by Cooper, Doug
Crystal went through the whole story, or at least as much as anyone would with someone whom she had just met. With each question, Crystal became more uncomfortable, squirming in her seat, breaking eye contact for longer periods of time, distracted by the slightest activity around them. She told Penny how the show she had moved for closed before it even opened due to financing issues, and she was never able to get another decent theater job, so she started dancing to pay the bills and just never stopped. She left out all the negative stuff: how her mom died so she had nothing to go back to in LA, how she got hooked on cocaine and Roxies just to get through the day, and how she blew through all her savings and lost her condo and car gambling and partying. She knew her life was depressing. She didn’t need to bring others down as well, and she didn’t need to remind herself of the mistakes she made. There was another level of acceptance in saying the whole thing all at once and out loud. She was OK with just sharing the causes. They were out of her control. It was the effects, the things she could change, that she didn’t like to acknowledge.
“I’m sorry for all the questions,” Penny said. “Old habits are hard to break.” She paused, expecting Crystal to ask a follow-up question, but Crystal didn’t bite. Penny continued the one-sided conversation, offering information about herself. “I used to be a reporter. Sometimes I forget I’m not anymore and snap back into work mode.” Penny hesitated again, waiting for Crystal to speak. Penny shook her head. “Boy, you really aren’t very good at this, are you?”
The direct question pulled Crystal’s gaze from the playground back to Penny. She said, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I told you I’m conversationally challenged. People always seem more than willing to talk about themselves and share on their own.”
“But that’s the story they want you to hear, the one they tell themselves.” Penny drained the last of her juice, slurping as she moved the straw along the bottom, sucking up every last particle.
Crystal said, “So you think I’m lying?”
“Not at all. I’m sure what you told me is true. It’s what you left out that makes a good story. Let’s take me, for example. I can tell you that I used to be a TV sports reporter in St. Louis and married to a professional hockey player, that I got divorced because he didn’t support me and moved to Las Vegas for a new job and a fresh start. It sounds very healthy and positive. While all of it is true, there is so much more to the story.”
Crystal still didn’t bite. She had had enough for the day. “You’re probably right,” she said, agreeing so that there was nothing more to talk about. She stood up and walked toward her bike. “Thanks for the chat. I should probably get going. Have to work later.”
Penny didn’t seem offended by the abrupt exit, as if she were used to people recoiling from her incessant inquiries. Crystal really didn’t care if she was. She thought she was doing great just being there. It was the longest sober conversation she had had with anyone in as long as she could remember.
Dow Jones Close: 15,928.56
Chapter Eight
Date: Thursday, May 2, 1996
Dow Jones Open: 5,574.86
Darlene greeted Bill at the door with a kiss. Her slight build forced him to bend down significantly since she only came up to his chest. They walked back into the house together. He rested his hand on her shoulder, twirling the strands of her short, auburn hair that covered the nape of her neck. Regardless of the day at work he might have had, she always started off the second part of his day—the most important part—on a positive note. It always gave him something to look forward to on his way home. Bill knew plenty of his coworkers’ wives jumped all over their husbands the instant they set foot in the door. The only thing ever resulting from that was their husbands quit coming directly home and stopped off at the pub first.
Immediately after the kiss, Darlene exchanged the beer and newspaper in her hand for his gun belt and locked it in the safe next to their bed. Their son Hughie was eighteen and, at six foot four, more of a Hugh than a Hughie, so the gun really didn’t need to be locked up anymore, but just like their son would always be Hughie, the gun would always be safely put away when Bill was home. He suspected it also served as a sigh of relief when she shut and locked the safe. It meant they had made it through another day and were one day closer to when she wouldn’t have to worry whether or not Bill would make it home safe and sound. That was what most things with Darlene were about—feeling secure.
Bill finished his beer and made it through the sports section undisturbed. Wanting another one, he got up and lumbered to the kitchen. He walked in as Darlene was lowering a bottle from her lips. “Aha! Caught you red-handed. That’s one way to get me to drink less.” He kissed her on the cheek. Her face was blank. He felt her body tighten. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m only joking. Have as much as you want.”
“No, it’s not that,” Darlene said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Bill led her by the hand to the table. “Of course. Come on. Let’s sit down.”
Tears trickled down her face. “I wasn’t snooping. I promise. I was just doing laundry. Had a load of darks to top off. I swear.”
“Shhh, shhh, shhh. It’s OK.” Bill rubbed her back. “Just slow down and start at the beginning.”
“Like I said, I was doing a laundry sweep and needed darks, so I went into Hughie’s room. His duffel bag was lying open on the floor next to the bed. I could see jeans and a sweatshirt inside. I emptied out the duffel bag onto the bed.” The tears gave way to sobbing. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not his.”
“It’s OK, Darlene. Just tell me what you found.” Bill’s first thought was that she had found some pornography or maybe condoms. Something no mother wanted to find and be forced to face that her baby boy was growing up. She had always coddled Hughie too much anyway in Bill’s opinion. He said, “Hughie’s eighteen now. He’ll be in college next year. We have to let him go and be his own man.”
Darlene rubbed her eyes. “But this is bad. I don’t know how this happened.”
Bill became concerned. He stood from the table. The compassion disappeared from his voice. Only the hard edges remained. “Show me what you found.”
Darlene remained at the table. It was as if, now on the threshold of the moment, she wanted to delay the outcome as long as possible, or maybe even take back everything she had said.
Bill charged off toward Hughie’s room. “Forget it. I’ll find it myself.”
Darlene trailed after him. “Now we don’t know for sure it’s his. Let’s not jump to any conclusions.”
Bill barreled into Hughie’s room. He snatched the duffel bag off the floor and rummaged through the inside. All movement stopped. His gaze locked onto one object. He tossed the duffel bag on the floor. In his hand remained a gallon freezer bag with a small digital scale, what looked to be several ounces of marijuana, and a bag of ten to fifteen grams of white powder.
Darlene stood in the doorway. “Maybe it’s not his.”
“I can’t believe he would bring this into our house.” Bill removed the white powder and held it up to the light, flicking the bag several times to check the consistency. He opened the bag and smelled the contents. “I don’t think it’s coke. Seems to be MDMA. The guys at the station will have to test it.”
Darlene walked over and put her arm around him. “Come on, we don’t have to involve them.”
“Darlene, I’m a police officer. I can’t pick and choose which laws to enforce.”
“But you’re a father first,” Darlene said. “Can’t you for once put your family before the job?”
“Why do you think I go to that job and risk my life every day? To provide for this family, to send him to college.” Bill stood, dropped the bag of powder into the freezer bag, and tightened the seal. “If it got out that I covered up a crime like this, I could get suspended or maybe even lose my job and my pension. Is that what you want
?”
The tears returned. “Of course not. At least let’s wait and hear what he has to say.”
“Call him. Now. Tell him to get his ass home immediately.” Bill tucked the freezer bag under his arm and marched out of the room.
Thirty minutes later Hughie walked through the door. Bill and Darlene were sitting at the table, the freezer bag of drugs between them.
“What’s so urgent?” Hughie’s eyes darted to the bag. “What were you doing in my room going through my stuff?”
Darlene rushed over and threw her arms around Hughie, looking like she wanted to protect him more than to comfort him. She said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just doing laundry.”
“Have a seat.” Bill stood and paced into the kitchen, unsure if he could be so close and control himself. “So you admit it’s yours?”
“It’s not a big deal. Just some weed and Molly.” Hughie sat down. “Me and a few friends went in together. It’s for a party down at the shore this weekend.”
“Not a big deal?” Bill’s voice boomed. “You bring drugs and a scale into a police officer’s home and think it’s not a big deal?”
Hughie scowled. “Of course this is about you. You’re not really concerned about me. Just what it might do to the reputation of the great Bill Price.”
Bill stormed over to Hughie and lifted him out of the chair, pinning him against the wall. Their stares locked. Both knew Hughie could break away if he wanted to.
Darlene shrieked. “Stop it before someone gets hurt.”
Bill released Hughie and stepped back. “Do you realize that with those amounts and a scale, you could get hit with intent to distribute and face five to ten years?”
Hughie said, “Relax. I’m not a drug dealer. I told you, it’s just for a party. Why do you have to assume the worst?”
Bill plucked the bag off the table and shook it in his son’s face. “You think I’m making a big deal out of this? You want to see how serious this is?” He seized Hughie by the arm and pushed him toward the door. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You—”
Darlene chased after them. “Bill, what are you doing? You’re arresting him? This is a family matter.”
Bill stopped in the driveway and turned back toward Darlene. “If he thinks I’m blowing this out of proportion, he can hear it from others down at the station.” He pushed Hughie up against the car and opened the back door. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at the public’s expense. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights and not answer any questions or make any statements. Do you understand each of these rights that I have explained to you?”
“Unbelievable,” Hughie said. “Actually, you know what? It’s totally believable. This is so typical of you. Everything else always comes before us.”
Bill forced Hughie into the back of the squad car. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
At the police station, Bill locked Hughie in the holding cell with the other offenders awaiting processing. He had never planned for it to go this far. He thought he would just threaten Hughie and that would be enough, but when Hughie was defiant, Bill escalated his actions. The more Hughie pushed back, the more Bill felt he needed to send a message. As he had the drugs measured and verified, he knew everything was spiraling out of control, but it was too late to pull back. He convinced himself it was for Hughie’s own good.
When it was time to question Hughie, Bill requested another on-duty officer do it, along with one of the public defenders to advise Hughie. Bill just watched through the glass in the next room. Hughie’s defiance had transformed to disinterest, staring off into space. The officer explained the fifty-six grams of marijuana was a fourth-degree offense, punishable with up to eighteen months in jail. He went on to advise that because MDMA was a schedule I drug and the amount, at fifteen grams, was between a half ounce and fifty grams, Hughie could face between five and ten years in prison.
Hughie looked at the glass to where he thought Bill was standing on the other side. “OK, I get it. You made your point.”
Hughie’s lawyer put his hand on his arm. “It’s best if you don’t say anything.” He looked at the officer. “Could you leave us for a moment so I can confer with my client in private?”
Bill met the officer in the hall.
The officer said, “How far you want us to take this, Bill?”
“If he wants to play these games, treat him like any other criminal.” Bill was strong on the outside, but twisted up inside. He really didn’t know what to do, so he just followed protocol.
“I’m no lawyer,” the officer said, “but you know how these things go. Technically, the drugs were not found in his possession.”
“They were in his bag in his room,” Bill said.
“In your house,” the officer said. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot of gray area here. He got the message. Let’s just keep the drugs and call it a day.”
No matter how much Bill wanted to, he wouldn’t back down. He couldn’t. He knew a lot was at risk, but he felt it would be much worse if he let Hughie slide. “Charge him for possession,” he said. “Let the prosecutor decide what to do.”
Bill left the station alone that night, at least content to let Hughie sit there all night and think about the looming consequences. But when Bill came home by himself, Darlene was as angry as Bill had ever seen her. They didn’t fight often. Matter of fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time they had even argued, but he never forgot this fight, and it only got worse when she returned home after bailing out Hughie.
Bill was reclined in his chair watching TV when Hughie barreled through the door and marched straight to his room. Bill didn’t say a word.
Darlene came in next. Her eyes were red from all the crying. Her voice cracked. “Are you just going to sit there and let him do this?”
Bill’s tone was flat, barely audible over the TV. “Do what?”
Darlene grabbed the remote and muted the sound. “He’s leaving. I hope you’re happy.” She tore off to Hughie’s room.
Bill could hear them talking, but couldn’t make out what was being said. He pushed out of the chair and plodded to Hughie’s room. Standing in the doorway, he watched Hughie stuffing clothes into the duffel bag. Bill said, “At least you figured out the proper use for that bag.”
Hughie stopped packing just long enough to scowl in Bill’s direction. “Well, it’s not really any of your concern anymore. I’m leaving.”
Darlene said, “Will you both just stop being so stubborn? Let’s sit down and talk and figure out a solution.”
Hughie peeled off his comforter and folded it into a rectangle. “It’s too late for that.”
“And where exactly will you go?” Bill asked.
“Anywhere I want,” Hughie said. “I’m eighteen.”
All Bill could think about was the time Hughie threatened to run away when he was seven because they wouldn’t buy him a new bike. Back then Bill had helped him pack, and Darlene even prepared Hughie a lunch to take along. After Hughie left, he circled the block the block a few times, and came home. Bill was sure it would be the same this time. “Well, as long as you have a plan.” Bill turned and retreated to his and Darlene’s room. He was done with the foolishness.
Dow Jones Close: 5,498.27
Chapter Nine
Date: Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Dow Jones Open: 16,126.23
“What’s that smell?” Penny asked, staring at her two fours against my five. “I mean, I’ve been trying to place it since my first time here. I know part of it is menthol cigarettes, but I can’t quite nail down the rest.” She drained her vodka and water, shaking the ice at the nearby waitress to signal she wanted another.
Penny was the hardest one of the
five for me to figure out. Most people play blackjack for one of three things: money, challenge, or belonging. She never seemed to care about how much she won or lost, so financial gain wasn’t a priority. She was slowly learning the game, but to be honest, she also seemed perfectly happy just to follow what others told her, so I didn’t think she was in it for the thrill or strategy. That left belonging. But she didn’t seem lonely. To be blunt, she was a drop-dead knockout. She could have gone anywhere she wanted and had men falling over themselves to hang out with her. On top of it all, her personality seemed pretty solid. She could talk to anyone about anything and was good at getting others to talk about themselves. Of course, she had the fake boobs and puffy lips, but, who with any bit of money didn’t have some plastic surgery? I mean, was it even a red flag anymore? My go-to strategy in deciphering a person’s code was to find the cracks. Everyone had them. Just some were better at hiding them. And so far, I hadn’t been able to see hers…yet.
“It’s old people—combination of cheap perfume and unchanged diapers,” the twenty-five-year-old kid from Dallas sitting at third base said. He wore a ten-gallon hat and had the typical Texas drawl and boundless confidence to match. He motioned to Penny’s two fours, rubbing the couple days of stubble on his chin. “What’s your play, darlin’?”
I offered my advice. “The pair of fours is one of the most misplayed hands in blackjack because the play changes according to the rules of the game. If you can double off the split, you should against a five or six. If you can’t, just hit, except in single-deck. Then you double.”
“I guess I’ll split then.” Penny pushed two red chips into the center. She inhaled another deep breath through her nose. “This smell is driving me crazy. Worse yet, when I go home, it’s in my hair, and it’s all I can smell.” The waitress brought her a fresh drink. Penny smiled, offering a glimpse of her perfect teeth, or rather veneers. The waitress hesitated, subtly shaking her serving tray speckled with chips and cash from tips. Penny gulped her drink and focused back on the table. The waitress sneered and walked away. She wouldn’t be back for a while.