I went to the nearest table and sat down within a small group. I threw down both chips and lost.
SEVEN
I went back to my room then and fell onto the unmade bed. I could not think. When I was awake again after an hour’s tortured sleep, I searched through the suite for leftover banknotes. I had remembered that that night there was a casino executive party at the Hyatt in Coloane and I could hit someone up for a loan, perhaps even one of the same people who only a few hours or days ago had hit me up for a loan. With luck, Solomon would be there and I could get repaid. God knew, he owed me. There was also an Englishman by the name of Adrian Lipett, who had borrowed five grand from me a month ago and whom I had not seen since. If I was in luck, and they were in pocket, I could get something back and then clear my wits and see where I stood. Which might be on thin ice about to crack, but one never knew and it was worth the try.
I got dressed after finding a few hundred under the bed and in the bathroom and went down to the taxi rank. Crossing the causeway, I saw the moon on the water, and as we crossed Taipa the car shuddered with strong winds. It was much earlier than I had realized, before midnight, and the ludicrous thought occurred to me that I had actually slept for twenty-four hours and it was now the following night. The roads were empty. The wooded hills of Coloane twisted by, the moon peeping between tossing trees. By the Hyatt the small curved beach was alive with surfer waves and the volleyball nets swung back and forth. Chinese lanterns set on the terraces leading up to the hotel also rocked in the monsoon gusts.
In the forecourt of the hotel a marquee had been set up along with a small stage; a large flat-screen TV in the upstairs bar showed a Rolling Stones concert. The American casino men sprawled in the leather chairs with their Chinese mistresses were saying how good Jagger looked for his age, very agile, and it gave them all secret hope. Red streamers dangled from the ceilings with long gold ribbons inside them. The Year of the Rat was truly upon us. The stage lit up outside and a Chinese violinist climbed onto it. With impeccable classical technique, the girl launched into a few numbers from Riverdance. I slipped through the crowd looking for my fellow con men, and soon I was upstairs in the hotel bar with its balcony overlooking the cove. The Americans were now out in force. The robust men of Nevada in their Singapore suits and their Ferragamo ties. They didn’t notice me, because the loser always has a certain unconscious invisibility.
I threaded my way through them until I caught sight of Solomon McClaskey drinking himself under the table with a group of Chinese, and I motioned for him to follow me out onto the balcony. The group was pulling crackers and eating a roast pig. At first he pretended not to see me but was forced to acknowledge that he had and reluctantly got up from his sofa and his gimlet. He came out gingerly onto the balcony, where we were alone because of the inclement weather, and he saw the alarming signs in my face at once. The wind was loud and I had to strain to make myself understood. I said I needed the loan I had made him back. It was a sticky situation and I needed every kwai. I said the table he was at seemed fairly groaning with goodies and that he must have struck it good at one of the casinos, though it was none of my business. I just wanted the dough back in good order. I said it in a friendly way, without urgency, just stating the case and saying it was one of those days. One of those cursed days that must always come upon us.
“You had a bad night at the tables?” he said calmly. “I hear you, brother, I hear you.”
“It happens.”
“Yes, yes, it does happen.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
“But the thing is, it’s not the perfect moment at my end either. Don’t be deceived by the table. That’s old man Hong’s tab and I’m just sitting in. See? I had a pretty rocky night myself. I went to the Venetian and made a pig’s dinner out of it. The old woman’s screaming at me for losing so much money. I wasn’t expecting this, as you can imagine. We all thought you were flying high. What happened anyway?”
“Never mind that. I need some kwai.”
A panicked look came over him.
“I never come to parties with wads of cash. Not that I have wads of cash. But even if I did I wouldn’t come to a party like this with it. I’d be too afraid I’d spend it all on women.”
“Solomon, just give me half what you have down there. Don’t be a prick about it. Don’t make me empty your pockets.”
“I don’t mind emptying my pockets,” he retorted proudly.
But he would never do it.
“Just five hundred,” I said.
“I can’t, I only have three.”
“One fifty?”
My voice went high-wire.
“I could give you the three,” he tried, sensing it would be bad if he didn’t.
“You’d better because I don’t have anything for the cab home.”
“Jesus, Lord Doyle. You’ve really crashed?”
“Crashed and flamed. You know that feeling, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
He felt in his pockets. I knew that the notes he had there were too big to take out without blowing his ruse, so he had to find another ruse.
“Let me get you a drink,” he said. “I’ll be right back out. What’ll you have?”
“Bloody Mary.”
“I’ll make it lethal.”
I waited, furious and impotent, and through the glass doors I kept an eye out for Lipett, he of many unpaid obligations. I was going nowhere on this quest for a repay, but I had nowhere else to go and I had to keep at it. After a short age Solomon returned with two Bloody Marys and we proceeded to down them too quickly while I tried to think of a way out of my mess and he tried to think of a way to give me as little money as possible.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“My luck ran out.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“Are you going to make a run for it?”
“Where would I go?”
He shrugged.
“Mongolia?”
“I haven’t paid the hotel bill. They’d come and get me. The Chinese would come and get me.”
“I see what you mean. Nasty.”
“I have to play my way out of it.”
“Play your way out of it?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I have to play my way out of it. There’s nothing else for it.”
“You can’t play your way out of it.”
“Why not? I played my way into it, didn’t I?”
Inescapable logic.
“But what if you lose the next round?”
It was occurring to him that our positions had merely reversed, and that now it was I who was going to play the money he would be giving me. Neither of us could remember whose money it actually was, or had been originally. It was just money, like fluids passing between animals. It was eternal, while we were anything but.
“I am not going to lose the next round. If I do, I’ll disappear.”
He laughed.
“You’ll disappear?”
“I might. Why not?”
“Nothing rash, eh, Freddy?”
He fumbled in his pocket. His voice broke a little and I must have appeared as desperate as I actually was.
“Can’t you pay back five grand now?” I said tensely. “I need it to get through the next few days. The next few days are going to be hard.”
“Five thousand won’t get you anywhere.”
“I know, but you owe it.”
“How about two?”
“Three fifty.”
“Three. All right, three. It’s breaking my back, though.”
“Those tarts in there cost more than that for a half hour.”
The three grand came out and was passed over like heroin that mustn’t be seen.