He got pumped just thinking about it.
He went to say good-bye to his crew. It was going to be a while before they hooked up again, and he wanted to look each of them in the eye and make sure they were okay with cutting up the score later on. Last thing he needed was for one of them to get sore and start shooting their mouth off. Misty and Pepper were in the study huddled in front of the computer, checking out the before and after photos of face-lifts on a plastic surgeon’s splashy website, Pepper saying, “You’re going to look ten years younger, girl. Think of all the rich men you’ll meet.” Misty laughed mischievously under her breath.
“I’ve got to blow. Call me if anything comes up, or you want to talk,” Billy said.
“You going to stay in town?” Misty asked.
“I’m taking a friend to LA. I might hang there awhile.”
“The plastic surgeon I’m thinking of using is in LA. Maybe we can get together while I’m recuperating, go hang out at Disneyland or something.”
“That would be a blast. Let’s do it.”
They said their good-byes. Pepper walked with him into the hallway.
“Hey, Billy, do you think I could get a face-lift, too?” Pepper asked. “I was in those movies with Misty. It would let us both make a clean break, if you know what I mean.”
He couldn’t say no without hurting Pepper’s feelings. In the kitchen he gave her two more stacks from the strongbox. She squealed with delight and kissed him.
Next stop was the garage, where Gabe and Travis were preparing to move the bulky Italian press and spark-erosion machine that the fake chips had been manufactured on.
“I’m out of here. Are you guys good with everything?” Billy asked.
“I’m good,” Travis said.
“Same here,” Gabe said.
He asked them how they planned to spend the time away from the casinos.
“Hanging out with my family, doing crap around the house, working on my dice switch,” Travis said. “You won’t recognize it the next time I move.”
“You going to videotape yourself?” Billy asked.
“I was planning on it,” Travis said.
“Practice keeping your thumb still.”
“I’ll do that.”
“How about you?” Billy asked Gabe.
“I’m going to drive down to San Diego to see my ex and the girls,” Gabe said. “I texted her this morning, and she seemed okay with it. I was hoping to shower her with money, you know, just to show her I wasn’t the biggest loser that ever lived, but I think it’s better that I don’t. I’ll send her some later.”
“I hope it goes okay,” he said.
“Me, too. Look, Billy, I’ve got to get something off my chest. I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with Cory and Morris. We all make mistakes, but those two… no.”
“Anything in particular bothering you?”
“Yeah. Cory came into the casino without his disguise. When I asked him why, he said he forgot to put it on.”
“Was that his excuse? Jesus.”
“You know about it, then.”
“It came up during my chat with the gaming board. How about you?”
“I feel the same way,” Travis said. “They’re going to ruin us one day if we’re not careful.”
“Had enough, huh?” Billy said.
Both men said they’d had.
He found Cory and Morris in the backyard smoking a joint so fat it could have passed as a small cigar. Seeing Billy come out the back door, Cory ground the joint into the grass while his partner kept the last puff trapped in his lungs. Billy had told them they were not allowed to get high during a job, yet they’d kept right on doing it. Their stupidity was making his decision a lot easier.
“Get over here. Both of you,” he said.
They shuffled over, embarrassed. There was no reason to beat around the bush, so he laid into them. “You guys have been fucking up a lot lately. First at the golf course, then Cory forgets to put on his disguise when you parked the rental behind the casino. The gaming board made you. It’s a miracle I got you off. You could have screwed the whole thing up.”
They hung their heads in shame. Morris let the smoke go and started hacking.
“We’ll make it up to you,” Cory promised.
“Yeah, we’ll do you right,” Morris said.
“It’s too late for that. I’m cutting you both loose. You’ll get your money when we cut up the score, and that’s it. No more jobs. You’re done.”
“You’re not going to give us another chance?” Cory asked.
Billy shook his head and thought they might cry. He went inside without saying good-bye, grabbed the strongbox off the kitchen table, and headed out the front door. As he placed the strongbox in the trunk, they came up from behind.
“Quit following me,” he said.
“Come on, Billy, we’ve been loyal,” Cory said.
“Soldiers to the end,” Morris said.
“You want my advice? Go back to college and get degrees in hospitality management. It’s all you’re good for.”
“No, Billy,” they both said.
“Or slinging drinks in a bar. You could do that. I let you join my crew, teach you everything I know, and what do I get in return? A bunch of high school fucking jive artists who can’t remember to put on their fucking disguises before they walk into a joint. You’re both a disgrace. Now get out of my way before I run you over, which is what I want to do right now.”
They jumped onto the grass next to the curb. Billy got in and fired up the engine. His heart was beating out of control, his hands shaking on the wheel. He didn’t need this, and he shot them an angry look through the passenger window. They took it the wrong way and brought their faces up to the glass, thinking he was going to give them another chance to make things right again.
He sped away, refusing to look back.
SIXTY-FIVE
His heart was still pounding as he pulled into the parking lot of Ly’s motel. He’d had members of his crew leave before, usually for personal reasons, but he’d never had to fire anyone. Cutting Cory and Morris loose was tearing him apart, and he didn’t know why.
He rapped softly on the door to Ly’s room. He’d promised to drive Ly to LA and didn’t see any reason to wait. He needed to get her out of Vegas before the gaming board ran her down and held her feet to the fire.
“Go away, or I’ll call the cops,” a woman that wasn’t Ly said through the door.
He backed away from the door, knowing he was being watched through the peephole.
“Sorry.”
He walked around the building and entered the tiny office that served as registration. The young Latina working the desk was the same one who’d checked him in, a tough little number with lots of makeup. She unplugged herself from an iPod and arched her eyebrows.
“Have you seen my friend? She isn’t answering her door.”
“Your Asian friend checked out,” the Latina said.
Ly didn’t have enough money to buy a bus ticket, and Billy wondered where she’d gone.
“Did she say where she was going?”
“I don’t like to get involved with people’s business,” the Latina said, “but since you paid for her room, I’ll tell you. Your friend met a guy in the restaurant, a software salesman out of Reno. He stays here a lot. Your friend left with him.”
“You don’t say. Decent guy?”
“The women seem to like him.”
That solved that problem. He started to back out of the office. The Latina wasn’t done with him. “You had another visitor. She’s still here.”