“Well, I guess when you’ve got nothing to go home to, you’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “We should put that over the door!”
Was she kidding? I didn’t bother finding out. I just turned to go check out the restaurant but turned back to ask, “Bogen come in yet?”
“Yeah,” Lupe grumbled, “he’s down in the casino, probably enjoying his usual ‘lucky’ streak.”
“You know, I wish he’d… aw!” I turned and stomped into the restaurant.
The restaurant was pretty much deserted just as Lupe said, only two or three tables occupied, and no one at the bar (apart from the bored bartender polishing perfectly clean glassware). Glottis was extemporizing at his piano, the brandy snifter empty. “Quiet night, huh carnal?” I asked in a low voice.
“Day of the Dead ain’t good for business, chief. But last night…! Remember last night, Manny? Hoo-wee!” The demon was in his element when the joint was jumping. A big party was as much his meat as a throbbing engine, it had turned out.
“You think she’ll come in tonight?” I asked.
“You know what, Manny? I think she will! I got a feeling tonight’s the night!”
“Thanks, mano.” Glottis always gave the right answer without prompting.
I went into the casino. Lupe was right again: it was packed. Unfortunately, Bogen was part of the scene. I looked at the large stacks of chips in front of him. And it was still early. Way too early.
I went over to him, clapping a hypocritically-friendly hand to his shoulder. “You know,” I said to him, “some people say you should always walk away from the table when you’re on a winning streak.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, faking agreement but fingering his badge so it would glitter in the lights, “but I’m feeling extra lucky tonight.” From him, that was practically a threat.
“Great,” I said, catching the gaze of the croupier who shrugged helplessly. I looked around but didn’t see any of Max’s boys. Well, I doubted I could’ve bought them off, anyway. There was no way they’d make a move without Max’s say-so, not for any amount of money.
Turning away from the roulette tables, I saw there was another unwelcome presence in the casino—‘Chowchilla’ Charlie in his regular booth. He was my least-favorite customer after Bogen. I could never remember when he first started coming in. He was kind of like a kick in the head: amnesia, followed by a sudden and mysterious pain.
I slid into the seat across from him and asked, “Mind if I sit down, Charlie?”
“Of course not, Manny,” the little hood said. “I mean, it is your club, right?”
“Right,” I said in as hard a tone as I could. “So what are you doing in it? Didn’t I tell you not to come back until you could pay your bar tab?”
“Oh,” he laughed, as if I had told a joke, “they threw me out of that cat track for printing fake betting stubs. So now I have to come here,” he stopped, realized how that sounded, and then quickly added, “…which I love. Which I love!” He gave a little nod, like he was agreeing with himself.
“How did you print fake betting stubs?” I asked, almost curious. Charlie always had some kind of scam going and the law of averages said he’d pull one off, eventually.
“With this,” he said, taking a little machine out of his breast pocket. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he asked. I kept a close watch on it as he turned it over in his hands, hoping he’d put it down. “The last time I was incarcerated I shared a cell with the most dishonest con man I ever met. He was strictly small time,” he said with a sniff, always fancying himself a big-time operator, “and I managed to steal this from him quite easily.” Charlie put the machine on the table, patted it, then reached for his cigarette resting in the ashtray.
I quickly snatched the machine away. “Thanks,” I said as Charlie lunged towards me. I leaned back in my seat to evade him. He was even shorter than me, and not just in the legs. “You never know when something like this might come in handy.” Like as a paperweight. Or a doorstop.
Charlie reached across the table to make another grab at me as I stuffed the machine into my breast pocket. “Hey, give that back to me, Manny!” he begged. Heads at a nearby poker table turned toward us, saw who I was tormenting, and turned back to their cards with knowing laughs.
I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him hard back into his seat. “Maybe once you settle your bar tab, eh, Charlie?” I said in a low growl.
“Oh, Manny…” he said with a sad shake of his head, staring morosely at the ashtray.
“What else can you counterfeit?” I asked, a little curious despite myself.
“Nothing,” he answered, sullen, then looked up at me slyly. “Anything.”
“Can you make, say, passports?”
“Oh, Manny,” he exclaimed, “you still think like a living man in so many ways!” Right. “No soul needs a passport. We are all citizens of the same nation, and our king rides a pale horse.”
“So,” I said, lighting a cigarette, “no passports.”
“No. No, that little hologram is so tricky, you know?”
“Hmm,” I said. “So why aren’t you over at the roulette tables or something?”
“Aw,” Charlie growled, “roulette is for lonely widows and Frenchmen. Why don’t you get some slot machines, Manny? Everybody—old women, little children—they all love slot machines. And I have a system,” he continued in a conspiratorial tone, “an infallible system for beating them.”
“I think slot machines attract an undesirable element.”
“Oh, well, we’re all undesirable, Manny.”
“Yeah, only your credit’s no good, to boot.” I stubbed out my cigarette. Talking to Charlie was leaving a bad taste in my mouth. “Well, I’ve got a club to run, so…”
“Oh yes, please, Manny… get on with your glamorous life.”
I got up and was walking to the door when Lupe burst in. “Hey, boss,” she said, “I’ve got a customer asking for you!”
I looked back at Charlie. “I think I’ve done enough mingling with the customers for one evening.”
“Well,” she said slyly, “you may wanna ‘mingle’ with this one. She seems like your type.”
I shrugged. “OK. Let’s see her.” Might as well find out what my ‘type’ is.
Lupe giggled and led me through the restaurant to her counter. No one was there.
“Huh!” she exclaimed. “She was right here!”
“Did you get her name?”
“No, but she said she had to see you right away. Seemed kinda nervous about something, too. Why’d she leave?”
There was a noise from the doors as a breeze outside pulled them open briefly. Lupe shoved one open and stuck her head out. “Maybe she’s waiting outside,” she said.
“Well, I’ll check it out,” I said. “You’d better get back to your new system.”
“OK!” She threw herself back over her counter like a soldier saving his buddies from a grenade.
I went outside and blew out my breath. It was getting pretty chilly these days. I looked around. There was no one in the parking lot. I went over to the observation platform I put in after one of Lola’s customers had nearly backed over the edge. It was dark, but I thought I saw someone by the railing. My shoe scuffed on some gravel and the figure turned partly toward me.
“Manny?” a woman’s voice said, a voice I had heard in my dreams and nightmares for nearly a year.