to open his mouth, mmmm, it hurts him. Be cool, Ricky, we gonna take you to the hospital.”
Ricky kept staring at Vincent, trying to say something, find out what the hell was going on, and still look mean.
Vincent feeling just a little sorry for him, thinking, They work so hard at it. He said, “I bet Frank was surprised, huh? The cops ask why you did it, tell them it was a mistake.”
“Tell them somebody messed with your head,” DeLeon said, and looked at Vincent. “He’s gonna have a time even to give his name.”
“Maybe he should write it down,” Vincent said. “To whom it may concern. How I did the Ching.”
Ricky groaned something, a word, trying not to move his mouth.
Vincent said, “What was that, Rick? Speak up. Sounded like he said, ‘Bullshit.’ “
DeLeon said, “He can write it or I can fix it he has knee surgery while they wire his jaw.”
Vincent left them, walking out past Cedric with his aura of reefer, his sheen of serenity, Cedric calling DeLeon “Mon,” saying he was a joy, he was so fine…
Well, he wasn’t bad. A good one to have along. Vincent got on the elevator and pressed his floor and then held the button to make the door close and said, “Come on, let’s go.” It was almost 2:30 but seemed much earlier. He still hadn’t heard from Dixie. He’d give him a call and if Dix didn’t know where Teddy’s mom lived he’d tell him. In Margate. You believe it? Marvin Gardens, less than five miles away. The only Magyk in the book.
Linda stood in the doorway to the bedroom. She turned as he came in but didn’t say a word. She seemed calm enough, patient, and he had nothing to hide. Nancy Donovan came into his mind, a glimpse of her, lips parted; but he got rid of it, no trouble, in and out.
“You’re wondering what Miss Oklahoma’s doing in our bed, aren’t you?” He could fool around, play with it, free of guilt, glad to see her. “I’ll tell you,” Vincent said. “But first, how’d it go?”
Linda said, no, she’d like to hear about Miss Oklahoma first. So he told her about LaDonna’s fear, her recent experience, what was going on, and Linda raised her eyebrows a few times as she listened, interested but not overdoing it. What a girl. Maybe she could have given it just a little more; but he was satisfied. Linda didn’t act until she got on the stage. “So, how’d it go?”
“I was a smash.”
“They liked you.”
“Vincent, they loved it. We’re doing two weeks to start. The guys are great, better than I ever expected. We start moving and it’s so full. It’s so… well, it’s just so full. Three of us, just-it was great. We’re gonna play some music.”
Vincent said, “You were good, uh?”
“Not bad. I’m gonna take a bath. What do you say? You feel dirty?”
“Filthy. Soon as I make a phone call.”
He spoke to a male voice at Northfield who told him Captain Davies was in conference and would have to return his call when he was free. Vincent asked if they had located Teddy Magyk. The voice said he had no information about that. Vincent hung up and sat looking at the name he had printed on the hotel memo pad in block letters, MAGYK, the number written beneath it. He picked up the phone, pressed nine for an outside line…
Someone was at the door: the sound of three quick knocks and then silence. Too soon for DeLeon to be back… Vincent crossed the room, opened the door.
It was Nancy Donovan.
Dressed casually now in a navy jacket and slacks. She said, “Are you going to invite me in?” Her voice softer than he had ever heard it, giving him a movie-star look with her eyes.
Vincent had to think about it a moment. He said, “Sure. Why not?”
Nancy hesitated now. “I’m not disturbing you?”
“No, come on in. Sit down, I’ll fix you a drink.”
“Could I have a small cognac?” She was in now, moving to the couch. Vincent told her she could have anything she wanted and poured a couple of good ones. This was getting to be some night. He handed her the snifter glass and she said, “I want to say I’m sorry…”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I’m not.” Letting him have it, but immediately drawing in again, passive. “I was going to say, I’m sorry if there was a misunderstanding. Sorry you got the wrong idea. You had no reason, Vincent, to say what you did.”
She was at the end of the sofa, tailored and trim. Vincent eased into DeLeon’s chair to sit at a close angle to her, their knees almost touching.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
She waited a moment, her clear stare turning wistful. “Can we be friends?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Start over?” When he nodded and said you bet, she smiled. “Did I frighten you? Just a little, maybe?” He gave that one a nice shrug and she said, “I thought about it after. I can understand how you might’ve gotten the idea I was, well, sort of coming at you. But I meant well, honest.” Nancy gave him the look over the rim of the glass, head lowered slightly, one he remembered from the Penthouse Lounge, upstairs. She sipped her cognac, swirled it lazily in the snifter bowl and looked at him again. “When we were alone earlier, spying on the casino, we seemed so”-she hunched her shoulders, becoming tiny-“at ease with one another, and yet so aware. It was as if in that moment, Vincent, I knew you and I knew I was right, what I’d felt from that first time.” He said, That first time?… And Nancy said, “In San Juan, when you came to my house. I knew then-”
“God,” LaDonna said, coming out of the bedroom, her white legs coming out of a shorty robe Vincent didn’t recognize, “how long did I sleep?” The robe, or beach cover, would have to be Linda’s. He glanced at Nancy, sitting up to look over the back of the sofa, turned away from him.
LaDonna said, “Oh, hi. Can somebody tell me what time it is?” The sleepy girl stretching now, reaching out, the cotton robe rising on her milky thighs.
“Two forty-five,” Nancy said. “I think it’s time for me to go.” She said to Vincent, “Sorry.”
He had to pull his eyes away from LaDonna to look at Nancy, not sounding anything like the voice from a moment ago. Amazing-no longer tiny in that navy-blue outfit but standing tall, shoving her hands in the pockets now to get back a casual effect, indifference.
It didn’t last.
Not with Linda coming out of the bathroom now doing a funky drag step nude, with subtle hip moves, doing things with a towel as part of the vocal number, a rendition of “Automatic” in the Pointer Sisters’ style, a low gutty voice telling them all of her systems were down down down…
Till she saw her audience.
Vincent was proud of her, the way she did a turn without missing a beat, wrapped the towel around her, even tucking the end in, said, “Well, what do you think?” and threw her arms out to strike a pose. “This, or the banana outfit?”
Vincent imagined telling his friend Buck Torres about this night. Or Lorendo Paz in San Juan. Yes? And then what happened.