Vegas Moon

16.

“Donovan?” Gwen says.

“Yes?”

“Don’t pay any attention to how I act when Lucky gets here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll probably be all over him.”

“Okay.”

“But it’s an act.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a good life.”

“Is it?”

“When I’m not bored out of my skull.”

While waiting, I take a minute to wonder why pretty girls are always bored at home.

Soon she says, “Here he comes. In the cowboy hat.”

“They’re all wearing cowboy hats.”

“He’s the one looks stupid in it.”

“You don’t mean…”

“I do. That Jesus freak in the sandals? Wearing the cowboy hat?”

“That’s Lucky?”

“In the pock-marked flesh.”

He looks worse in person than he did in his photo.

Thirty minutes later the three of us are in my car, heading toward PhySpa. Lucky’s riding shotgun, Gwen’s sitting behind him.

Gwen says, “When we get to the next intersection, turn right.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Lucky says.

“I want Mr. Creed to see what he’s protecting.”

“He’s protecting us.”

“C’mon, Lucky, it’ll only take a second.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

I take the next right a half block, turn left into a paved entrance that ends twenty feet into the vacant lot.

“Put your brights on,” Gwen says.

I do. The extra wattage illuminates a large sign, thirty yards in front of us. It says, Future Home of Vegas Moon! Underneath that, in smaller script, are the words Greatest Sports Book under the Sun!

“This is the most valuable vacant lot in all of Las Vegas,” she says.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“And it’s going to be named after me.”

“Shut up, Gwen,” Lucky says.

“I’m just proud, is all.”

It’s not my business to ask what she means about the name, so I say, “Well, it’s a great piece of land.”

“That’s where I’ll be buried someday,” she says.

“Oh Jeez,” Lucky says. “Not this again.”

“I’m going to be buried there someday,” she says. “And you have to respect my dying wish. If I die before you open the sports book, I want you to bury me right smack under the sign.”

“I will,” Lucky says, “Sooner, instead of later. If you don’t shut the fuck up.”

I think it’s an odd thing for her to say. I seriously doubt the city fathers of Vegas would allow someone to be buried on commercial land a half-block off the strip.

“Can we go to Phyllis’s office now?” Lucky says.

I follow his directions to PhySpa, then do a drive-by to check the lay of the land. I make a circle, pull into the parking lot, circle the building.

“Looks clear,” I say.

Phyllis’s car has been moved, so I park in her space and sit there a minute, looking around. It’s too dark. Phyllis would want a light back here where her car is.

“Stay put,” I say, then get out of the car and look around. By the time my eyes get to her roof line I notice her security light isn’t working. I get back in the car, drive it to the business next door, and park behind their dumpster.

“I’m wearing heels, remember?” Gwen says.

“Why didn’t you stay where you parked the first time?” Lucky says.

“The security light was aimed at us.”

“So what? It was probably broken.”

“It could be on a timer. If the timer’s off by a few hours, the light could come on and attract attention.”

“Wow,” Gwen says. “You think of everything!”

“It was obvious,” Lucky says. He’s annoyed. I would be too, if I’d had a colonoscopy this morning and spent the last six hours on a plane.

Gwen picks up on it, too, and calls him sweetheart, as in, “Why are we here, sweetheart?”

“Creed and I have business here.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Come in with us, and sit tight.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Find something she hid.”

“What?”

“I can’t tell you. But it’s important.”

I park the car. As we remove our seat belts, Lucky gets a call. I make eye contact with Gwen in the mirror. She blows me a silent kiss.

Lucky, on the phone, says: “Any way we can make it tomorrow? Well, does Surrey have to be there? Oh. Right. Well…” He looks at his watch. “Fifteen minutes? The Candlewood? Okay. Yeah, I’ll get us a table. All right, we’ll see you there.”

“The Candlewood?” Gwen says, whining. “Really, Lucky? We’ll be there all night!”

“Guy’s got ten million to invest. He wants to eat at fuckin’ Denny’s, that’s where we go.”

“Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” she says. “I’m tired.”

“You believe this shit?” he says to me. “Twelve hours ago I’m in Jamaica with the Roto Rooter man adding a pipe extension up my ass, and this one’s tired.” He glances behind him. “You’re always tired! When I was your age, I wanted to do it ten times a day. But you? You’re too fuckin’ tired. Tired from what? That’s what I’d like to know.”

“I’m sorry, Lucky,” Gwen says. “I know you’ve had a bad day. Not to mention your fucking girlfriend got snuffed, and put my life in danger.”

Lucky looks at me. “You believe this shit?”

“I’m not from here,” I say. “What’s the Candlewood, a restaurant?”

“Yeah,” Lucky says. “A little off the beaten path. Good food, shitty service. But you won’t notice either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Eddie’s bringing Surrey with him.”

“Who’s that?” Gwen says.

“His wife.”

“What, is she supposed to be beautiful or something?”

He laughs. “You’ll see.”

“How do I get there?” I ask.

“Go straight, get in the left lane. I’ll tell you where to turn.”

Ten minutes later, as we pull into the parking lot, Lucky says, “Gwen? Listen to me. Whatever happens, go with it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. But don’t fuck this up for me. I’m cash poor right now.” To me, he says, “That doesn’t apply to you. I’ve got your money, no sweat. I’ll pay you in advance, when we get back to the house.”

The parking lot is only half full. I find a good spot, pull in, turn off the engine. Before we get out, Lucky puts his hand on my arm and says, “Prepare yourself.”

“For what?”

“The strangest dinner meeting you’ll ever attend.”