by Harper, Chap
A date with Richie Gambini was actually set up by relatives, and everyone had their eyes open and arms held out for a “family union.” They were married in a Catholic ceremony with hundreds in attendance. Long lines of black SUVs lined the streets in front of the church, each one guarded by a couple of goons with flowers in their lapels and machine guns under their coats. Trust of other families was not an abundant asset on that day.
The Matranga family did business in Orleans Parish and the Gambinis in St. Bernard Parish. Katrina had affected them all and there was great interest in what Spider was trying to accomplish in Hot Springs. Not so much concern for her success—they just wanted to know where she was in case her past activities back in New Orleans needed to be rectified.
She had quietly come to the Spa City a few years back and bought out two strip clubs and an Asian massage parlor. Spider’s call girls worked at all three places and had beautiful websites. All the city laws were followed for the strip clubs, and generous and identifiable donations were given to the sheriff’s boys’ ranch and the police charities. A manager for these places was brought from New Orleans as were a stable of sexy girls for the clubs and extracurricular activities. The former owner, Vander Usterhoff, had employed several girls, yet most of them were just butt ugly. He still owned a big escort business in two states based out of Hot Springs, and it was a constant source of irritation for Spider to make sure her girls didn’t sneak around and work as escorts for Vander’s operation. She had tried in vain to buy the escort business.
“Spider, I’ll sell all the girls, limos, guns and drivers to you for one million in cash,” Vander told her a couple years back.
Spider refused. “Vander, there are escorts and there are whores. Your girls barely qualify as the latter. Go fuck yourself.”
However, the new girls she brought into the strip clubs caused quite a stir in town among patrons. She brought a few dealers with her and they fanned out in the community to find out the drugs of choice. The reports that came back to Spider were: pot was number one, followed by meth, cocaine, and heroin. The import and manufacture would follow that basic need structure. The S. G. Crystal Mine would be the storage, manufacturing, and distribution center. As much as she hated it, the operation was put in one of her employee’s name.
Guns were a particularly profitable shelf item, and now about $60,000 worth of guns and ammo had been confiscated by the sheriff’s office. They belonged to Spider and Tony jointly, and somehow they had to be replaced. A discussion needed to take place.
“Your fucking retarded Arkansas idiot got my guns snatched! What are you going to do to replace them, Spider?” Tony yelled.
“I lost the same amount you did, Tony. We move on and make it up in gun sales. Five M-60s and ten AKs and we recoup our losses,” said Spider. She had her ear buds plugged into her cell phone while she touched up her fingernails with a bright orange color. “I need inventory whether you go in or not.”
“I tell you what—you find a good place to store them, and I’ll think about it. No damn rent house in the middle of the woods. Capisce?”
“Capisce. Talk to you when I find a place.”
Spider put her cell phone down next to her plate which held an omelet too big for her to eat. She carved off about half of it; she would take the rest home with her. Spider was in Hester’s Café, which was filled with tired furniture and décor but was a spot that mostly blue-collar patrons found comfortable. Smoking was not allowed, but a residual smell lingered in the air from the twenty or thirty years that it had been a favorite activity. Looking down at her coffee, she wondered if there had been a conscious attempt to match her hair color with the amount of cream she had added to the hot liquid. Coffee was something she drank for the effect but really liked the cream and sugar better.
She pulled a newspaper up to the table from the booth seat, and the front page headline blasted through her brain: “Shoot Out at Local Bait Store Leaves Two Dead.”
“What the f…!” she started to say out loud and realized there were kids in a nearby booth.
“Lester McFarlin, an off duty sheriff’s deputy interceded in a robbery and attempted murder of Jody Woodward, owner of Jody’s Bait and Tackle store yesterday in Joplin, Arkansas.”
She then read the names of the two deceased robbers and recognized them as recent gun clients and part-time dealers. If they had also used her whorehouses—well, that was yet another loss.
As she read further, she realized that Jody’s place was closed until later notice. He was still in St. Vincent’s hospital in fair condition. A thought rushed through her head…What if he would sell his place? It would be perfect if she had a buyer whose record was clean enough to get the liquor license transferred. She might add on a bunker on the back for the guns. Her next call was to the real estate lady who sold her a nice condo on Lake Hamilton.
“Lauren, this is Angel Gambini. How are you today? Listen, it was terrible about Mr. Woodward who owns Jody’s Bait and Tackle being shot and all. His place is over in Joplin. Do you know it? Good. I wonder if he would be willing to sell. I know it’s a terrible time for him, but he just might want to get out of the business. It said in the paper that he was sixty-six years old, so maybe he’d like to retire. I know someone who would run it for me. Would you be so kind as to call him? See if he has a figure in mind and tell him we want it now before his inventory goes bad. Thanks.” When she thought about the inventory, she could see minnows going belly-up and crickets dying of whatever crickets die of.
Spider gathered up all her things, including a box for her half-eaten breakfast, paid her bill and walked back to the table to drop a dollar tip on the table. She had planned to go back to her condo, but did not want to be alone tonight. She would call Stick to see if he would keep her company for a while. He would never be her first choice for any long-term relationship, but for an hour or so of sex he would do. Hopefully, she would hear from Lauren, and if the news was good she would have the last part of her empire in place very soon. She was also glad that Lester McFarlin had been suspended. She could relax for a few days. Spider fantasized that it would be much nicer if Lester were coming over instead of Stick.
Chapter Eight
In her best professional voice, Debi answered Lester’s call as she saw her last patient and expressed an interest in talking to him afterwards. Truthfully, it was the call she had waited for all day.
“Lester, we seem to talk every day. Don’t you think we’ll get tired of each other?”
“Never—you’re so interesting and one of the best kissers I’ve ever known.”
“Who was the best?”
“Molly Lockwood—sixth grade—made my toes curl.”
“I’ll work on the toe-curling technique someday. What’d you call about? Or did you just feel a need to make me feel bad about Molly having superior kissing skills?”
“I need your help on a book I’m trying to read.”
“You’ve always found a way before.”
“They didn’t have this one on audio books or braille and it has lots of pictures.”
“Enough suspense—what’s it about?”
“Roses.”
“I see—for impressing my mom? Couldn’t hurt, but might not help. Show up as a nice plastic surgeon and you’ll have a better chance. Okay, where do we meet?”
“My place…or your place if you think we can behave ourselves,” Lester said, thinking there would be a long pause.
She replied immediately. “Your place—I want to see the bat cave!”
Lester gave her his address, which she already knew from his case file. His apartment was also on Lake Hamilton near the Twin Points area and overlooked the main channel. He watched the Belle of Hot Springs go by most nights and hoped the tourists on board were enjoying themselves.
Lester rushed home and tidied up, unpacked some groceries, and opened a bottle of wine for his visitor. He didn’t need to stow away the porn videos or magazines because he didn’t have any. L
ester starred in his own make-believe adult movies, and many girls clamored to have a supporting role of enjoying his company. Remnants of his frequent visitors needed to be removed like the aftermath of a minor crime scene. All he needed was for Debi to find a pair of panties in a drawer in the bedside table or a bra hanging in his closet, or condom wrappers that had missed the trash can. About five o’clock there was a knock on his door, and he hoped to God it was Debi.
She stood outside his door with a bottle of wine in her hand. She was wearing shorts and her tan legs were so sleek and sexy, but Lester tried not to stare. Someday Lester wanted to stare at Debi’s body—all of it for as long as he wanted.
“Will you eat salmon?” Lester asked.
“Love it. Are you going to a lot of trouble?”
“No—just cooked enough to top a salad, if that’s okay?”
“Of course. Do you need some help?”
“Well, I’ll put the salmon on the top of the salad but you can add the other stuff. I have those little oranges, walnuts, avocados, and tomatoes, pine nuts, capers, etcetera, so here’s your plate—have at it.”
Debi created her salad and picked up a glass of wine that Lester had poured, then sat next to him at a small dining room table. Music played in the background. Debi recognized it as Bruno Mars and heard “I will jump on a grenade for you.”
“I like some of his music, but the hip-hop parts—just not my thing,” Lester said.
“Lester, I like your apartment. It has a man cave feel to it, but it’s clean and comfortable. Your artwork is mostly black pen and ink—not a lot of color. Some big photographs of old buildings and women models—some nudes but mostly artsy fartsy and very classy works.”
“May I look around?” she asked.
“Help yourself. Be careful looking in closets—there may be girls hiding in there.”
Debi took her glass of wine and walked into the bedroom and noted that the same style of brooding art work flowed into that room. “So this is where all the fun occurs: women are slain, virgins are de-virginized, and honest women are…well…most of us aren’t honest anyway.”
“You make my life seem so—one dimensional. I do have a job in addition to de-virginizing young girls. However, now it seems boring after you described my love life.”
Debi returned to the table and leaned over and kissed Lester lightly on the lips before she sat in front of her salad. They finished their meal and drank another glass of wine while sitting on Lester’s couch with the book of roses. Lester got up and went to his closet and came back with a strange device that resembled an incomplete typewriter.
“Okay, Debi, if you would be so kind to read me the names and species under the roses where I have placed page markers, I will use this stylus to print braille for me to study later.”
Debi went through floribundas, shrubs, hybrid teas, grandifloras, climbers, ramblers, and then Lester’s favorites, the English Roses and the Bourbons. As she read the names of roses and their classifications to Lester, he typed braille using the stylus, then removed the paper and placed it with the page. He did this on about ten different roses, then asked Debi to read certain pages which he had memorized. He then took the rose book from her and pulled her over to him on the couch. He laid her across his lap and looked down at her while he ran his hands along her beautiful face. He traced her lips with his finger and then said, “Damn, I should have washed that finger.” Debi laughed, and he bent down and kissed her softly at first, then deeper and deeper.
She looked up at him and said, “Do you want me, Lester?”
“You know the answer. Of course I do. I dream up reasons to call you and be with you. I can’t get you off my mind. You’re beautiful, smart, funny, and I’m guessing you look good in the shower,” Lester laughed.
“I feel the same way. I can’t wait until you call me, and I know it shouldn’t be possible this soon, but I’m falling for you more than I should at this point,” Debi said.
“Besides being crazy for you, which is easy, I also want to be your best friend. Someone you can trust and depend on to be there when you need me,” Lester said.
“I can’t believe we’ve known each other about one week, and we’re having a conversation that normally is months away. Is it scaring you away?” Debi asked.
“Not at all. Is it making you nervous?”
“No. If we talked about kids, buying a house, religion, money, and family, would that make you squirm?”
“I want to have kids and buy a house. I want to put together a swing set. I want to be able to read stories to my kids and put them to bed at night. I’m not traditionally religious, probably because my parents were Pentecostal and way too conservative for me. But don’t get me wrong: I love my dad. His name is Adrian McFarlin and hopefully you’ll meet him soon. He’s just a hard-working guy with a great sense of humor. Someday I’ll take you to my church. Money is important to me because of its power, I guess. Tell me how you feel about these things.”
“At least two kids—maybe three. I love that you’ll read to my kids and put together their swing sets. I’m Presbyterian, but our family doesn’t take it seriously. Money’s important so we can take care of our family, drive a nice car, and go on a cruise once in a while,” Debi said.
“My God. If I marry you, I get to go on a cruise. Hot damn!”
“Lester, is there anything about me you don’t like?”
“No. Nothing at all. Well, I haven’t seen you naked yet, so I don’t know what might be lurking beneath all those clothes, but I’m guessing you are put together very well and probably work out to keep your figure. Would you like to go with me sometime to the Y or do you go to one of the fancy gyms?”
“I go to one of the fancy gyms, and I don’t want you to see me sweating—not from working out anyway,” Debi said.
“Is there anything about me you don’t like or would like to change about me, as long as we are opening ourselves up for ridicule?” Lester asked.
“I worry you’re going to be killed by some wacko, but you’re so damn good at what you do I wouldn’t ask you to give it up. Help you pass your exams at the sheriff’s office—that’s on my to-do list, along with learning to read if the operation happens. Also, I haven’t seen you naked yet either, so I have to withhold judgment there. Since I have three beautiful breasts, I’m kind of hoping you have three balls so I won’t be the only freak,” Debi said, laughing.
“I hate to discuss this, but maybe we should get it over with—other sex partners?” asked Debi. She knew she was bringing something up that was way too early in their relationship, but he was easy to talk to. She was pushing it a little. She was curious as to the history of a man who had a reputation of being a womanizer. It was eating at her and had bound her emotions. She wasn’t sure she should get involved any deeper without knowing.
“You first…and are we really ready to go there?” Lester said, a little irritated that he was being investigated.
“For the last couple of years—no three years—it has mainly been Brad. We broke up a couple of times, and there were two other guys during those interims. I always used protection except for the last few months Brad and I were living together. I always used birth control pills as well and still do. How about you?” Debi spoke quickly because she wanted to get to the good stuff.
“This will be a lose-lose proposition for me. For one, I’m four years older than you, so I’ve had longer to be single. If I’d married and gotten a divorce or two, then I’d be marked down for that failure. If I had a couple of long relationships—then why didn’t I marry one of them? If I had a series of short meaningless relationships then maybe I’m shallow and not capable of commitment. Also, if we’re counting the number of times we each had sex—you might win that competition since you actually lived with Brad for a while. I’ve dated a lot of girls and for the most part, very attractive girls who were sweet, nice, and smart, and I slept with a lot of them. You need to know I’m still friends with most all of them. I trea
ted them very well, and some I still see periodically. I just never met one I thought I could really fall in love with until you came along.” Lester took a deep breath and frowned. “I won’t count them and you don’t have to count the times you were intimate with Brad.”
“Okay, Lester, I gleaned from that bit of evasive rambling that you’ve slept with lots of pretty girls and never allowed your emotions to get in the way of your fun. You’re also comparing my sleeping with Brad to your numerous sexual encounters. Is that really fair?” Debi wasn’t mad but a little defensive.
“Debi, yes, I dated some beautiful ladies who’ve by now made good life partners for some lucky men. But as they got serious, I bailed—very quickly before anyone got hurt. If I had the same feelings for them as I’m beginning to have for you, I’d be putting swing sets together. You have to know that I have very strong feelings for you and don’t want it to end—ever. Once I commit—that’s it,” Lester said in a shaky voice, as he knew how strong the loss would be if she were no longer in his life, even after such a short time.
“Then there’s the issue of Molly Lockwood. You know, the toe curler,” Debi said, smiling. She’d decided she’d heard all the sordid sex history she was going to get from Lester and sensed friction between them for the first time. It was uncomfortable, but she felt better.
“It’s possible with a lot of effort you might bounce her out of first place. I’ll warn you—it’ll take a lot of work.” Lester got up and pulled Debi off the couch and into a standing position.
“When can I start?” Debi asked as Lester drew her towards the bedroom.
“Tonight,” Lester said with a huge smile.
“Tonight? How much time will I have? You know it’ll require a long session and great concentration,” Debi said grinning, as she stopped his forward motion and started unbuttoning his shirt. Lester pulled her blouse over her head. Her breasts were bulging out of her bra.