Liquid Smoke

TWENTY

Lakeside was a small community on the eastern outskirts of San Diego County. When I was growing up, it was one of those places that people made fun of as if it were three states away. But as the region grew, more and more folks moved out that way seeking affordable housing, and it was no longer a forgotten outpost. The Bareva Casino had only heightened the city’s profile.

Reservation casinos were all the rage in southern California. The legality of gambling seemed grayer with the construction of each new cash cow in the nether regions of the county, and no one seemed to care. Throw up a huge monstrosity of a building with some neon lights and the chance to win money and people would come.

Bareva was no different. The casino was a castle-like structure lit up even in the afternoon. The massive parking lot was jammed with tour buses, motor coaches, and cars that had come from all over. It took me ten minutes to reach the entrance from where I left the Jeep.

Carter was waiting out front. He wore extra baggy cargo shorts, a neon-green Quiksilver T-shirt, and sandals. He was holding a Slurpee the size of a small trash can.

I motioned at the Slurpee. “Get me one?”

“Nope.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Figured we wouldn’t look that tough if both of us had one.”

“Oh.”

“But if we don’t have to look tough for whatever the fuck we are doing here, then I apologize.” He stuck his tongue out and took a long lick on the straw. “And you can have mine.” He held it out.

“I guess we’ll have to look tough.”

“Vindication.” He nodded at the casino. “Are we here to try our luck?”

“Something like that,” I said.

We walked inside. It might as well have been Las Vegas, with coins hitting trays, the relentless ringing of slot machines, bright lights, no clocks, and a noise level that made it hard to think. An occasional joyful scream as someone hit what they considered a jackpot. Old couples huddled at machines, slowly extracting quarters from a plastic bucket.

“Oh, I love the Wheel of Fortune one,” Carter said, pointing at a giant machine with his Slurpee. “I wonder if they have The Price is Right one.”

“I’ll see if we can get you a roll of quarters.”

We moved through the casino to a cage in the center that had an information sign. I asked where the administrative offices were, and we were pointed to a bank of elevators.

Riding up, Carter asked, “We applying for jobs?”

“Yeah, I thought you’d look great in one of those cocktail waitress outfits.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened.

“Thank you for noticing,” Carter said.

The admin floor felt like being miles away from the casino. Plush carpeting. Tasteful artwork on the walls. No incessant bell ringing. The elevator had transported us to another world.

An attractive woman with a bun of blond hair greeted us from behind an oak reception desk. “Gentlemen, how can I help you?”

Carter whispered, “Gentlemen?” and chuckled before he went back to sucking on his straw.

“We’re looking for Ben Moffitt,” I said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Do we need one?”

She smiled patiently. “Of course. Mr. Moffitt is a very busy man.” She seemed to finally notice that we were dressed in shorts and T-shirts and one of us was enjoying a Slurpee. “Has there been a problem in the casino?”

“No, ma’am,” I said. “We were just hoping to speak with Mr. Moffitt.”

“Are you selling something?” she asked, squinting at us like that might help her figure us out.

“If you could tell him it’s in regard to San Quentin, that would be great,” I said, smiling.

She looked back and forth between us for a moment, then picked up the phone. She turned away from us as if she was looking at her computer, but I thought the move was more to keep us from hearing.

“Carolyn, I’ve got two young men out here asking to see Mr. Moffitt,” she said, apology apparent in her voice. “Regarding San Quentin?”

She looked at me, smiled, and held up a finger to indicate it would be a second. I gave her a thumbs up. Carter moved the straw up and down in the lid so that it made a horrible groaning noise. She frowned in his direction. He gave her a thumbs up, too.

Her eyes moved away again. “Alright. Certainly. Thank you, Carolyn.”

She hung up and swiveled back to us. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry. Mr. Moffitt’s schedule is full today. If you’d like to leave a card, I can have his assistant get back with you to schedule a better time.”

I pulled a card out of my pocket. “May I borrow a pen?”

She smiled, grateful that I wasn’t going to fight her on it. She passed a pen to me.

I flipped the card over and wrote “Russell Simington” on the back. I slid the card and pen to her.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d take that to him right away,” I said. “Tell him we’ll be in the casino for a while. He can find us there.”

She picked up the card. “I’d be happy to take this back, but I doubt he’ll be able to see you today. But if he should ask, where in the casino might you be?”

I turned and headed for the elevator, Carter on my heels.

“We’ll be the ones making a commotion,” I said.