Wayne parked. Wayne killed his lights. Wayne skimmed the radio. He caught the McGuire Sisters-three-part harmony.
Janice had a dressing room. It faced the carport. She got bored. She changed clothes. She left her lights on to draw looks.
Wayne settled in. The Sisters crooned. "Sugartime" merged with "Sincerely." Janice walked through the light. Janice wore tennis shorts and a bra.
She posed. She dropped her shorts. She picked up capris. Her panties stretched and slid low.
She put the capris on. She unpinned her hair and combed it back. Her gray streak showed-silver in black-the pink capris clashed.
She pirouetted. Her breasts swayed. The Sisters supplied a soundtrack. The lights dimmed. Wayne blinked. It all went too fast.
He calmed down. He turned the car off. He walked through the house. He went straight back. Wayne Senior always perched outside. The northdeck view magnetized.
It was cold. Leaves strafed the deck. Wayne Senior wore a fat sweater. Wayne leaned on the rail. Wayne killed his view.
"You never get bored with it."
"I appreciate a good vista. I'm like my son that way."
"You never called and asked about Dallas."
"Buddy and Gil briefed me. They were thorough, but I'd still like to hear your version."
Wayne smiled. "In time."
Wayne Senior sipped bourbon. "The crap-game ruckus tickled me. You chasing that colored boy."
"I was brave and stupid. I'm not sure you would have approved."
Wayne Senior twirled his walking stick. "And I'm not sure you want my approval."
Wayne turned around. The Strip beamed. Neon signs pulsed.
"My son rubbed shoulders with history. I wouldn't mind a few details."
Cars left Vegas-the losers' exodus-southbound headlights.
"In time."
"Mr. Hoover saw the autopsy pictures. He said Kennedy had a small pecker."
Wayne heard gunshots north-northeast. Broke gambler blows town. Broke gambler pulls gun. Broke gambler unwinds.
"LBJ told Mr. Hoover a good one. He said, 'Jack was a strange bedfellow long before he entered politics.'"
Wayne turned around. "Don't gloat. It's fucking undignified."
Wayne Senior smiled. "You've got a foul mouth for a Mormon."
"The Mormon Church is a crock of shit, and you know it."
"Then why'd you ask the Saints to kill your baby?"
Wayne grabbed the rail. "I forgot that I told you that."
"You tell me everything-'in time.'"
Wayne dropped his hands. His wedding band slid. He missed meals. He dropped weight. He fretted up Dallas.
"When's your Christmas party?"
Wayne Senior twirled his stick. "Don't divert conversation so abruptly. You tell people what you're afraid of."
"Don't press on Lynette. I know where you're going."
"Then I'll go there. It's a kid marriage that you're bored with, and you know it."
"Like you and my mother?"
"That's right."
"I've heard it before. You're here and you've got what you've got. You're not a cluck selling real estate in Peru, Indiana."
"That's right. Because I knew when to fold my hand with your mother."
Wayne coughed. "You're saying I'll meet my Janice and walk like you did."
Wayne Senior laughed. "Shitfire. Your Janice and my Janice are one and the same."
Wayne blushed. Wayne's ears fucking singed.
"Shitfire. Just when I think I've lost sway with my boy, I light him up like a Christmas tree."
A shotgun blew somewhere. It roused some coyote yells.
Wayne Senior said, "Someone lost money."
Wayne smiled. "He probably lost his stake at one of your joints."
"_One of?_ You know I only own one casino."
"The last I heard, you had points in fourteen. And the last time I checked, that was illegal."
Wayne Senior twirled his stick. "There's a trick to lying. Hold to the same line, regardless of who you're with."
"I'll remember that."
"You will. But you'll remember who told you right about the same time."
A flying bug bit Wayne. Wayne swatted it.
"I don't see your point."
"You'll remember that your father told you, and speak some godawful truth out of pure cussedness."
Wayne smiled. Wayne Senior winked. He twirled his stick. He dipped it. He ran his stick repertoire.
"Are you still the only policeman who cares about those beat-up colored whores?"
"That's right."
"Why is that?"
"Pure cussedness."
"That and your spell in Little Rock."
Wayne laughed. "You should have been there. I broke every states' rights law on the books."
Wayne Senior laughed. "Mr. Hoover's going after Martin Luther King. He's got to find himself a 'fallen liberal' first."
"Tell him I'm booked up."
"He told me Vietnam's heating up. I said, 'My son was in the EightySecond Airborne. But don't hold your breath for him to re-enlist-he'd rather fight rednecks than Reds.'"
Wayne looked around. Wayne saw a chip bucket. Wayne grabbed some Land o' Gold reds.
"Did you tell Buddy to send me to Dallas?"
"No. But I've always thought a cold money run would do you some good."
Wayne said, "It was enlightening."
"What did you do with the money?"
"Got myself in trouble."
"Was it worth it?"
"I learned a few things."
"Care to tell me?"
Wayne tossed a chip. Wayne Senior pulled his hip piece. He shot the chip. He nailed it. Plastic shards flew.
Wayne walked inside. Wayne detoured by the dressing room. Janice shot him a view.
Bare legs. A dance step. Streaked-hair allure.
15
(Las Vegas, 12/6/63)
Dallas tweaked him. He should have killed Junior. Junior should have killed the spook.
Vegas sparkled-fuck death-should-haves meant shit. Nice breeze/nice sun/nice casinos.
Pete cruised the Strip. Pete logged distractions:
The Tropicana course. Cocktail carts abundant. Drive-ins. Carhops on skates. Uplift abundant.
Pete made two circuits. Shit popped out:
Some nuns hit the Sands. They spot Frank Sinatra. They swoon and piss Frank off. They shvitz up his Sy Devore suit.
Grief by the Dunes:
Two cops grab two spics. The spics bleed very large. The scene vibes busboy brouhaha. Juan fucked Ramon's sister. Ramon had first dibs. Shivs by the low-roller buffet.
Nice mountains. Neon signs. Jap-tourist shutterbugs.
Pete made three circuits. The Strip show wore thin. Pete re-tweaked Dallas.
BE USEFUL: Sacred fucking text. The Hughes deal would take years. Ward said so. Carlos agreed. Carlos said Pete _should_ push dope in Vegas-but-the other Boys have to agree.
Ward was _trиs_ smart. The Arden move was _trиs_ dumb. Ward tripped on his dick-at a _trиs_ bad time.
Ward was in D.C. and New Orleans. Jimmy H. wanted him. Carlos beckoned. Carlos wants to snip loose ends. Carlos wants Ward's take. Carlos trusts Ward-but Ward always ridicules slaughter.
Arden saw the hit team. Arden knew Betty Mac. Arden knew Hank Killiam. A _trиs_ safe bet: Carlos wants to clip them. A _trйs_ safe bet: Ward calls it rash.
A bug was spreading. Call it the Mercy Flu. Call it the Me-No-Kill Blues.
He should have killed Junior. Junior should have killed the shine.
He watched Junior work. He climbed an adjacent hill. He got a covert view. Junior diced Maynard Moore. Junior cut through his brain pan. Junior pulled slugs. His knife slipped. He ate bone chips. He hacked them out and rocked steady.