Headlock

by Adam Berlin

“Live a regular life.”

  “What’s that?”

  Gary smiled. He dipped a hunk of meat into the au jus and brought it to his mouth.

  “I used to get these junkets,” Gary said. “I’d bring a bunch of friends to Vegas for a long weekend and we’d always eat here at Bally’s. My friends don’t take long weekends anymore. Dess is the last of a dying breed.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Did you know that Dess was a great wrestler?”

  “He didn’t tell me that,” Tia said.

  “He is. Full scholarship, the works. Don’t tell me you didn’t see some of his wrestling skills.”

  “Shut up,” I said.

  Tia pressed her fork through the pie until it hit the plate.

  “So Tia,” Gary said. “What are your plans for this weekend? We’re booked.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t cut into your quality time.”

  “I’m just telling you. How’s the pie? Better than Denny’s?”

  “Denny’s has pretty good pie.”

  “I’ll have to try it. I never had their pie. How’s the apple?”

  “Great,” I said.

  Gary finished his prime rib in silence. Tia pulled her fork through the melted ice cream, watched the marks fade. I felt it in my throat. For her. For Gary. I had to call home and tell everyone that I would be late. I would say the garage got busy near the holidays. I would say I had to work. I could hear my grandfather’s voice but it sounded different to me and I swallowed.

  “Why don’t you two go up to the room and hang out for a while,” Gary said. “I’m going to finish this delicious prime rib, maybe have some mediocre Bally’s pie. Take a break, Dess. Be a matador. Meet me in front of the elevators in an hour. What time is it? You don’t wear a watch either?”

  “My shift ends at midnight whether I have a watch on or not,” Tia said.

  “So does mine,” Gary said.

  There was a couple drinking coffee at the next table. Gary asked them the time and the man and woman both looked at their watches. The woman got it out first. Five to one. The man said the same thing a beat after her. They’d been together long enough to talk the same. Gary thanked them, said those sounded like pretty good odds and the couple laughed.

  “Meet me at two,” Gary said.

  “Two.”

  “You can join him, Tia.”

  “Won’t I be interrupting your game?” she said

  “As long as you don’t distract Dess you can do whatever you want. It’s a free country. There should be all kinds of people watching me.”

  We went up to the room. Room service had made the beds but hadn’t touched Gary’s clothes, wide swatches of material piled along the carpeted floor. Tia put down her bag with her uniform. I called the operator and put in a wake-up call for five to two. I was raw and I was sick but I couldn’t wait to be with her. I pressed into her, held her arms against the bed so her face would be under mine, so I could look at her mouth and see the sounds as they came out, so I could look at her forehead and see her hair start to wet, see the sweat form and run down her skin, so I could look at her eyes and see the pupils and the blue and the explosions of gray, so I could fuck her for her and fuck her for me and make the time stop, needing her, needing to rip her even more, to be ripped even more, needing to rip through it all and make it stop, time stop, stop to not remember, stop to not think, stop to make it just her and just me and just us, perfect like that and we fucked and fucked and fucked and I tasted my own sweat and tasted her sweat and we fucked until the phone rang and through the phone ringing and then the ringing stopped and I looked at her and told her Now, looking at her, making the now one of those moments, making her know it was one of those moments, so perfect the memory couldn’t make it better, and I said Now and she said Now, the Nows overlapping, eyes to eyes, connected, clear, and it was just the moment and she said Now, her voice lower, quiet.

  We dressed. I had been wearing the same pants for days. I put on fresh underwear and my garage uniform, washed and pressed.

  “Is that your new look?”

  “I’m auditioning for the part of a guy who parks cars for a living. What do you think?”

  “I think you can pull it off.”

  “Put on your Denny’s outfit and we can pretend we’re going to work together.”

  “There’s nothing to pretend for you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know about the matadors.”

  “Gary was just talking.”

  “You didn’t say it. I’m not blaming you. So that’s your uniform.”

  “Service with a smile.”

  “You smile a lot for Gary. At least you did in the restaurant.”

  “Sometimes it’s a real smile. Sometimes I just smile to reassure him. He can tell when. We both have our parts to play.”

  “You’re the wrestler.”

  “I wrestled. Not anymore.”

  I sat on the bed and laced up my work boots.

  “Why did you choose that sport?”

  “My grandfather wrestled.”

  I pulled the laces tight.

  “It can be a beautiful sport when it’s done right,” I said. “Did you ever see a match?”

  “I haven’t. Our high school had a team, but I never watched them. Sometimes when I’m flipping channels I see those idiots on TV jumping on top of each other.”

  “That’s not wrestling. Not real wrestling.”

  “It’s not even real entertainment.”

  “My college coach was sort of a Renaissance man. The first day of practice every year he would sit all of the wrestlers down and talk to us about the history of wrestling. Then he’d show us some slides of wrestlers depicted in art. He wanted to impress upon us that the sport had a history and that we were carrying on a tradition. He said our sport was that holy. Then he’d shut off the slide projector and read to us from Homer in Greek. He told us we should all study Greek to learn discipline, that with a knowledge of Greek we could read the stories about the ancient wrestlers who were noble and brave. Then he’d translate the great man on man battle he’d read from Homer. He told us if we did it right, if we wrestled like the old wrestlers, we’d be moving in a way worthy of being sculpted or painted, worthy of being written about, worthy of poetry, beautiful like that if we did it right.”

  “Did you do it right?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “What about your grandfather?”

  “I never saw him wrestle.”

  I pressed my work boots into the carpet.

  “You’re not here for the art of it. You’re in too much of a rush.”

  “My cousin is in a rush.”

  “You’re here with him. I’ve seen college kids come into town for a good time and lose all their tuition money. I’ve seen couples cut their honeymoons short after an hour at the tables. I’ve seen men carried out of the casinos screaming and I’ve seen other men crying in the street.”

  “It’s not just the casino. I’d walk away if it was just the casino.”

  “It’s that bad.”

  “I told you it was bad.”

  “And your cousin won’t let you walk away.”

  “Before we got here he gave me an out. He was ready to buy me a plane ticket back to New York. I can’t leave him. He’s my cousin and he’s in trouble.”

  “Would he help you if you were in trouble?”

  “I hope he would.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “There’s a lot I don’t know. I’d like to think he would help me if I was in a bind. I’d like to think he’d help me since I’m his cousin. I don’t know. I’m all he has left. There’s no one else he could have turned to.”

  “Plus you’re a wrestler worthy of being sculpted.”

  “Plus that. There’s nothing wrong with knowing how to defend yourself.”

  “You’re not defending yourself.”

  I looked at my work boots. The steel toes were scuffed.

&nb
sp; “I have to go down.”

  “I know you do.”

  She picked up the plastic bag with her uniform in it.

  “Are you going?” I said.

  “I don’t want to get in the way. You could be there all night.”

  “We could. It’s up to Gary. I don’t know how much he’s going to play or how much he’s going to bet.”

  “Or how much he’s going to lose.”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  “That bruise above your eye. Did you get that wrestling right?”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  She touched where I’d been hit and smoothed it with her thumb. I looked past her. The clock on the night table said it was time. I stood up.

  “Try not to blow all your garage money.”

  “It’s all Gary’s money.”

  “Good.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m done with school. I don’t have a mortgage to lose. I’m not even on my honeymoon.”

  “Vegas is the worst place for a honeymoon.”

  “But the best place to find secondhand cars.”

  “The best.”

  “Come down with me. He won’t mind as long as I keep the count.”

  “I’ll stay with you for a while.”

  Tia put the plastic bag on the bed. I took her head in my hand and kissed her and let go and we left the room and went down.

  Gary was walking back and forth in front of the elevators.

  “It’s now or never,” Gary said.

  “Positive attitude,” I said.

  He started to sing it. It’s now or never. He had a nice voice when he sang and even though he wasn’t belting it out his voice filled the marble area in front of the elevators. Tia looked comfortable looking at him, listening to him. She wasn’t embarrassed the way most people would be. Gary ended the song singing just to her. She clapped when he was done and Gary bowed gracefully.

  Gary chose a table, took the black chips he’d been playing with from his pocket, put them on the table and sat down. He waited for the shoe to end, looked at me, nodded, looked back at the table. The dealer fit the cards into the shoe. Gary placed a black chip into the betting circle. We were lined up. Gary. Me. Tia. On the other side of the chip was the casino.

  We worked.

  The streak did not come.

  Outside it was Saturday morning.

  It took a long time for Gary to get himself out of the seat. He was exhausted. He cashed in the few black chips he’d won, put the bills into his deep pocket.

  “We still have some time,” Gary said. “When the real streak comes I’ll have enough money to back it up.”

  “What if we leave?”

  “And go where?”

  “I don’t know. Just leave Las Vegas.”

  “It’s not that easy. It’s like Blue said. There are other Blues. We’ll rest up. We still have a shot. I can always bet it all on red.”

  “That’s what they want you to do.”

  “Let’s get some sleep.”

  Tia touched my arm.

  “Get some sleep,” she said.

  “You can stay with us,” Gary said. “Whatever you want.”

  “What do you want to do?” I said.

  “I’ll stay,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure.”

  We took the elevator up. Gary let Tia use the bathroom first and then me. I looked at my eyes in the mirror. I made a muscle. I hadn’t run in a week, had hardly walked. I had stood. I automatically shifted my weight and faked a shoot at myself, arms out, going for my legs. It didn’t matter. The garage uniform looked smaller than I remembered it.

  Gary asked Tia if the cooks at Denny’s ever messed with the food. Tia said only when the customers were a pain and she asked them to. Gary went to the bathroom. We undressed and got into bed. It was freezing in the room but I didn’t want to wear anything. Tia felt warm against me. Gary came out of the bathroom and shut the lights. There was some daylight coming through the curtains and I watched him put his pants under his pillow. I didn’t blame him. She wasn’t family. He picked up the phone and put in a wake-up call for noon. His breath was labored from getting undressed. He told the operator to write it down twice, to put in two calls. He said he had a plane to catch and couldn’t afford to be late. It was a funny way of putting it.

  “Good night,” he said.

  “Good night,” Tia said.

  “Good night,” I said.

  “Good night, John Boy,” Gary said. “You ever see The Waltons?”

  “I saw some reruns,” Tia said. “Do they still make families like that?”

  “Somewhere they must. Good night, Mary Ellen.”

  “Good night.”

  “Twelve hours,” Gary said. “It’s like an old-time movie with this guy coming for me. The whole point of Las Vegas was to legitimize these tough guys. When Bugsy Siegel got killed it wasn’t in some seedy back alley. He built Vegas. He made them all gentlemen. When they took him out it was in Beverly Hills.”

  “No one’s taking anyone out,” I said.

  “Hey, Dess?”

  “What?”

  “Cut the roughhousing.”

  Gary started laughing.

  “Remember that? Your dad used to tell you that when you and your brother were wrestling around the living room. I used to love watching you two.”

  “I remember.”

  “Cut the roughhousing. A lot of roughhousing with the Roses.”

  “Is that right?” Tia said.

  “All the Roses,” Gary said. “A lot of roughhousing in our house.”

  I closed my eyes. “A lot.”

  Gary’s breaths became heavy. It didn’t take him long to start snoring. Tia moved against me, her hand in my hand, her thumb moving over my palm. I wanted her again but I felt myself going out as hard as I’d gone out the first time I’d been in this bed, after the trip across country, after the lights of Las Vegas brought us in, after we’d won some money that first night, easy money it had seemed to me, easy and fast, all those stories Gary had told us as kids practically true.

  22

  GARY’S FACE RIGHT UP to mine. Hair wet. Dressed. Ready to face the day like he was going to work on a Monday morning. His hand shaking my shoulder. I looked past Gary. Las Vegas light.

  “You up?”

  “They rang already?”

  “We have to play.”

  He was whispering. Her arm was around me. I lifted her hand and moved away from her sleeping body. I sat up in bed.

  “I need you today,” Gary said.

  “I’m here.”

  Gary stepped away from me. Thighs. Crotch. Gut. Chest. Neck. All bigger than life.

  “Do some push-ups or something. Take a shower. Meet me downstairs in half an hour.”

  It was a struggle to do fifty push-ups and I waited for my breath to come back and it was a struggle to do fifty more. I showered and put on my garage uniform and my work boots with the steel toes. I put my hand through her hair. She opened her eyes. I told her to stay in bed, that we’d be downstairs, that she should sleep. I kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket tight around her.

  I leaned against the side of the elevator and closed my eyes to the numbers going down. I hadn’t slept right in days. Our college coach told us that sleep was essential for every athlete and that rest meant strength, quickness and mental alacrity. The tired I felt in the elevator was like being sick. I felt dizzy and weak. I put my hands in front of me. I wasn’t steady and I needed to be steady.

  Gary was red-eyed, pacing, his small hands swinging. He handed me a piece of bread for energy. I bit into it but I wasn’t hungry.

  “Last call,” Gary said.

  “Have you seen him?”

  “He’ll show up. You can bet on that.”

  “I can take him.”

  Gary looked at me.

  “If you don’t jump on my back I can take him,” I said.

  “We’re going to win. I bought
a watch so we’ll know exactly where we stand. Here. It doesn’t fit around my wrist.”

  I put it around my wrist. It had a white face, black numbers, a second hand that stopped on the second, then moved.

  “You ready?” Gary said.

  “Will you remember this?”

  “Remember what?”

  “This. The way you feel right now. A tie around your neck is nothing compared to this.”

  It wasn’t my grandfather’s voice in my head anymore. It was my father’s.

  “Did you ever have a tie around your neck?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. I’ve never even had a watch around my wrist. I don’t care what I’ll remember or won’t remember right now. Right now I have to win some serious money. Are you with me right now?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s time.”

  The digital numbers behind the wrestling mat. A punch clock ticking off the minutes. A cheap watch with a stuttering second hand. I followed Gary’s wide back. He took a seat two seats away from a man in a cowboy hat. I lined up behind Gary. I looked around the casino but the only blue was a string of Christmas lights draped over the rotating car above the slots. Gary reached into his deep pocket and placed the money on the table. The dealer called Check change and the pit boss came over to double-check the counting of bills, the stacking of chips. The dealer slid the chips to Gary. Gary put two black chips in the circle and the last day began.

  Gary bet two hundred dollars a hand. When he lost, he repeated the bet. When he won, he doubled the bet. When he won again, he doubled that. When he won a third time, he doubled again. Then he went back to two hundred. He won four times in a row a few times. He won three times in a row more times than that but then lost on the fourth bet.

  I felt Tia’s hand on my back. The shoe ran out and I looked at her and a new shoe started. Gary won more than he lost but there were no streaks like he had told me about. He asked me the time and I told him it was almost eleven. He asked what I meant by almost. I said three to eleven, telling time perfectly. Gary took a candy bar from his pocket and opened it. A cocktail waitress holding a tray of drinks told Gary he wasn’t allowed to eat at the table. Gary gave her a twenty but she didn’t thank him. Gary asked if she had a problem. She said she was just doing her job and those were the house rules. Gary told her to shut her mouth, that she was breaking his concentration, that he’d eat wherever the fuck he wanted to eat. The waitress walked away. Gary leaned back and I felt the weight of his back against my hand which was one way to steady the shakes.