Doucette ended the call. Justice had been served, and the casino boss was happy with the outcome. Billy hated to burst his bubble but did so anyway. The more information he could feed Doucette, the more level the playing field became between them.
“You’re not going to get all of it back,” he informed him.
Doucette’s smile evaporated. “I’m not?”
“No. You might as well know now.”
“The cops are going to take a cut, is that the deal?”
“Afraid so.”
“Is there anything I can do about it?”
“Not really.”
“Is that true?” Doucette asked Crunchie.
“Billy’s telling you the truth,” the old grifter said from across the room.
“How much will they take?”
“Fifteen, maybe twenty grand,” Billy said.
“That’s highway robbery.”
“Think of it as a handling fee.”
“You trying to be funny?”
“I’m just telling you how things work, that’s all. You’re new to town.”
“What do they do, split it up among themselves?” Doucette asked, curious now.
How the Metro LVPD chopped up their ill-gotten gains was their business, and Billy said, “I have no idea. Look on the bright side. In the old days, they’d have taken half.”
“You’re shitting me. Did they do that to the mob?”
“Sure. Despite what people think, the mob never ran this town. The sheriff’s department did, and still does.”
Doucette was getting a deal; he just didn’t know it. From his desk drawer he removed the gaffed Slots A Fun chip and the gaffed cigarette pack and tossed them on the desk. “I want to go over our deal again so we’re clear. In return for you stopping the Gypsies from scamming me, I’ll give you your toys back, and I’ll have my people erase the surveillance tapes of you using your mirror at our blackjack tables. That sound right to you?”
“What about my crew?” Billy asked.
“Crunchie has their names on a slip of paper,” Doucette said. “He’ll tear it up, and your friends will be home free. Now, are we in agreement?”
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
“You’re going to be given free rein to walk around my casino,” the casino boss went on. “You’ll get twenty grand in chips to play with, which you’ll turn in each night. We’ll be watching you every minute so make sure you behave. If you try to swindle me, my wife and I are going to flip a coin to see who beats you to death with a baseball bat. I’m not kidding. I know you just saved me a lot of money, but that doesn’t give you a license to rip me off. Keep your nose clean, and I won’t hurt you.”
Billy knew they’d do it, too, and wondered if they’d film it and watch it on the big flat screen in their bedroom while they snorted cocaine and screwed.
“I won’t rip you off, and that’s a promise,” he said.
Doucette motioned for his guest to rise. Billy stood up.
“Lose the shades,” the casino boss said.
Billy did as told. Doucette shook his head disapprovingly. “Can’t have you walking around my casino looking like that. Honey, can you make him look pretty again?”
Shaz’s eyes were glistening, and she seemed to be getting off on the miserable state of Billy’s appearance.
“I can try,” she said.
“Did you ever hustle?” he asked.
They were back in his suite, Shaz next to him in a chair, applying pancake to his bruises and his black eye, her tits in his face, her breath hot and, no doubt, filled with plans. Either she would get him in the sack or she’d bash his brains in with a baseball bat; it didn’t seem to matter, just as long as she got him in the end.
“For Christ’s sake, sit still,” she said.
“Did you?” he asked again.
“You think I was a hooker?” she said, not sounding the least bit offended.
“I meant as a grifter.”
“What do you think?”
“I think you did. You fooled me last night at the hostess stand. I never saw it coming.”
She gave a sweet little laugh that didn’t resemble the monster he knew. “I used to strip at a men’s club called Jumbo’s Clown Room in LA. I took home more money than any other girl at the club. Does that make me a hustler?”
“You got suckers to part with their money. What else did you do?”
“You talk too much. Shut up before I poke your eye out.”
She dabbed his face with a small sponge and kept breathing on him. On the other side of the suite, Ike and T-Bird shared the couch, talking in a conspiratorial tone. Plotting their next rip-off, he guessed. Crunchie was outside on the balcony on his cell phone. His story about his long-lost daughter was half true. He had a drug-addicted twenty-six-year-old son in Seattle he’d recently become acquainted with, and his son had called his father to beg for money, putting the old grifter in a foul mood.
“You know how I figured it out?” he said. “It was the way you handled me. You never missed a beat, didn’t give me a reason to be suspicious. You did more than just strip, didn’t you?”
“How’d you like me to bite your tongue out?” she asked.
“Before or after we fuck?”
“Aren’t we clever? Now shut up and let me finish.”
She went back to repairing his face. Her breathing had become accelerated and her nostrils were flared. She was wound way too tight, and Billy waited for her to calm down before he spoke again.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll get Ike and T-Bird liquored up tonight, and they’ll tell me. I’d rather hear it from you.”
She put the pancake down and rested her elbows on the arm of his chair, so close that he could have kissed her. “Why do you fucking care? What’s in it for you?”
“I want to know who I’m dealing with, that’s all.”
“All right, here it is. I got tired of stripping and started moving blow. I dealt with people scarier than anybody you could ever dream of. Mexican cartels, guys that would cut your head off and stick it on a pole if you looked at them cross-eyed. I was good at it. Real good at it.”
“How long were you in the game?”
“Five years. It taught me a lot.”
“Do you miss it?”
“It wasn’t that kind of work.”
Before he could ask another question, she put her finger to his lips, silencing him.
“I dig you and so does Marcus, even if you are a sneaky little shit. We both think there’s a place for you in the organization. Just keep your hand out of the cookie jar, and find the Gypsies before they scam us. When this is over, we’ll talk again. That sound good to you?”
He mouthed the word okay. Ike and T-Bird weren’t paying attention and Crunchie remained on the balcony getting worked over by his long-lost son. The landscape had shifted and they’d missed it. She took her finger away and planted a kiss on his lips, sealing the deal.
NINETEEN
His face repaired, he went downstairs to the main lobby and entered a coffee shop called Brando’s, the walls decorated with movie stills of the famous actor before he’d gone to seed. It was the only restaurant in the hotel that served breakfast all day, and he was craving scrambled eggs. He flipped through the spiral-bound menu until he found the selections.
Ike and T-Bird sat across from him without touching their menus. They’d been quiet as mice in the elevator, and he sensed that there was something on their minds. All the thieves he’d ever known had wanted to elevate their status and make more money. House burglars longed to be bank robbers, while bank robbers imagined themselves jewelry thieves. Each rung on the criminal ladder brought new challenges and greater wealth. It was no different than any other profession, except for the penalty of getting caught.