They hit it off, and Mags sprang for a chocolate shake at the Mickey D’s on Broad Street. They sat in her car while she sucked on a Kool. He tried to drag every piece of information about hustling out of her that he could. Finally she had enough of his questions.
“I’ve got to beat it. You take care of yourself,” she said.
“Take me with you. We’ll make lots of money.”
“You’re a sharp kid. Do yourself a favor, go to college.”
“You sound like my old man. He wants me to go to MIT.”
“Do as he says. Father knows best.”
“This is better. I like you. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
She smiled dreamily. Leaning forward, her lips brushed his, became a lingering kiss. Her breath tasted like a menthol cigarette. For the rest of his life, the smell would turn him on.
She pulled away, lit up a fresh cigarette. She was all business now. Whatever had passed between them was gone.
“You really want to fleece people?” she asked.
Billy didn’t know if he wanted to fleece people or not. What he knew was that he wanted to make lots of money, wear fancy clothes, live in a beautiful house, drive an exotic sports car, date great-looking women, and he didn’t want to spend thirty years getting there.
“Where do I sign up?” he said.
“Sherwood Manufacturing on 75 Eagle Street. There’s no sign. Just go upstairs and bang on the door. A black guy will come out. Tell him you want to speak to Lou Profaci.”
“Who’s he? What do they do?”
“Lou owns the place. They make knockoffs that street hustlers sell to suckers. The big movers are the fake sweaters and counterfeit Rolex watches called one-lungers. The watches last about a week before falling apart, even though there’s a lifetime guarantee on the box. Lou will pair you with a pro, and you’ll learn the ropes before he turns you out. In six months, you’ll be making a grand a week easy.”
“Turn me out where?”
“On the street. Every street hustler in Providence rents his turf from Lou. Some guys work the malls, others the train stations; my turf is the construction sites.”
“Can he teach me how to cheat at cards and dice? My old man won’t.”
“Sure. Lou knows all the angles. Now, let me go.”
He slurped down the last of his shake. It washed away the taste of her kiss but not the euphoric rush that had gone with it. She had opened his eyes to so many things; letting go wasn’t going to be easy. “Eagle Street’s on the other side of town, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.”
“Lou Profaci.”
“That’s the man’s name.”
“You sure he’ll do it?”
She reached across the seat and tousled his curly hair.
“Just tell him Maggie Flynn sent you,” she said.
“That’s right. I’m the paperboy. Let me buy you a drink,” Billy said.
Mags knew better than to set foot back inside Galaxy. She shook her head.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. They grabbed another blond,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not a blond.”
“You were back inside the casino.”
“I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else.”
“I saw you at the table painting the cards.” He held up four fingers and wiggled them playfully. “Your chops are outstanding.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You have a can of daub in your purse. You were sitting at third base, painting the ten-valued cards. A guy in the surveillance room made you, so the casino sent me to take a look.”
Fear crept into the corners of her eyes. “You work for the casino?”
“I’m doing a job for them. Now, let me buy you a drink. I’ve got a business proposition to discuss with you.”
“A business proposition.”
“That’s right. One that involves making lots of money. Does that sound appealing?”
Mags looked confused and a little scared. She hadn’t figured out what Billy’s deal was and didn’t know if he was friend or foe.
“You’re not going to bust me?” she asked.
“Hell no,” he said.
She glanced furtively at the valet stand, as if weighing an all-or-nothing dash down the sidewalk to the Strip. Taking her arm, he steered her toward the entrance.
“You’re safe with me,” he said.
TWENTY-FOUR
He found a bar off the lobby with TVs showing mindless sporting events whose outcomes only bookies cared about, and steered Mags to a corner table where they could talk in private. She fired up another cigarette after they sat down, and he detected a slight tremble in her fingers. She was doing a good job of hiding her emotions. For all she knew, Billy was working undercover with the gaming board and could make her life miserable in so many ways.
A waitress dolled up like Marilyn Monroe took their drink order. The hotel’s celebrity theme was wearing thin and in a few months would probably get scrapped, the employees forced to wear the same tired uniforms that every casino in town made their employees wear.
“Your name is Billy, isn’t it,” she said.
“You’ve got a good memory. It’s Billy Cunningham.”
“What’s mine?”
“Maggie Flynn. Your friends call you Mags.”
“You sent that cocktail waitress over to give me the brush, didn’t you?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“I didn’t want you to get busted.”
Their drinks came. Mags stirred her club soda with a straw and watched the bubbles explode. He could almost hear the gears shifting in her head as she tried to figure out his deal.
“I always wondered what happened to you,” she said. “Did you make your old man happy and go to MIT?”
“Sure did. I split after two semesters.”
“So what do you do now? Catch hustlers for casinos? You’re sure good at it.”
She’d been caught red-handed, yet still was trying to control the conversation and get him to warm up to her. Lou Profaci had taught her that little trick, along with every other hustler who’d worked for him.
“You need to stop asking so many questions, and listen to what I have to say,” he said.
“I’m just interested. No harm in that, is there?”
She flashed a smile. She had perfect rows of teeth, bee-stung lips, and soft emerald eyes that he could have stared into all night long without getting bored. All the feelings bottled up inside him for so long bubbled to the surface and he gazed down at his drink.
“There are two things I need to tell you,” he said. “The first is, don’t ever come back to this place. These aren’t casino people running this joint. They’re drug dealers, and they’ll beat you to death with baseball bats and no one will ever see you again. Got it?”
“Shit. Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t come back here. Okay?”
“Sure, Billy.”
Mags had been in the game a while and knew that self-preservation was the most important thing of all.
“You said there were two things,” she said after a moment had passed.
“I have a business proposition for you.”
“What’s that?”
“I put together a crew after I moved out here. We’ve been raking in the dough, taking down ninety grand a week. I’ve been thinking of expanding and working a few new scams. I’m going to need help.”
Her reaction was a slow one. She teetered ever so slightly in her seat.
“You’re a cheater,” she said under her breath.
“It sure took you long enough.”
“Jesus H. Christ. I thought you were an undercover cop.”
“Hardly. I’ve been scamming casinos in Vegas for ten years, and I’ve seen a lot of hustlers. I dug what I saw back in the casino. You’ve got the routine down pat. I want you to join my crew.”
At first, she didn’t know what to say.