Here and Gone

by Kelly Wood

  My phone beeped in my ear letting me know the call was ended. I bet Peyton wished for an old-school house phone that she could’ve slammed down in my ear. I couldn’t blame her for her moodiness, she was either pregnant or breastfeeding for the past five years or so. Her only adult conversation was when I called needing something. I tried to tell her I was only helping her practice for having teenagers, but she didn’t buy it. She was deprived. She needed a night out with a meal that required real silverware to eat, in an adults-only establishment, with a nice, cold beer. As soon as my mom rescued Blue Hair, I’d recommend that she offer a night of babysitting.

  Grams was passed out face down on my bed, snoring. The travel and gambling excitement had worn her out. Her make-up was smeared around her eyes, and her hair had seen better days, too. Peyton and I had referred to her as Blue Hair since we were toddlers. She fell asleep one afternoon while watching us and we went to work painting her face and hair with our finger paints. Our parents had been mad, but Grandma’d just laughed it off. She didn’t even run to the bathroom to wash it all off right away. Instead, she’d grabbed a camera and started taking snapshots with us. She’d dyed her hair a variation of blue ever since. She must’ve been overjoyed to see a little piece of her rebellious spirit skip a generation into us.

  Grandma let a little air go from both ends before rolling over. Now that she was on her back, the snores increased tenfold. I had no idea how to keep her under control. She was a wily one. I’d pay Passion to do it, but Grandma would have them both at Hot to Trot trying on corsets and leathers. That really only left me with one option.

  Gray.

  He was the only one. He’d been a little reluctant but, in the end, he admitted he would enjoy spending time with Grams. It wasn’t like I could take her to the library with me and I had to finish my research before my meeting with Frank. Plus, I knew Mom wouldn’t be able to get here before the end of the day. It was a four-and-a-half-hour flight here from Chicago and a two-hour drive to O’Hare before that, plus packing and finding a ticket.

  I gave up and went to the living room to wait for Gray to return. He’d gone to his parents’ to pick up more clothing. A knock at the door interrupted my channel surfing.

  I opened the door to Gray’s smiling face. He was in his standard black T-shirt and jeans. He looked so cute I wanted to pinch his cheeks, but I settled for just a quick kiss. He let out a low whistle as he entered the suite, dropping a bag inside the door.

  “Thanks, stud.” I winked at him over my shoulder.

  “That was for this room. I didn’t pay attention last night because Uncle Frank was here. I’ll get you next time.” He winked at me and swatted my rear end before plunking down on the sofa. “Who’s paying for this?”

  I looked around the suite, taking it all in like it was the first time I was seeing it. To me, it was just a room. Yes, some were nicer than others, and this one seemed to be the nicest of all. I took it all in and really payed attention. The door opened to a huge room with separate dining and living spaces. In one corner stood a bar sporting a mini-fridge and snacks. To the left and right of the doorway were hallways leading to the two bedrooms and bathrooms. Across from the door was a wall of glass that could be opened up completely to the balcony, which had a ten-person hot tub.

  “Huh, I didn’t realize dancers made such good money here,” I said.

  “They don’t.”

  “I’m sure the hotel is giving her an employee discount then.” I plopped down on the couch and snuggled in close to him.

  “Umm hmm.” Gray lounged back with his feet on the coffee table. “Where’s Grandma?”

  “Here.”

  I startled at the sound of Gram’s voice. I thought she’d be passed out for hours yet. I let my eyes take her all in. One side of her hair was matted down and greasy while the other side stuck straight out. Her make-up was still smeared under her eyes and her hot-pink lipstick was blotchy in places. The smudges accentuated every line and crevice in her face, which for her age, weren’t many. I could only hope to age that well.

  “Why are you sitting on your tootie and not giving me a proper hello?”

  Gray stood and headed for Grams. but it was not fast enough for her. Grandma has a weakness for bad boys. He leaned down and kissed her crêpey cheek.

  “You’re my hot date for today,” Gray said.

  Grams swooned and fanned her face with her hand. She batted her lashes at Gray. “So, my granddaughter thinks I need a babysitter, does she?”

  “Just think of me as a tour guide.” Gray offered up his arm to her. She preened as he led her back to the bedroom. “Go get yourself gussied up so we can hit the road.”

  My grandmother actually giggled as she went back into the room. It sent a shiver up my spine. I covered my eyes with my hand and tried to pretend I lived a normal life.

  The front door opened with a bang and Passion came bounding in wearing her tiny workout outfit from earlier.

  “Don’t you ever wear clothes?” I asked.

  “What? This is way more than my uniform for work.” Passion bounced to the sofa and sat on me. I tried to push her off, but she wiggled into a ball and put her head on my shoulder. Little sisters, while always annoying, had a way of doing whatever they wanted without any consequences. I gave up my battle and let her stay.

  “Let’s ditch out and go to the pool,” Passion suggested.

  “The pool is destroyed,” I pointed out.

  “There are two other ones, silly.” Passion looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. She got away with murder when we were kids because of that look.

  “I can’t. I have to go to the library.”

  “Ugh, you can be so boring.” Passion swatted at me.

  “Don’t you have work today?”

  “Not today! The director gave us a one-day break before the show opens. I’ll be doing six shows a week after that. I want to do something fun.” She emphasized the word fun with a poke of her finger into my cheek. “Why don’t you ditch today, too? It’s just an interview. How much do you possibly need to know?”

  “I’ll make you a deal. Let me go to the library for an hour or two and then you can have me for the rest of the day. Deal?” I stuck my hand out to shake on it but pulled it away as she reached toward me. “Wait! One condition.”

  Passion eyed me but didn’t say anything. After a moment, she relented by raising an eyebrow.

  “You have to wear more clothes than what you have on.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I left Gray with Grandma and Passion. I sent up a little prayer for his sanity. Gray had the patience of a saint, but I feared those two together would wear him down. Even little ol’ me alone brought him to the edge of sanity sometimes. Gray planned on taking them to the buffet for a nice long brunch and then for a walk until I could get back to them. I planned on enjoying my alone time for now.

  I found Vivian behind the information desk at the library, just like last time. I still had the urge to hug her.

  “Hi, Vivian, do you remember me?” She glanced up from her desk. I didn’t know why I thought she would remember me. She probably answered thousands of questions each day from strangers.

  “Of course, dear. You were here looking at the history of Las Vegas. What can I help you with today?” She reached over and patted my hand. Joy flooded through me.

  “I was hoping you’d be here. How long have you lived in Las Vegas?”

  “Fifty years, give or take.”

  “I loved reading the books and articles, but I’d really love a personal history of Vegas. Could you or someone else here help me with that?”

  “Tell you what. Give me fifteen minutes until my shift is over and I can spare an hour or so for you.”

  “Thank you.” I headed over to the reference section again, intending to read a little more until Vivian was done. I picked a book on the seedier side of Vegas, The Mob and Las Vegas. I read the back cover. The book claimed to cover the rise and fall of mob culture in
Las Vegas proper. I flipped through and stopped on the last chapter.

  The fall of 1988 was a tough one for Las Vegas mobsters. Three families remained, all fighting for control of the city; the Bianchis, the Costas, and the Milanos. Through a series of events, the families all fell. Trials were ongoing, putting family members away, Antonio Bianchi’s son disappeared, and the Costas tucked tail and ran. The Kefauver Trials of the 1950s did not compare to the witch hunt going on in Las Vegas. The mobsters were being shipped to the big house or were shipping themselves off to other cities.

  Antonio Bianchi pulled himself out of the limelight of mafia life after the disappearance of his son, Guy. The Milanos were killed off and the Costas were never heard from again. Even during the writing of this book, I was not able to locate a sole surviving member of their family. The City of Las Vegas took the opportunity to keep the city clean of the seedier influences. The Mayor and city council members worked to keep mobsters from New York, Chicago and Los Angeles from moving in on the open territory.

  The future of Las Vegas could be seen as a bright and entertaining vacation spot for adults. Every aspect of the culture and surrounding areas was advertised to draw rock climbers, kayakers, gamblers and drinkers to the city...

  I sat the book in my lap and let my mind wander. Gray said two families remained in Vegas, even though the author thought otherwise. Clearly, the man did not do his research. How have they stayed hidden? Where did the Costas go? How did the Thomases enter the picture? The only thing I was sure of was that Frank Donato took over for the Bianchi family. But the author didn’t even put that fact together for the book. If the author got that wrong, then what else? Were the Costas still in the area? Did Gray’s family take over from them? Or, was the author right and the Costas just left? Leaving an opening for Michael Thomas to step in? I made notes in my notebook intending to look through the newspaper archives. Vivian found me a few minutes later.

  “Put that rubbish away. A six-year-old could’ve written a more accurate account.” Vivian took the chair next to me.

  “It seemed a little farfetched to me.”

  Vivian reached down and grabbed the book off my lap. She had it closed, put away, and was walking off before I could comprehend what was happening.

  “It’s not accurate?” I asked as I rose from the seat and started to follow her.

  “Some of it is, but not the important parts.”

  I followed Vivian out of the library parking lot and across to the University of Nevada campus. In Chicago, I would’ve walked the distance, but here, in Nevada, walking was frowned upon unless you were on the Strip. Gray and I had spent hours hiking here in the past to only see two or three other people on the trails, too. I found it mind-boggling. Beautiful weather for most of the year, but everyone stayed indoors in the air conditioning.

  Vivian led me to a cute outdoor café flooded with students. The students here were of varying ages, but with a majority in their twenties. I loved the feel of a college campus. The excitement and hope for the future was intoxicating.

  Vivian chose a table in the corner while I ran in for our drinks. To the locals, the seventy-degree weather was considered a cold front. Evidence of that was everywhere. Students were wearing sweaters and light jackets with jeans. To me, it was warm, perfect. I stood out in my sleeveless shirt. The milder weather sent everyone outside to enjoy it, but they were all drinking coffee. The sudden drop from one hundred degrees to eighty must have felt chilly. I chose a nice, refreshingly cold lemonade for myself.

  “So, what brought you here, Vivian?”

  “The sun. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest. We see the sun there about four times each year. It made me depressed. I wanted somewhere where the sun would shine, but the humidity was low. So, voila, Vegas it was. I never meant to stay, but the place grows on you.”

  “What was it like here then?” I asked. I leaned back in my chair, with the sun on my face and the sound of her voice lulling me into a dream-like state. I could almost picture the city back then. Not as busy, not as crowded, but still fun and exciting.

  “It was a different time. I saw you reading a bit on the mobs. Back then, they ran everything, and everyone knew who they were. The mob guys were mini celebrities. The Strip was home to most of them. You couldn’t walk down the street without bumping into someone from one of the families. I worked as a dealer then. It was rare for a woman, but I loved it. I loved the excitement and I especially loved hearing the men talk while at the tables. We were invisible to them.”

  “What hotel were you working for?”

  “The Milanos’ old place. It was torn down a few years ago to make way for some new condos going in. It was the ‘it’ place for a while.” Vivian’s eyes glazed over as she remembered that time in her life.

  “The Milanos were at the top of their game when I worked for them. Nobody was bigger or more powerful. There were two other families back then. The Bianchis and the Costas, neither held a candle to Old Man Milano.”

  “How do you know so much about all of them?”

  “Back then, everyone knew about them. The police and politicians were all in Milano’s pockets. He could do whatever he liked, whenever he liked. It was a mix of exhilaration and fear, almost terrifying to watch. Milano always got what he wanted.” The way Vivian emphasized ‘always’ made me think that she had firsthand knowledge of it.

  “The book said the Milanos were killed off,” I said.

  “They were. Murdered, really. The Costa and Bianchi families were not pleased with Milano. Milano was very old school. He would order a death and not think twice about it, while Costa was subtler.” Vivian wagged a finger at me. “That good-looking man you were with yesterday is the spitting image of his father. I knew who he was the minute I saw him.”

  “Gray?” I asked. Gray wasn’t the spitting image of his father. “You know Mr. Thomas, too?”

  Vivian watched me with a knowing look in her eye but didn’t answer the question. I felt like I was missing something but couldn’t place my finger on it. I prompted her with another question, hoping my well of information wouldn’t dry up.

  “You knew Costa, too?” I asked. I leaned forward, intent on her answer.

  “Everyone knew him. Who do you think killed Milano?”

  “What? Why would he do that?”

  “Why wouldn’t he? He was running the second-largest family. Costa was young and wanted to prove himself. What better way than killing off the Milanos? He and Milano didn’t see eye to eye on a few things. From what I understand, Costa wanted all the power, but his way. Killing Milano was just the easiest way to go about it.”

  “How? Why isn’t he in jail if this was such common knowledge?”

  “Just because it was common knowledge doesn’t mean there was evidence or witnesses. Costa was sharp. He made a plan and knew what he was doing. You need to know what you are doing.” Vivian sipped her coffee and set the cup back down. “Why does this interest you?”

  “I’m here to do an interview with Frank Donato about the remodel of the Magari for a travel magazine. What happened to Costa?”

  “He’s still around. Changed his name and his appearance some, but he’s still out there.”

  “Still involved?” I asked. I sipped my lemonade. A cool breeze ruffled my hair. I dug around in my purse for a hair tie. I quickly braided my hair and secured the end.

  “It’s not like it was then. Back then, it was a point of honor for people to know what family you belonged to. Now, it’s all hush-hush. They’ve gotten slicker.”

  “You said Costa was young. How was he in charge already? Or was that normal?”

  “Not common, at all. He was ruthless. Most of the men involved with the family only thought about what the next day would bring. They made money, and they spent money. Life was a big party. For Costa, it was a long game. His goal was always the top. He was a chameleon. He could blend in with the younger street crews and with the politicians. His personality changed based on his
surroundings.”

  “What do you mean? How do you know?”

  “When you work a table, you see and hear a lot. Most of my shift at work was spent listening. Here I was, sober, while the men around me were drinking and having fun. They talked. Men gossip just as much as us women. Remember that.” Vivian drank her coffee, pausing in her thoughts. “I’ve always loved history. The stories, the people. I’d read a book and imagine myself in other places and times. I realized early that I was living Vegas history as it unfolded, so I paid attention.” Vivian dug around in her purse, pulling out her wallet. She fanned it open across the table showing a photograph in a clear pouch.

  I leaned over and inspected the image. Vivian, beautiful and smiling, stood behind a blackjack table. Two men had their backs to the camera but their heads turned to the flash. I gasped. I touched the photo. The man staring back at me could pass for Gray’s twin brother.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “Costa and Milano. Look, I’ve said enough. You be careful. Got it?” Vivian rose from the table.

  “Wait. Tell me about the Magari. And the Bianchis.” I threw it in as an afterthought. I just didn’t want her to walk away, yet.

  “The Magari used to be a dump. Old Man Bianchi made a place for himself out of sheer grit. I’m glad to see it remodeled. But, in my opinion, it’s putting lipstick on a pig. Who knows how many people are buried in the walls there?”

  I sat back in defeat but I didn’t let go of Vivian’s arm. How was I going to finish this interview about a stupid hotel when all I really wanted to ask Frank was “how many people have you killed?” That was the easy question. The harder ones involved Gray. When Gray said his family was the mob, I pictured a cartoon version. I didn’t take into account that his father would have killed people. Or worse. And how much did Gray actually know? He left his family years ago to live separate from them because he didn’t believe in their lifestyle. I’d always assumed it was their shallowness he deplored, but now I was realizing that it may have been much more.