The governor followed the splashing noise to the spa tub around the corner.
Kim looked up from the tub. “Ohhh.”
“Young lady, what are you doing in here?”
“I am so sorry, I must have come into the wrong room.”
“No, I don’t think so. I think you know exactly what you’re doing, sneaking into my bathroom like this. You can tell Riordan that he’s washed his casino license down the drain.” He stamped back into the bedroom and started dressing.
As he dressed he heard soft sobbing in the bathroom. His pants were open to put in his shirt when Kim came out of the bathroom. She stopped at the door, her eyes full of tears.
“I am sorry. You don’t understand.” She pointed back at the bathroom. “My room is next door; this is the bathroom for it.”
He stood in the middle of the room and stared at one of the other doors. He rushed to it and opened it. Another bathroom. There were two bathrooms in the large bedroom.
She went back into the bathroom and sat down with her legs in the tub and continued to cry softly.
The governor came in behind her and checked out the room. She was right: There was a door to another bedroom. The second bathroom could be used by the master suite or by the second bedroom. And a couple with separate bedrooms could gain access to each bedroom through the connecting bathroom. He and his wife had a similar arrangement because they had separate bedrooms.
The girl would not look him in the face. She had a towel wrapped around her shoulders that modestly draped down and covered the top of her legs.
“I am in trouble,” Kim said. “I made a mistake and now my cousin will not help me and my family. I have dishonored my family.”
“Oh, of course you haven’t. Anyone could make the mistake.”
“No, it is my fault. I am a terrible person.” As she lifted the towel to wipe her eyes, the dark hair between her legs was exposed. He experienced a jolt in his mid area when he saw it.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
“No, I have dishonored my cousin and my family.” She turned her head from him. The towel slipped away from one of her breasts. He stared at it like a thirsty man stumbling onto an oasis. It had been more years than he could count since he had seen a woman’s breasts. He and his wife had had separate bedrooms for a decade and years before that since they had their last marital relations.
“I should kill myself.”
She threw herself into the water and went under.
“No, Christ!” He slipped into the water still wearing his pants and grabbed her. She came up naked in his arms, struggling against him. In the struggle his pants slipped down and his penis slipped out of the opening in his boxer shorts.
She leaned her head against his chest and put one arm around him. Taking his penis in her other hand, she gently stroked it. Smiling to herself, she thought about the bonus Zack had promised her if she did her job well. The governor’s penis was hard. While Zack had been spicing his lemonade with liquor, she and A-Ma had poured in enough Chinese herbal remedy for impotence to get a horse aroused.
69
I awoke in the middle of the night to find A-Ma gone from bed. She was curled up on a window seat, naked underneath the robe over her shoulders. A full moon lit up the golf course. Hopefully the governor was asleep in the master bedroom—with Kim in his arms.
I went to her. “Can’t sleep?”
“No,” she said, “I awoke when I heard a dog barking. I saw two dogs out the window, skinny yellow ones.”
“Coyotes, wild dogs. They come around at night looking to make a cat their meal. You probably heard a neighbor’s dog who smelled them.”
“Dog eat dog, isn’t that what you Americans say about the world?”
I kissed her on the cheek, the nose, and slipped down to brush her lips with mine. “What’s the matter?”
She pulled her robe tighter. “I saw my own death.”
“What do you mean, you saw your own death?”
“I dreamt that I had died and was in a coffin.”
“Oh, Jesus. Look, forget that crap. We all do that sometimes. It’s probably something you ate.”
“A messenger came when you were playing golf with the governor. He delivered financial papers, transferring more money for the project. I signed the papers and sent them on to the bank.”
I stroked her hair. “You own me body and soul.”
She pushed my hand away. “I own nothing, not even my own soul; it belongs to the devil. You were a fool to get involved with Wan, I told you that. He knows how to twist things to suit himself.”
“I’m not afraid of Wan.”
“You should be. He tried to kill you once; he will do it again.”
“Maybe it was my death you dreamt about.”
She turned her head away and stared out at the golf course lit up by moonlight. “Promise me that if I die, you will not let them bury me during ghost month.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The time of year you call August is ghost month, when the ghosts from hell walk the earth. It’s a dangerous time to be outside, to travel, or even get married or buy a house. To keep the ghosts in hell from taking my soul, you cannot bury me during August.” She grabbed my arm. “When I die, I want to return to the water, to the place were we made love the first time.”
“Christ, A-Ma, don’t talk like that, you’re going to outlive me. Hell, I’m the one everyone hates. Come on, let’s go back to bed.”
70
John Bevard stared at his son-in-law across the conference room table and wondered what it would be like to sink his fist into the man’s mouth. John was the old-fashioned kind: The owner of the state’s biggest fleet of long-distance eighteen wheelers, he had to use his fists more than once on a driver—or a competitor—who treaded on his toes. When he went into politics, he carried the same pugilistic philosophy into the state legislature.
Why his daughter married Charles Ricketts had been one of the great mysteries of his life. But Ginger had never been a rocket scientist when it came to men. Ricketts knocked her up and John spent the last twenty years making sure Ginger and his grandchildren had a roof over their head and putting up with a son-in-law that he frankly disliked. As a man who worked for everything he got, he didn’t respect a man like Ricketts who coasted through life on someone else’s coattails. But the worse sin Ricketts had committed was hitting Ginger. Every time he looked at his daughter and saw the swelling around her right eye he had to resist the urge to punch out Ricketts.
Everything about Ricketts annoyed him. Over the years, his son-in-law had become more and more compulsive about his behavior, driving his wife and kids nuts with demands that everything be neat and in precise order. Crazy bastard went wacko because one of the children had moved a lamp while playing a game. Dishes could not be stacked on the kitchen sink for two minutes without him going into convulsions. Ginger told him that there was something sexual about Ricketts’s compulsions, that she thought that whenever he got excited about something being out of place, he’d run into the bathroom and jack off.
“Dad, I want you to know that in ordinary circumstances, I’d want everything to go to Ginger and the kids,” Ricketts said. “But I do need a little of the family assets to help me get a fresh start.”
John scoffed. “What you call the ‘family assets’ came out of my wallet. I bought the house you live in, your Tahoe cabin, the trust funds for the kids, the whole shebang. You’ve blown your salary for years on gambling and fucking around behind my daughter’s back.”
“Dad, I really don’t think—”
“If that isn’t the truth.”
Ricketts’s lawyer cleared his throat. “Mr. Bevard, we should keep this on a professional level. We’re here to work out a property division so the divorce can go through without a hitch and these two wonderful people can get on with their lives.”
“There is no goddamn property to divide because all they have is what I gave
them. You’re here to extort money from me to keep my daughter’s loser husband from harassing her.”
Ginger started crying.
“Stop that goddamn sniveling. I’m going to buy you a divorce just like I bought you a marriage. Only next time you get married, find a man who can keep a job without me running interference.”
Charles Ricketts came out of the Fremont Street office building that housed his father-in-law’s office. Outside the building, he parted with his lawyer, who headed back to his office down the street while Ricketts went around the corner to the parking lot where he had left his car.
He thought about the meeting with his wife and father-in-law. The old man’s barbed remarks didn’t bother him; he was more interested in getting a chunk of money than he was in saving his pride. And he’d be damn happy to get away from that whining bitch. Bevard thought he knew everything; yeah, he could run him into the ground, but the man never said a word about the fact his daughter was an alky—except to claim that Ricketts drove her to it.
The big beef with his father-in-law was that he made his wife’s life hell. So what, she deserved it. The woman claimed to have had a headache every day since their wedding. Chopping off her head would have cured that. Along with that self-righteous prick of a father. Neither his wife, kids, nor father-in-law understood him or realized what he had gone through in life. His parents had gotten divorced when he was fifteen and neither one wanted him. He ended up being raised by a grandmother who was too old and too regimented in her ways to be raising a teenager.
When he came around the corner, a kid in shorts and a tank top was sitting on the hood of his car.
“Get off my car, goddamnit.”
The kid hopped off. “Jeez, I’m really sorry, mister, I didn’t mean no harm.”
Ricketts examined the hood to see if it was scratched. He was very particular about keeping his two-year-old car in showroom conditions. Just last week he sued the gardener who cut his front lawn for turning on the sprinklers and getting water stains on the car on a hot day.
“Is it okay, sir?” the boy asked.
“You should have more respect for people’s property.”
“You’re right, sir, I should have. And it’s a really nice car. It’s just that I’ve had things on my mind. Troubles.”
Ricketts took a good look at the kid for the first time. He was small built, almost delicate and feminine. Lazy blond hair fell down his forehead to just about blue eyes. His skin was pale and smooth, without the acne that young people tend to get ravaged by. The boy had a helpless look.
“What kind of trouble do you have? Are you a runaway?”
“No, but my parents broke up and things are tough.”
“What’d you mean by tough?”
“Aw, it’s nothing. I have to live with my grandmother. She’s okay, but now she’s off visiting my aunt in Frisco and I’m all alone.”
Ricketts shook his head. “That’s weird.”
“Weird?”
“Same thing happened to me when I was a kid. And I hated the old lady who raised me. She took me in so I could wait on her and take care of her house.”
“Hey, man, that’s the scoop with my grandmother. She’s gonna be gone for three days and she gave me a list of things to do that’ll keep me busy for a month. Say, you’re not going toward Decatur, are you? I need a ride home.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Hop in.”
The boy picked his gym bag off the ground and went around to the other side of the car to get in. As Ricketts got the car started, he asked, “What’s your name?”
“They call me Sonny.”
When they were half a block from Mel’s Drive-in, Sonny said, “I’ve got five dollars. Can I buy you a hamburger for the ride?”
“I’ll buy.”
While Ricketts was giving their order to the car hop, Sonny secretly turned on a tape recorder in his gym bag.
“What kind of work do you do?” he asked Ricketts. “I’ll bet you’re a lawyer?”
“How’d you know?”
“You got that distinguished look lawyers have. I knew a lawyer once, a big criminal lawyer in L.A., a friend of my dad’s, and he had that same look.”
“I used to be a criminal lawyer, but right now I’m in charge of investigations for the state gaming board.”
“Wow, that sounds cool. Who do you investigate?”
As they spoke, Ricketts noticed that a bulge had appeared in the crotch of Sonny’s tight shorts and was slowly spreading down his thigh.
“Who? Uh, well, just about everyone. Any accusation about cheating or organized crime or other undesirables.” His mouth had suddenly turned dry. He wanted to take his eyes off of the phenomenon, but was drawn to it.
“No kidding. If someone wanted a license to run a casino, they’d have to ask you?”
“Well, not really ask me, but they’d have to get my approval.”
“How does that work?”
“You know about the new casino that’s going up, the biggest one in the world?”
“Yeah, I think so. My grandmother said a big one was being built.”
“Before that casino can operate, the person or entity licensed to run it has to pass my investigation.”
“No kidding, you’re that important?”
The sausage-shape on the inside of Sonny’s thigh had to be a foot long, Ricketts thought. He took a drink of the Coke he had ordered and tried again not to stare at it, but keep glancing back at it. “I guess I’m important,” he said.
“Give me an example, like how do you decide whether to grant a license or not.”
“I investigate the people involved, their backgrounds, sources of their money, their associates and family. I have investigators and we get reports from the FBI, DEA, and even the IRS.”
“I guess that guy asking for the license for the big casino is a shooin, huh? My grandmother says he’s the most important guy in Vegas.”
“Your grandmother’s wrong on two counts; I’m the most important person in Vegas, and Riordan’s not getting a license.”
Sonny gave out a girlish giggle and reached over and squeezed Ricketts’s thigh. A jolt went through Ricketts at the touch. He was getting warm and he squirmed uncomfortably on the seat. He had the urge to get out of the car and run into the restroom to masturbate.
“Can you really keep this guy named Riordan from getting a license?”
“I sure as hell can and I’m going to.”
“I suppose it’s really just a matter of him qualifying, huh. You don’t really make the decision yourself?”
“You damn right I make the decision. Riordan and me go back a long ways. He pissed me off once, but I keep a professional attitude about it.” His grin told Sonny that the “professional attitude” is poison for Riordan.
“What’d the guy do? Cheat you?”
“He insulted me twenty years ago. He was just a kid at the time, about your age, so I couldn’t do anything about it, but I don’t forget and don’t forgive.” He got cautious again. “But like I said, I won’t let it affect my decision about the license.”
“I’m getting excited being here with you,” Sonny Boy said. His voice was low and husky. He took Ricketts’s hand and put it on his erection, squeezing the hand against his cock.
Ricketts froze with the dick in his hand. He couldn’t speak.
“Could we just go to my grandmother’s house and talk?” Sonny asked. “I have to be alone with you or I’ll die.”
“Turn it off,” Zack said.
Moody stopped the audiotape of Ricketts and Sonny in the car. Zack refused to view them naked in “Grandmas” house.
“Hell,” Moody said, “we’re just getting to the good parts. By the time he’s fucking Sonny in the ass, he’s bragging how he’s going to deny your license just to spite you. He just couldn’t help bragging.”
“Disgusting bastard,” Zack said.
“Which one?”
“Both. I have no pity for Ricketts
; he’s a cocksucker—literally—but I don’t like handling the dirt.”
“That’s why I get the big bucks. You’ll understand the true meaning of that phrase when you get my bill for this. There’s nothing cheap about Sonny but his morals.”
Whatever the price was, it was cheap. Ricketts would have cost him control of the casino. And it was the closing bell on the betrayal of Betty by the justice system.
“Send the tapes to the gaming board—anonymously, of course. They wouldn’t dare refuse me a license after hearing that their chief investigator had set out to shaft me. And, hey, didn’t you tell me Ricketts was involved in a nasty divorce? Send it to his wife. No, to Bevard, his father-in-law. The old man will know how to use it.”
“Jesus, Zack, you are a vindictive bastard, aren’t you.”
“Ricketts is paying for his sins. I’m just God’s messenger.”
“You still have a problem with Dirkson.”
Dirkson was the agent-in-charge of the local FBI office and supervised the federal investigation into Zack’s and A-Ma’s backgrounds. He was less dangerous than Ricketts because his recommendations didn’t carry the weight of an in-house probe. The gaming board was chafing under recent criticism from Dirkson and wasn’t in a mood to tow the line with the feds. But Dirkson was critically important in linking A-Ma with organized crime figures in the Far East.
“I got to know Dirkson well when I was working homicide. He’s never won any popularity contests at the agency. More than one agent left the agency to get away from the guy. I had a couple of his old ‘buddies’ come into town last week, a man and woman who left to take high-paying jobs with a Wall Street firm that investigates billion-dollar mergers. They got Dirkson on tape using the ‘C’ word, ‘N’ word, and ‘K’ word.”
“Which are?”
“Dirkson said he’d rather see ‘chinks’ with a big club in Vegas than ‘niggers,’ who’d call their club Uncle Tom’s Cabin. And either would be better than the kike mafia that runs the town.”
“How’d you do it? How did you know that Dirkson has a racist streak?”
Sin City Page 30