“Yep, Frank but this isn‘t your party. You‘ll have to find something else. Possibly elsewhere.”
“Understood. Haven‘t been to the east coast for ages. Maybe I‘ll try there.”
“And I‘ll tell Bobby not to expect you back in my old office any time soon.”
Alice let him stay in one of the guest rooms overnight. When she came home the following evening, he had vanished and left a note on the dining room table: “Gone fishing. F xxx”
MONROE TRAVELED TO work every weekday without fail. Even when his back played up, he appeared at the gates ready, willing and able. In the past, he might have sloped off to watch a baseball game or to try his hand at poker, but now he was a model, but nervous, citizen. His wife Laura noticed the difference within days and the kids enjoyed having their dad around to play with. This halcyon calm and joy persisted until June when the smile was wiped off his face one crisp morning.
He‘d backed out the drive and was about to slam on the gas when he saw a dude a little ways down the street waving at him. The guy half stood under a tree and Monroe was lucky to spot him. He coasted toward the fella and wound down his window.
“Can I help you, bud?”
“Sure can. You remember your agreement?”
“Huh?”
“The motel...”
A blank expression held for three seconds and then wide-eyed recognition of the name and his compact with the devil in a designer pants suit wearing red lipstick.
“Today you keep your word. Do what you must do at work and leave the item under the driver‘s seat.”
“Don‘t lock up tonight, right?”
“You said it, friend. Do that and we won‘t see each other again.”
“What if I can‘t get to the templates or they‘ve put on extra security?”
“Then figure it out or we‘ll meet again.”
Beat.
“Look stay calm and think on your feet. Besides, any real problems and you can leave a note in the car instead. We‘d rather wait one more day and get the item than you fuck things up for everyone. Capiche?”
IN HINDSIGHT, MONROE realized it was the easiest way to earn one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. How he sneaked out with the plates defied belief. His security pass gave him all points access and because they‘d been printing cards since Easter, everyone had grown complacent. There were no checks, no metal detectors. Nothing his imagination had conjured up on his route into work.
When he got home, he parked frontwards in the drive as usual. The only difference was that he didn‘t turn the key in the lock before coming inside. The following morning the plate was where he‘d left it but with an envelope containing a stack of bills.
He stuffed the greenbacks into his pocket and replaced the template early in his shift. They hadn‘t mentioned any payment on top of clearing the debt. Mighty stand up that Lagotti girl. The doofus used the cash as a massive beer and betting fund. The local bar had never known such trade and relations with his wife took a predictable drunken downhill slide.
Pumped with arrogance fueled by the ten grand donated by the Lagottis, Monroe shared his views on women, gambling and work to any barfly in his vicinity. This made him unpleasant but of no consequence to anyone. When his friends tired of his endless tirades, he needed more interesting stories to spice up their interest.
“Don‘t buy a Scratcher in November. I betcha there‘ll be fakes flooding the market before you can sneeze.”
That Tuesday evening sealed his fate because two days later, he was visited at work by the local law enforcement. Monroe joined them for an interview at the sheriff‘s office and discovered the pleasure of an overnight rest in one of their cells.
Despite the genuine fear for his family‘s safety, Monroe spilled his guts to the detective because the secret burned him up inside. Anyway, they‘d promised him that if he did the right thing, they wouldn‘t touch Laura and the kids. They‘d kept their word so far. Been stand up guys. And he had done what they asked - to the letter.
ALICE PICKED UP the phone, listened to the news from the other end of the line. Her face remained impassive and all Sam could do was know it was work and something serious had come up. She knew better than to stick around and popped back inside Alice‘s Malibu beach-side retreat and fixed herself another drink.
“He's been arrested for sure? Not just a person of interest?”
“Correct. From what I understand, he‘s given them a full and frank statement. During Prohibition, they‘d say he sang like a canary.”
“Have you seen the cop‘s report?”
“Not yet. Hope to do so tomorrow.”
“Are they going to indict and how much has he provided about the people in the motel meeting?”
“Yes and don‘t know at this point. My contact said the confession was full and frank but he gave no details.”
Alice sighed: she didn‘t need these kinds of problems screwing with them. Mama would not be pleased. She should deal fast because nothing gets better unless you make it so. To pretend Monroe hadn‘t squawked was plain stupid. What‘s done was done and she needed to make it right as quick as possible.
Sam wandered onto the balcony to see if Alice was finished with work and they could get back to staring at the stars and fooling around.
“Okay. Keep me informed as and when. Bye.”
She stood next to Alice and placed a palm on Alice‘s cheek.
“Are you done?”
“Not quite. One more call and I‘ll be all yours. Won‘t take long.”
Alice squeezed Sam‘s butt before patting it to encourage it to turn away and go inside. To reinforce the idea, she passed Sam her empty glass.
“Be a dear and mix me another cosmo.”
Alice blew her a kiss and she padded to the cocktail shaker, ice bucket and assorted bottles in the living room. Meantime, Alice dialed a number she knew by heart.
“I‘ve got an urgent job for you and nobody else. Monroe Linwood is breathing and helping the police with their investigation. Let me know when the cops find he‘s accidentally died in their facilities.”
“And the family.”
“Leave them be for now. They‘ve suffered enough living with the motherfucker all these years. My contact is finding out what the cops found out and he‘ll tell us whether Mrs. Linwood knows anything. If she does, she‘ll decide to hang herself with the shame and the grief. Okay, Naldo?”
Before breakfast was served, Monroe choked himself on shards of the sheeting from his bed.
ALICE SAT BOLT upright with a judder and saw Bobby’s hand in hers. The priest droned on. She recalled the cold blast of air as the bullet flew into the room. The incomprehension of the meaning of the breeze. Then the sound of the shot and the gentle splatter of liquid on her face.
All she could do was close her eyes and squeeze Bobby’s hand tight. The inner yell of pain consumed her again and she escaped from the present by thinking about the past.
12
FRANK CHOSE NOT to head to New York after the trouble he got in there last visit. He had no desire to spend time behind bars again even if it was only a few hours. So he tried to imagine where he could go to chase tail and party hard.
A lascivious grin crossed his face as he remembered a town where three quarters of the population were students: Boston. Term time the place was awash with willing ass and out of season there was still more than enough to go round - if you had green in your wallet and snow in your pocket. You could fuck anything you wanted with that potent mix about your person.
At Logan, he told himself he‘d keep his word to Alice and find a business opportunity to exploit. First, he needed to get a place to stay and free his mind from the grind of running that casino. He took a taxi to the Boston Merit Hotel and settled into a suite at the five star establishment. His bottomless pit of a credit card funded by his mom delivered the finest of room service meals before he sauntered out of the lobby that evening in search of female companionship.
; Frank considered himself to be showing high moral fiber by wanting to go to a nightclub and buy tonight‘s pussy with cocktails and cocaine. In the past he‘d have had a word with the concierge and stayed in his room. So he sat in the VIP area of a heaving club trying to pick out someone to impress.
The choice was phenomenal and Frank couldn’t decide which way to look first. The problem was going to be separating the contenders from the crowd. He left the safety of the VIPs and hit the bar. A group of five girls stood nearby and four of them he‘d happily fuck. The fifth one had hair too short, so Frank’d let her suck him off if he had to. He ordered a bottle of vintage champagne, which caught their attention due to the flurry of activity associated with delivering and opening it. As planned.
“Would you like a glass? Sharing is caring.”
The prospect of free booze could not be turned away and they eagerly agreed. Forty minutes later and they were dancing. Another quarter of an hour and they sat at his table in the VIP section. Conversation giggled, twisted and flowed until he decided it was time to find out who really wanted to party.
“Anyone fancy a little something to perk you up?”
Only Eileen was interested, who was Frank‘s favorite on account of her hot pants, round tits and hair down to her nipples, so he imagined. He ordered the others another bottle of champagne to keep them warmed up and led her away by the hand. Two Jacksons got the attendant to let them into a cubicle in the women’s bathroom.
A kiss and a squeeze, then he put his finger to his lips and Eileen watched him cut a line and snort it up his left nostril. Then he set up a second and offered it to her. She nodded and held her hair in one hand and sniffed away. Frank smiled and they kissed some more. Then he pushed her downward until she was crouching below him. She looked up at him and grinned. He undid his pants so she could reach his dick. This Ivy League beauty understood the meaning of a fair trade.
She stayed with him for twenty four hours and then he got bored with her and the two friends who tagged along. The three enjoyed his snow and he pleasured himself inside all of them. The great thing about money is that everyone wants to taste it but even Frank understood pretty ass followed his green, not him, and the fun eventually faded and died.
A WEEK LATER and student tail stopped interesting Frank. There was too much chase involved with an educated female, besides which he was noticing a burning session when he took a piss. Antibiotics and abstinence were the orders from the hotel doc and that made sense.
This created a problem: he could spend his daytime looking for business opportunities, but what about the long nights? The answer came to him as he sped across town in a taxi - Chinatown. To be precise, the handful of blocks known as the epicenter of Asian culture was not Frank‘s chief concern. It was the opium dens.
While his family had built its second fortune out of heroin, he hadn‘t considered the poppy seed as anything relevant to him, but his first foray with opiates in Morocco showed him how wrong he could be. The warmth inside was incomparable - like being blown by a thousand vestal virgins. Only better.
After a week, during which he hardly left his crib, the madam told him he had to go. His money had run out and his credit card was not accepted in this cash-only business establishment. At the hotel, he made his way up to his suite and phoned Palm Springs.
“Mama. I love you very much and I need your help.”
“What is it now dear? Money or a lawyer?”
“Mama. I‘ll pay you back this time I swear.”
“Don‘t make promises you have no intention of keeping. You are nothing if you don‘t have your word.”
Beat.
“How‘s Boston?”
“You having me followed?”
“Who do you think pays your credit card each month? Don‘t be silly.”
“It‘s a great town and I got connections who can help with our business. Only...”
“... you need more green before you are able to close the deal.”
“Speculate to accumulate, you told me.”
“Throw my words back at me. Nice. So I‘ll do the same to you. I‘ve said this before but today I mean it. If you‘re a man, you‘ll keep your promise. This is the last time you get any money from me. Just don't tell your sister.”
Beat.
“And you will pay it back or I’ll treat you like any other debtor. Capiche?”
Frank had no desire to sleep with the fishes and, perhaps for the first moment in his adult life, he told the truth.
“You have my word, Mama.”
“I‘ll wire over the cash later today. Family discount: you get twelve months to return the capital and a tithe in interest.”
FRANK‘S TIME PARTYING in Spain had not been a total waste as he’d had the smarts to take the ferry to Morocco and investigate what the country had to offer. Local hashish was supplemented with opiates from Afganhistan although sometimes it came from as far away as China.
He hadn‘t contacted the upper echelons of the trade but he knew well connected guys who‘d deliver him a couple of kilos of product should he so desire. And they were keen to supply into the US as any entrepreneur would.
This created Frank‘s chance to take Mama‘s scratch and morph it into gold. He might have been to college but deep down he was a street punk and he only took two days to assemble a motley bunch to push his wares onto the streets of Boston. While they sold bags of crystal on street corners, he looked to gain a foothold in the opium dens themselves.
During the first month, his crew sucked in several beatings as existing suppliers flexed muscles to show the new kid on the block not to fuck with them. But they hadn‘t met Frank before or knew what he was capable of. The boy had a spine of reinforced steel and he refused to back down. If some thug put one of his in hospital, he went out to find the guy and slit his throat personally. He never bothered checking whether the corpse made it to the morgue.
The second month was easier. His street team had found a groove and had elbowed itself into four blocks of turf to make a living. Wasn‘t much, but it was a good start and offered Frank his first scent of income in his life.
Frank felt positive about earning money for himself and this fed his desire for more. With a spark lit within, he found the grit to focus on securing an opium den. Like all narcotics businesses, they faced two main risks: hassle from the cops and supply drying up. Police were paid off to turn a blind eye to all but the most obvious indiscretions.
The owners of the dens usually were not the drug runners themselves. For reasons of tradition these were viewed as separate specialist tasks, but Frank didn‘t see it that way. He got himself basement rooms and decked them out ready for some johns. Via his street crew, he found a madam to run the place and some Chinese dudes to keep the peace. With payments to the Police Benevolence Fund, he was set to go.
The boy figured he didn‘t need to take over anybody else‘s shack because there was plenty of old men wanting to toke on a pipe. Why go to the effort of slamming heads together when you could start operations with no-one noticing or giving you a hard time?
By June, Frank had three locations owned and two others supplied by his crew. Cash rolled in and he paid back half what he owed to Mama as a sign of goodwill and to show her he was making good on his promise. Besides, he knew soon he‘d be asking his mother for a favor that didn‘t involve money.
13
FRANK BELIEVED IN thinking big. The money from opiates would flow freely and coagulate in his pocket. But it wasn‘t enough. The most important thing to him was to be more successful than Alice. The cash coming out of Chinatown was a good start, but nothing greater than that. She took over a casino, so he needed to set up one from the get-go to show Mama how much better he was than the girl.
From where he stood in the reception area of one of his opium dens, there was a world of possibility opening up to him but it wasn‘t going to be in Boston. Gaming on the east coast centered in Atlantic City so that would be his destination. He spent day
s treading the boardwalk in AC to find just the right establishment.
Any place whose name he recognized was of no use to him. Frank needed somewhere that attracted customers but wasn‘t too good at its job. That meant the management would be weak and ripe for a discreet takeover. He discovered his quest one block up on South Michigan Avenue where he came across a broken sign announcing the presence of the Lucky Nugget.
When he walked into the joint, he saw enough johns at the slot machines to believe the place wasn‘t too far from the main drag. Then he stood and watched roulette tables, poker and blackjack. There was craps going on at the other side of the room but Frank didn‘t have a nose for dice.
Cards interested him more because there was a skill in finessing your hand. The spin of a wheel or the flip of a numbered cube only required you to calculate the odds. An ordinary pack of playing cards held an infinite set of possibilities to be manipulated by a knowing expert.
Within thirty minutes of standing in the room Frank spotted four examples of card sharps at work. They were hemorrhaging money to cheats and their own stupidity. He looked round the ceiling to see how many cameras were operating, but either they were exceptionally well hidden or there were none. Frank suspected the latter.
He exchanged some chips - enough to get him invited to the VIP room on the second floor. A champagne bar at one end and a comfortable mix of different tables for the high rolling aficionado. Frank noted how the only women were dealers. If he ran the joint, he‘d turn this area into a lap dancing club. Men don‘t just want to gamble their lives away, he mused.
A glass of complimentary sparkling wine inside him and he killed an hour at a poker table. The dealer had fascinating long bright pink nails which took his mind off the game. Or at least they would have done so had he not spent so much time staring at her fulsome cleavage.
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