“Jack, great to see ya.”
“What’ll it be?”
“Johnny Black, ice.”
“Coming right up.”
“Say, has my wife been down?”
“Well, sir, she’s come into the bar the last few nights, and I do recall seeing her at the pool on occasion. Wonderful woman, sir.”
“Yeah, yeah, but she don’t know I’m here. I want it to be a surprise, ya know, so—”
Jack nodded. “Mum’s the word, sir, of course.”
“Thanks.”
Paulie looked at his watch with a tinge of anxiety, but immediately thereafter, the shadow of a bulk shape crossed his back.
“Argi, my man! Have a seat.”
Argi set down a small suitcase, paused, then said, “Naw, boss, I better stand.” He lowered his voice. “The nut, you know?”
“Aw, shit, yeah. Still hurts, huh?”
“Like a motherfucker…but it’s getting smaller.” Argi briefly opened his overcoat to display the grossly swollen organ.
“Yeah, it is gettin’ smaller,” Paulie said. “If the Doc says you’ll be fine, then you’ll be fine.”
“Yeah.”
For the briefest of moments, Jack, whilst pouring Paulie’s drink, was able to glimpse Argi’s bloated testicle. What must’ve gone through his mind for that second or two? What could possibly explain a muscular Mafia lieutenant with one fist-sized testicle hanging out of his fly on Christmas Day?
Jack, of course, looked away a second later, because what goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Calzano. The same for you, I trust?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
When Jack dispatched to pour the second drink, Paulie leaned and whispered, “You get it?”
Argi nodded, pointing to the small suitcase.
“Godd damn, Argi—you’re a genius! How the hell you find one on Christmas Day? There ain’t no hardware stores open.”
“Naw, boss, there ain’t, but ya know our guy on Fremont Street, Dicky M.? He runs the slots for us at the dives.”
“Oh, yeah, I know Dicky M., sure.”
“Well, see, boss. I remember him tellin’ me once that his father owns a hardware store nearby, so all I do is call him and tell him. Half hour later-bam—he’s handin’ it to me.”
“You rock, Argi!” A pause. “What did you tell him we needed it for?”
Argi chuckled. “I told him we were makin’ bird houses.”
Both men laughed bruskly.
“You been up the room yet?” Argi asked.
“Naw. Wanna surprise her.”
“So how you gonna play it?”
“I figure in an hour I’ll go up, surprise her, grab a piece of ass, then take her out for a show, have a nice romantic candle-lit dinner with one of them guys in a tux playin’ violin tableside, then I’ll take her back to the suite, and”—he snapped his fingers—“then I’ll do it.”
“Good deal, boss.”
“You’re welcome to join in.”
“Aw, no, boss, I couldn’t. Wouldn’t feel right about it.”
“Aw, fuck that, Argi,” and Paulie slapped him on the back. “Come on, we’re family, man.” He lowered his voice. “You didn’t have no problem last night when us and the rednecks were doin’ that Menuido guy.”
“I think it’s Menduez, boss, but, shit, naw, I couldn’t. Marshie’s your private stock.”
“Forget it, I’m waxin’ her anyway so what’s the big deal? The more the merrier.” Paulie laughed huskily, then without thinking, raised his voice a bit. “Come on Argi! You and me. How can ya not wanna fuck my wife in the head?”
Argi chuckled. “Well, sure, boss, if it’s all right with you. Anything for the family, you know?”
They resumed their laughter; however, Jack, the bartender, seemed to have overheard Paulie’s bizarre remark. This fact he gave away by standing momentarily paralyzed while polishing a glass.
Paulie flagged him over.
“Sir?”
“Hey, Jack. I’m thinkin’ maybe you just overheard what I said, but, see, you’d be doin’ me a big favor by, like, forgetting it. You readin’ me?”
“Oh, but Mr. Vinchetti, I’m sure I didn’t hear a word.”
Paulie slipped him a $100 bill and winked.
“Thank you very much, sir.”
“No problem.” Paulie turned back to Argi and rubbed his hands together. “Ya know, Argi? I gotta feelin’ this is gonna be an ass-kickin’ Christmas.”
“It sure is, boss. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” and then their glasses clinked.
— | — | —
About the Author
Edward Lee has had more than 40 books published in the horror and suspense field, including CITY INFERNAL, THE GOLEM, and BLACK TRAIN. His movie, HEADER was released on DVD by Synapse Films, in June, 2009. Recent releases include the stories, “You Are My Everything” and “The Cyesologniac,” the Lovecraftian novella “Trolley No. 1852,” and the hardcore novel HAUNTER OF THE THRESHOLD. Currently, Lee is working on HEADER 3. Lee lives on Florida’s St. Pete Beach. Visit him online at:
http://www.edwardleeonline.com