Long White Con

by Slim, Iceberg

  Folks reseated himself.

  Trevor leapt to his feet and spilled it out. “Chris, I will not let you do this to my friends! I’m the executive in charge of deposits and withdrawals. I’ll back them! I’ll move the Bates money for the score. I’ll see the captain and arrange the fix for the Bates play!”

  Christina said contemptuously, “The captain wouldn’t fix a jay-walking ticket for you now without my approval. Trevor, please sit down. My final answer to you, Trevor, to you all as before, is no.”

  Red-faced and deflated, Trevor left the office. Kid and Folks got to their feet and walked to the open door.

  Christina followed them. “Good-bye, loser.”

  Folks turned. Their eyes locked for a long moment as she stared up into his bland face.

  He said, “I know what you’re thinking when you look at me like that.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You were thinking about the great hitch in my hips on the downstrokes.”

  “You conceited rectum. I was thinking you should be compelled to carry documents.”

  His eyebrows then took a ride. “Documents, Poontang?”

  She frowned. “Don’t call me that! Yes, liar. Documents to prove you’ve got a brain, or even a heart. You’ve struck out all around. Hallelujah!”

  He smiled smugly. “Now you’re a liar, Poontang.” He started to turn away.

  She seized and gripped his sleeve and said harshly, “I’m too good for you, Utah Wonder. Go back to the coal pit plantation with Little Eva. On Saturday nights, you can ditch her as you certainly will, to get a belly full of rot gut whiskey and take a five dollar bill to a two buck whore and live happily ever after!”

  He stabbed an index fingernail into the tender web between the thumb and index finger of her hand clutching his sleeve. She snatched her hand away and pressed her lips against the wound like a little kid. She bombed a fist at his groin that missed as he turned his hip to catch the blow.

  “You rotten bastard!”

  He shaped an amused smile and turned away as she banged the door shut. Kid compulsively shook his head as they went to the street, across the sun-splashed sidewalk to the Eldorado. Folks got in next to Speedy under the wheel as Kid got in the back. He threw his head back and he closed his eyes, pressing the knuckles of his hands against his temples as Speedy pulled the car into traffic.

  The Kid moaned and said, “The museum, the mansion, the ghost town set-ups are waiting. We got a mark that stands to drop a mil! But we’ve got no fixes to back the play. I think I’m having a stroke! I warned you she was too raw.”

  “Save the stroke, Pappy, for a proper occasion. We’ll play for Bates. I’ve got the angle to turn Christina around. All Speedy has to do is get me inside the castle to make it work.”

  “What?”

  Folks laughed. “Yeah, lopear. Who the hell else can get me in except you, the chief of security.”

  Kid moaned, “Have you lost your alleged mind? I just saw that wildcat try to punch off your balls. So how in the hell do you figure to turn her around?”

  “I can turn that witch around. I know I can!”

  Kid said, “I’ve laid out a bundle for the Bates play, including the production of a documentary film convincer. We’re about to be ridden out of town on a rail. Is it asking too much for a hint as to what your turn around angle is for that broad?”

  “Trust me, Pappy! Keep the faith. Speedy believes I’ll find and punch her ‘yes’ button, don’t you, pal?” Folks laughed.

  Speedy hee-hawed. “Sure, Saul. He’s got a sure-shot angle. He’s going to snatch Victoria, tie me into a kidnap beef and hold the old lady for fix ransom until Christina turns around.”

  Folks cuffed the side of Speedy’s head and knocked off his brand new hat.

  Speedy replaced it on his long head and exclaimed, “My fifty buck lid!”

  Folks said, “I’m so sure I can turn her around in the next two days that I’m making an appointment today with Bates to tour his ranch for sale this weekend. So Speedy, swing the castle gates wide tonight for Christina’s heart throb!”

  Speedy said, “Make it late, Buddy. There’s a big bash at the castle tonight.”

  Kid said, “It can’t work.”

  Folks said, “It will work. She’s a fantasy freak. By purest chance I spun her sex tumblers to open her up. She’s hooked and hot! I’m her composite living link-up, rare and secret treasure.”

  Kid said, “Hot to cross you.”

  “Draw charts on marks, Pappy. Leave the broads to me. Sure, on the surface she despises me. But that’s only a gauge of Christina’s underbelly of bitch dog heat and yen for me. The psychology is the same as when Mary Smith, the punishment junkie, heckles her old man until he drags her to fist alley. Afterwards, both the freaks get hyped to hump up a storm to make up.

  “Christina is like that in a scaled down way. I’ll play Mary Smith’s old man for her. I’ll corner her. I’ll chastise her with my whip, and turn her around. She’ll be easy, friends. Christina can’t douche me down her erotic toilet just like that. I refuse to let her sucker me out into the cold. Camille Costain did it. But never again!”

  Kid mused bitterly, “Laddies, I’ll have to confess, I’ve been a lopeared sucker for fluffs since I escaped the plow and the stink of mule farts down home in Mississippi. I was twenty before I got laid. My pappy was a racist bastard, the cruelest cocksucker slavemaster in the county, if not the state. There were six of us boys that slaved in the fields from dawn to dusk under Pappy’s eye. His tyranny killed my mother. He almost beat me to death with a tow chain when he caught me shooting the breeze with a black chum I liked. I was sure I’d kill him after that, if I didn’t leave. So, I sneaked away and joined a medicine show as a shill to learn the fundamentals of the con. Then the carnival flat joints. At thirty I was playing long con and hooked on fancy fluffs and bright lights, a zillion miles from those goddamn mule farts!”

  Speedy said, “I’m beginning to feel lucky I blew my storm and strife.”

  Folks said, “Janie isn’t coming back from L.A.?”

  Speedy sighed. “Miss Suction Pussy got her heart heisted again by a high school beau . . . called me this morning. She was sweet . . . had a washboard cave. I got no beef. She’s twenty-two, I’m fifty-two. I held her for a month. That’s not bad for an old gee.

  “But my track record with broads has always been hassled. I was just a liver-lipped Harlem orphan that rose to become a first grade detective in the Apple’s bunco squad. A tramp bitch got my nose open wide enough to park a Mack truck. I wasted a pretty joker I caught banging her. Maybe I shoulda wasted her and let him slide. Did a dime in the joint before they cut me loose. Played the con in the streets to survive. Janie was the second broad that got in my bed without a sawbuck up front on the dresser. Since I got a face like the Original Man’s, that ain’t hard to understand.”

  Folks leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes and visualized Pearl beside him in his bed. An abysmal downer snared him as he realized how much he missed her. Yes, he told himself. How much I love her! Christina, the poisonous bitch! She forced herself into my life. She’s to blame! His scrotum sparkled with hatred, with desire more powerful than his love for Pearl.

  CHRISTINA TURN AROUND

  A half hour before ten that evening, Folks packed his Aztec Billy costume and make-up kit into an overnight case and drove to the Buckmeister castle. Speedy was at the gates to receive him. He pulled the Eldorado into a parking area clogged with Mercedes, Rolls and Cadillac limousines.

  Speedy whisked him into the security building and said, “You can watch the bash on a monitor. There’s a coffee urn in the corner.” Then he locked him in.

  Folks lit a cigarette and sat down on a couch facing the bank of monitors. He intently watched the one with the image of the Buckmeister dining room. A hundred odd, formally attired men and women, most of them in control of multi national corporations, sat at a long rectangular banquet table in the luxurious room. A bat
tery of crystal chandeliers blazed dazzling light from the high ceiling.

  Crystal glassware and gold serviceware glittered on snowy damask table covering before them as their cultivated conversation hummed through the monitor. Their impressive names and titles were embossed on gold leafed place cards.

  Christina was an empress vision gowned in spangled black lace at the end of the table. Trevor, distinguished, aristocratic and handsome, sat at the other end of the table. Swarms of waiters scurried in puce uniforms with chest pockets embroidered with the Buckmeister coat of arms, an ancient Buckmeister knight on steed slaying a dragon. The waiters poured champagne into crystal goblets.

  Trevor stood with goblet in hand. In the hush he said, “To the guest of honor, my beloved sister, Christina.”

  The guests rose, aimed their faces and glasses toward Christina and sipped before they sat down.

  Christina rose, with glass in hand. She smiled at a blond stringbean of a man at mid table with a perpetual dour expression on his handsome face.

  Christina said, “Ladies and gentlemen, let us toast and honor the man, the proverbial heartbeat away, the honorable Chester Wiggins, the Vice-President of the United States!”

  Wiggins nodded with a meager smile as the guests stood and toasted him.

  Christina said, “Please keep your feet, ladies and gentlemen. Let us now toast and honor a truly great and legendary lady. My friendship with most of you, my happiness, my success is due to the influencing, the caring of one of this century’s most prestigious business women . . . the Grand Dame of finance and humanity, my ailing mother. The beloved Victoria Buckmeister!”

  The guests toasted, then applauded enthusiastically. They descended en masse toward Christina, standing smilingly to receive their warm attention and congratulations.

  Folks heard a joyful cackle of triumph from the adjacent private room. Curious, he walked into the room to the monitor with the image of Victoria’s bedroom. A withered octogenarian R.N. in a wilted white uniform was seated on the side of Victoria’s bed watching a closed circuit image of the dining room. Victoria, propped up on pillows, picked at banquet food on a tray across her lap. She childishly clapped her hands as she stared excitedly at the screen.

  The R.N. said, “Congratulations, dear Victoria. Your dream has come true for Christina. Not in twenty years have I seen you so happy.”

  Victoria burst into tears. She sobbed, “Ella! Thank you! Thank you so much. Ella, I’m so happy! And proud!”

  Then Victoria frowned and suddenly seized the R.N.’s sleeve. She clutched it desperately as her pitiful face stared up and she said, “Ella, please! Tell me, Ella, it’s true! Tell me, Ella! It’s real what I saw. Tell me it’s not like the other splendid things that I’ve only imagined. Help me, Ella!”

  The R.N. leaned over and pressed Victoria tenderly back to the security of the pillows. She kissed her forehead and patted her hands. “Dear, it’s real! You can trust me.”

  Victoria sighed. “Oh, thank you, Ella. Thank you so much. Oh, you precious angel, think of it! The Vice-President congratulated my baby! I’m so happy I could die this moment!”

  “Yes, it is just wonderful, but you must not overexcite yourself. Please eat your dinner.”

  Folks watched Trevor enter the room. Trevor was still immaculate in his impeccable, formal attire as he walked to the bed. He was obviously tipsy as he plopped down heavily on the side of the bed beside his mother and Ella.

  Trevor slurred, “Mother, you must release Ella now. She must get some rest.”

  Victoria kissed Ella. Ella rose and moved away from the bed toward the door. Trevor rose and followed her.

  “Just a moment, Ella.”

  Ella stopped and smiled.

  “You’re precious, Ella. Mother is radiant this evening.”

  Ella said, “Yes Trevor, I’m happy she’s been lucid. Rational as you and myself since early afternoon.”

  “Small wonder, Ella. Her bright little student grew up to pre-empt me.”

  Ella pressed fingers against his lips. “Now, Trevor!”

  Trevor wove a little as he pressed her hands to his cheeks. His voice trembled with emotion. He said, “Nanny, I love you. Don’t ever leave us . . . me!”

  Ella said, “Now, stop that, Trevor!”

  “Admit it, Ella, you are the only caring mother, Chris and I have had since infancy.”

  Ella kissed Trevor, pulled away and departed. Trevor went back to the bed. He stood for a long moment with cold eyes watching Victoria eat. Then he flopped himself full length on the bed. He rested his face on his palms and elbows as he stared at Victoria’s palsied ineptitude with knife and fork.

  He smiled wickedly as he said, “Careful, you clumsy prune!”

  Victoria whined, “Don’t call me names, you torturer. Get out!” She gagged on her food and wailed, “Trevor, get the hell out of here so I can enjoy my food.”

  Trevor grinned at her maliciously as she resumed eating. A bit of salad dressing dribbled down Victoria’s shin as she spastically forked salad into her mouth. Trevor cocked his head from side to side like a curious robin, observing a hapless earthworm.

  He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, saying, “Mother! You have a blob of food on your chin. Oh! What a slob!”

  He reached into the tray for a napkin. She recoiled, snatched the napkin and frantically blotted her chin clean.

  Victoria’s voice trembled on the rim of hysteria. “Ella! Ella! Trevor’s attacking me again. Trevor, go away! I’m getting sick again. Please Trevor, go away! Ella!”

  Trevor taunted, “Mother, save your breath. Ella won’t be back tonight.”

  Victoria backhanded her fork at Trevor’s face. Trevor narrowly escaped as he scuttled away across the bed. Victoria feebly attempted to hurl the tray of food. Instead, she only succeeded in dumping it atop the satin quilt.

  Trevor stood beside the bed, staring down at her. He said with a smirk, “You’ve lost your temper, Mother, like an emotional peasant. Mother, you always flogged my ass for that, remember, Mother?” Trevor fingered his belt buckle. “What was good for the goslin is doubly good for the crazy old gander!”

  Victoria cringed away. She screamed, “Ella! Ella! Help me!”

  Folks saw Ella dash into the room glaring at Trevor. Trevor hurriedly left.

  Folks went back to the couch as Speedy keyed in and sat down beside him. They drank coffee, and sat down beside him. They drank coffee, smoked and talked until one A.M. Then Speedy escorted him to Christina’s quarters in a secluded wing of the castle. Speedy nodded his head toward Christina’s bedroom door as they soundlessly moved on airy carpet past it. Folks went into a vacant guest room bathroom to put on his Aztec Billy make-up and costume.

  He went to her door, kneeled and put his eye close to the key hole. She was nude with her razzle of alabaster curves showcased on the pink satin spread of her mammoth bed. She undulated her bottom on a satin pillow, with crotch agape, in the pink glow of a nightstand lamp. Her hand pushed up a long plump breast to rake her teeth across the erected Bing cherry nipple. Her eyes were shuttered as she furiously jiggled the thumb tip of her other hand against her pygmy dingus. Her tapered shiny-wet fingers alternately thrusted to disappear into her four inch cone of fat blond bush.

  He silently turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, then stood at the threshold watching her as she groaned and cavorted toward climax.

  He clucked and said softly, “Naughty, naughty. Our Johnny would want you punished.” He undid his fly.

  Her eyes popped open, her face frozen in an expression of total flabbergast as she stared at the apparition. His eyes flashed blue flame in his Rasputin visage, framed by the long platinum wig. Her lips moved mutely as she struggled to speak.

  He pressed an index finger against his lips. “S-s-s-sh! I will say everything . . . do everything you want to do.”

  He glided toward her with a crooked urchin smile as she snatched a pearl-encrusted Derringer from an open nigh
tstand drawer and tremulously aimed it at him as she sat on the far edge of the bed.

  She gasped, “I’ll kill you! Get out! Please!”

  He oozed closer and jerked his hips. His ten inch monster lunged from the lair of his open fly. Her bottom lip trembled uncontrollably as she gazed hypnotically at the poignant ragamuffin’s member bloated with blood in the pink ambience.

  She waggled the Derringer and shouted, “Please don’t make me kill you! Take that back to your jigaboo bitch.”

  He kissed, caressed the air between them with his fingertips and crooned as he floated to the bedside, “Johnny loved Pearl, but he loves you more. He’s sent her away forever.”

  She stared at him transfixed and he gently lifted the pistol from her hand and flung it away to the carpet.

  She exclaimed, “You’re insane! Please! I can’t let . . .”

  He caressed her lips mute with his fingertips, then her throat and her nipples as he kneed her thighs apart. She moved her lips to protest but he leaned and smothered them with a feathery kiss. Her eyes softened doe-like as her fingertips sensuously stroked the backs of his hands caressing her ears.

  She buried her face in his groin and sobbed, “Oh, you adorable maniac! Angel from the coal pits, I’m still mad about you!”

  He thought, it’s prat-out time to cinch her as he scuttled away across the carpet with a sly old face. Her eyes brimmed tears as she leapt to her feet in pursuit, and he let her catch him at the door.

  She clutched him desperately to her, weeping even as she laughed uncontrollably and begged, “Please don’t leave me, you gorgeous, sweet, ugly sonuvabitch!” She slipped the Aztec Princess ring from his finger and slipped it on her finger. “I love you. I can’t do without you,” she said as she led him to the side of the bed.

  She sat down on the side of it and she yelped ecstatically as he seized her hair and yanked her head to his crotch. A torrent of hateful triumph drowned his mind. Grenades of power wobbled his knees as he watched her deep-throat his organ with feline purrs of surrender.