Take Down

TWENTY-FOUR

He found a bar off the lobby with TVs showing mindless sporting events whose outcomes only bookies cared about, and steered Mags to a corner table where they could talk in private. She fired up another cigarette after they sat down, and he detected a slight tremble in her fingers. She was doing a good job of hiding her emotions. For all she knew, Billy was working undercover with the gaming board and could make her life miserable in so many ways.

A waitress dolled up like Marilyn Monroe took their drink order. The hotel’s celebrity theme was wearing thin and in a few months would probably get scrapped, the employees forced to wear the same tired uniforms that every casino in town made their employees wear.

“Your name is Billy, isn’t it,” she said.

“You’ve got a good memory. It’s Billy Cunningham.”

“What’s mine?”

“Maggie Flynn. Your friends call you Mags.”

“You sent that cocktail waitress over to give me the brush, didn’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I didn’t want you to get busted.”

Their drinks came. Mags stirred her club soda with a straw and watched the bubbles explode. He could almost hear the gears shifting in her head as she tried to figure out his deal.

“I always wondered what happened to you,” she said. “Did you make your old man happy and go to MIT?”

“Sure did. I split after two semesters.”

“So what do you do now? Catch hustlers for casinos? You’re sure good at it.”

She’d been caught red-handed, yet still was trying to control the conversation and get him to warm up to her. Lou Profaci had taught her that little trick, along with every other hustler who’d worked for him.

“You need to stop asking so many questions, and listen to what I have to say,” he said.

“I’m just interested. No harm in that, is there?”

She flashed a smile. She had perfect rows of teeth, bee-stung lips, and soft emerald eyes that he could have stared into all night long without getting bored. All the feelings bottled up inside him for so long bubbled to the surface and he gazed down at his drink.

“There are two things I need to tell you,” he said. “The first is, don’t ever come back to this place. These aren’t casino people running this joint. They’re drug dealers, and they’ll beat you to death with baseball bats and no one will ever see you again. Got it?”

“Shit. Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just don’t come back here. Okay?”

“Sure, Billy.”

Mags had been in the game a while and knew that self-preservation was the most important thing of all.

“You said there were two things,” she said after a moment had passed.

“I have a business proposition for you.”

“What’s that?”

“I put together a crew after I moved out here. We’ve been raking in the dough, taking down ninety grand a week. I’ve been thinking of expanding and working a few new scams. I’m going to need help.”

Her reaction was a slow one. She teetered ever so slightly in her seat.

“You’re a cheater,” she said under her breath.

“It sure took you long enough.”

“Jesus H. Christ. I thought you were an undercover cop.”

“Hardly. I’ve been scamming casinos in Vegas for ten years, and I’ve seen a lot of hustlers. I dug what I saw back in the casino. You’ve got the routine down pat. I want you to join my crew.”

At first, she didn’t know what to say.

“You can think about it, if you want to,” he said.

“It’s just… I’ve never worked with a crew before.”

“It’s different than running solo. You’ve got people covering your back all the time, so there’s less chance of getting busted. The money’s also stronger. You’ll never have to worry about making your rent or car payment again. You’ll clear three hundred grand the first year, more as we grow. We can talk about the rest of the details later, if you’re interested.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Damn straight.”

“I’m flattered. Yeah, I’m interested. I’ve never made that kind of money in my life.”

He paid for the drinks. “Give me your number, and I’ll touch base in a couple of days.”

“Do you have something to write with?”

“I’ll memorize it.”

She recited her cell number and he committed it to memory. She’d been working solo when they’d first met, and he was surprised she was still going it alone. It was a tough world to survive in by yourself.

“I need to go,” he said. “It’s been a blast seeing you again.”

“You, too. I’m looking forward to this. It’ll be fun running together.”

They stood up at the same time. Mags came around the table and gave him a kiss that made his toes tingle, then left the bar faster than someone trying to catch a train. He started to leave as well and spied a piece of paper lying on the floor beneath her chair. It hadn’t been there when they’d sat down, and he guessed it had dropped out of her purse.

He picked the scrap of paper up and was introduced to a gorgeous teenage brunette. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. The pretty girl in the photo had to be Mags’s daughter.

He slipped the photo into the billfold of his wallet. That day in Providence was forever etched in his memory, their conversation at the McD’s in her sputtering Toyota as clear as a recording. Puffing on a cigarette, she’d claimed that she was leaving Providence for the greener pastures of New York. Had she been wishing out loud, and was she stuck in Providence with a daughter to raise? It made sense, and if the photo was any indication, it had worked out okay. He didn’t want her to get home and find the photo missing, and he hurried outside.

She wasn’t in the waiting line for cabs. That left the street, and he took the handy moving sidewalk to the Strip. Leaving the property was a bad idea, but he didn’t care. Every guy had a dream girl that he fantasized about, and Maggie Flynn was his.

The Strip was the usual freak show of tourists and stumbling drunks. He walked up and down the block, bumping shoulders and taking sharp elbows, until he spotted her on the corner of Sahara, jabbering on a cell phone. Out came the photo while he worked on a clever line to say.

A black Jeep Cherokee with tinted windows lurched up to the curb, and she hopped in. He stuck his hand out with the photo just as the Cherokee pulled away. The passenger door wasn’t closed, giving him a glimpse of the driver. It was definitely a man.

The Cherokee disappeared in a sea of headlights. Mags had a partner, and that put a different spin on things. He needed to find out what the guy’s deal was and if he was cool and could be trusted. It would be a good way to start the conversation the next time they got together.

He took the moving sidewalk back to the hotel. A valet approached, holding a cordless phone. He raised the phone while gazing up at the surveillance camera over the valet stand.

“You left the property. I should have you beaten up for doing that,” Shaz said.

“Friends don’t hurt friends,” he said.

“With you, I’d make an exception. We nailed the wrong bitch coming out of the restroom.”

“I told Crunchie it wasn’t her, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Crunchie’s a fucking moron. Marcus wants to talk to you. Get your ass inside, and go to the craps pit. Ike and T-Bird are waiting for you.”

“Got it.”

He tossed the phone to the valet and headed inside. He’d been on the job a few hours, and his employers were already at each other’s throats. If he played his cards right, they just might end up killing each other.