John Locke - Vegas Moon

“H’s are like undertakers,” Hampton says.

“How’s that?” I say.

“They’re the last ones to let you down.”

Gwen, bless her heart, pretends to giggle, which brings a broad smile to Hampton’s face.

“You’re so cute!” she squeals. “I can see why Lucky adores you so!”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little thing!” he says.

“Why, thank you Hampton!”

He looks at Lucky and says, “Fifty the waitress is married.”

Lucky says, “No way. You eat here all the time.”

“Then you pick the bet.”

Lucky says, “Fifty her youngest kid was born after June 30th.”

“Bullshit bet. There’s three less days in the first half of the year.”

This goes back and forth until they finally agree on a bet. Hampton calls the waitress over. She says, “Your food’s not ready yet, hon.”

Lucky says, “Think of a number between one and a hundred.”

She smiles. “You boys bettin’?”

“We might be.”

“Seventy-three,” she says.

Hampton claps his hands. “Pay up!”

Lucky frowns. “How’d you come up with that number?”

“Just entered my brain,” she says. Then winks at Hampton.

“Son of a bitch,” Lucky says, forking over the cash. “How many things does she have to remember for you?”

“’Bout a hundred.”

Gwen smiles and says, “That’s smart planning.”

Hampton gives her a long look, licks his lips and says, “I bet kissin’ you is like lickin’ sugar off a baby’s arm.”

Gwen looks gobsmacked, but recovers quickly. She winks at him and says, “I wonder if you’ll ever get the chance to find out about my kisses.”

“I’d pay good money to find out right now!” he says, grinning like Death eating a cracker.

Hampton has wretched teeth and long, stringy hair and reminds me of the pervert we used to see sniffing bicycle seats at our junior high school.

I notice Lucky’s content to sit back and let Gwen charm the mark.

“What do you do for a living, Hampton?” Gwen asks.

“I own a research company. We do product testin’.”

“That sounds fascinating! What are you working on right now?”

“You ever see those moist tissue wipes in the toilet paper aisle?”

Gwen says, “We use those! Don’t we, Lucky?”

“We do for a fact.”

“Did you test those?”

Hampton says, “Depends on the brand you’re usin’. We tested Beau Fresh. Thanks to my company, Beau Fresh can advertise ‘Thirty-eight percent cleaner than regular toilet paper.’”

Gwen says, “Someone actually tests that sort of thing?”

“It’s very scientific,” Hampton says. Then he looks around the room and lowers his voice. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret, if you promise not to tell.”

Gwen doesn’t know what to say, so she just sits there with a fake smile frozen on her face.

Hampton says, “They paid me to test a hundred samples from a hundred people over a thirty-day period. But me and four employees did all the shittin’ in one day! You got any idea how much profit that is?”

Gwen’s reeling. She needs a lifeline. Lucky throws her one.

“Hampton’s a helluva businessman, isn’t he!”

“It’s a truly remarkable story,” Gwen agrees.

Lucky and Gwen work well together. By nine a.m., Hampton’s trying to talk Lucky into giving him a hundred-thousand dollar share for eighty-eight grand.

“H is the eighth letter of the alphabet,” Hampton says. “Eighty-eight thousand would be a double H.”

Lucky’s ready for him. “If you write out a check for $88,000.00, that’s only seven digits. $100,000.00 is eight digits.”

Hampton counts it out and frowns.

“You can do it,” Gwen urges.

He looks at her. “I’ll kick in the extra twelve if you let me squeeze them titties one time.”

Gwen looks at Lucky with trepidation.

Lucky pauses a moment, then says…“Be gentle.”

The effect those two words have on Gwen is almost more than I can bear. The spark of magic I’d seen in her eyes quickly drains away, along with whatever youthful innocence she may have clung to before he uttered them. In the space of two words, Lucky Peters killed something inside his wife, something I believe was special and sacred. I hate him for doing it, and for making me watch.

Hampton writes the check and hands it to Lucky. Then starts reaching his hands toward Gwen’s boobs. She closes her eyes, bites the corner of her lower lip, trying not to cringe.

But Hampton doesn’t get titty at this time.

In fact, he’s already forgotten about Gwen’s boobs because I’ve got him by the throat. I lift him from his chair and drag him out the door and shove him into my car. He’s trying to talk, but nothing comes out until I release my grip on his windpipe. But now all that’s coming out is a raspy sound. While he’s trying to speak, I remove his wallet and read his address out loud, memorizing it. I glance in the window of the restaurant and see Lucky and Gwen trying to calm down the cashier. I watch a minute, to make sure she’s not calling the cops. Then say, “Do you have a wooden banister at home?”

“Wh-what?”

“A wooden banister. A railing.”

“Y-yes. On the st-steps.”

“Hampton, look at me.” When he does, I say, “Do yourself a favor, okay?”

He nods.

“Cooperate.”

“I w-will.”

“I know you’re going to feel a lot braver after I let you go. I won’t seem so scary an hour from now, and it’s human nature for you to want to lash out at someone. You’ll probably go to the cops.”

“N-no. N-never.”

I take a rag from the glove compartment and tie it around his head to make a blindfold.

“If you do decide to call the cops, I’ll hunt you down and nail your nuts to the banister. Wait. You probably don’t believe me.”

“I d-do.”

“No you don’t. Because people say things like that all the time, but they don’t mean them. The funny thing is, you’re going to assume I’m like everyone else. And when I leave you standing on tiptoes with your hands tied behind your back and your nuts nailed to the banister you’re going to think about how you should’ve believed me. Within minutes your knees are going to start shaking. When you try to stand flat-footed, you’ll find the only way to accomplish that is to tear your ball sack. You’ll put it off as long as possible, which in my experience is two hours, max. Eventually you’ll do what they all do.”

“Wh-what?”

I decide not to tell him. Letting him imagine the worst is more terrifying.

Lucky and Gwen come out of the restaurant. Lucky’s furious. He marches up to the driver’s window, starts banging on it, demanding me to open up. Gwen passes in front of the car, staring directly at me, mouthing the words, Thank you!

It might be wishful thinking, but I think I see the spark returning to her eyes. I give her a wink, then roll the window down an inch and say, “Back up, Lucky. I’m getting out.”

To Hampton I say, “Sit tight.”

“Can I take off my blindfold?” he whines.

“No.”

I turn the radio on so he won’t hear the quick conversation I have with Lucky and Gwen. Then I climb back in the car, turn the radio off, and say, “Lucky is very angry at me. He’s a man of his word, and Gwen’s a good sport. Against my wishes, she’s agreed to let you feel her up.”

“It’s okay. I w-was out of line.”

Lucky opens the door. Gwen is standing next to him. She reaches out and takes his right hand in hers.

“I want you to,” she coos. “Please?”

“Okay.”

Lucky lifts up his shirt, exposing the sensational pair of breasts Gwen showed me in the photo. It only takes a quick glance to confirm that Phyllis put a lot of love into his boob job. Good thing, because one glance is all I can stomach. To me, it’s just creepy. Gwen places Hampton’s hand on Lucky’s left tit. His hand jumps. He obviously wasn’t expecting to touch flesh. He touches it again, enthusiastically, and Gwen moans softly. This goes on long enough that I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Finally, Gwen removes Hampton’s hand from Lucky’s breast, leans into the car and gives Hampton a kiss on the cheek. Whispers something in his ear. I motion Lucky and Gwen to get in the back seat. They do, and I drive us to Hampton’s bank to cash the check. When we get there, Lucky and Gwen take the check inside. When they exit the bank moments later, they’re not happy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Insufficient funds.”

“How much does he have?”

“They won’t say.”

I remove his blindfold.

“How much is in your account?” I say.

“A couple hundred.”

“Dollars?” Lucky says. “You son of a bitch!”

I kick Hampton out of the car. As we drive away, he yells, “Gwen! Call me!”

A few minutes later Gwen says to Lucky, “Now you know what it’s like.”

“What?”

“To get felt up by a slime ball.”

“Actually, I kind of liked it,” Lucky says.

25.

We’re back at the house. Gwen’s in her bedroom, changing clothes. Lucky’s in his command center, with the door locked. He’s settling back into his routine. After missing several days of action, the calls from his savants are piling up. I’m on the phone with Callie, telling her about my morning. When I hear Gwen open her bedroom door, I say, “Gotta run!” and click my phone off.

“Will you take me to the Forum?”

She’s wearing cut off jeans with frayed ends that are short enough to show a sliver of pink panty, and a UNLV cotton t-shirt with rhinestone lettering. A thin, tan leather strap hangs on one shoulder and crosses her chest like a bandolier belt, and is attached to a Chanel purse that hugs her left hip. The purse is high style, but too small to be practical. She’s wearing pink eye shadow, with blue eyeliner, and frosted pink lipstick. Her hair’s in a pony tail and the whole package is put together so well, I don’t give a shit what kind of sandals she’s wearing. But they look great, too.

“The shopping center Forum?” I say.

“The same.”

“What about Lucky?”

“He won’t even know we’re gone.”

“You sure about that?”

“Trust me. He’ll stay locked in there till eight-fifteen tonight.

“Why?”

“Two reasons. First, he’s avoiding you.”

“Why?”

“He’s afraid you’re going to ask for your money.”

“And?”

“He doesn’t have it.”

I shrug. “No big deal.”

“No?”

“I don’t need the money.”

We walk out the back door, lock it behind us, and get in my car.

After settling into the passenger seat, Gwen looks at me with curiosity. “If you don’t need the money, why’d you take the job?”

“Honestly? I wanted to get to know you.”

I glance at Gwen’s face while I start the car. She looks surprised. I drive us down the driveway, wave at the gate goons, and turn right. It’s hot out, and in the distance I can see wavy heat lines coming off the asphalt.

The lots are nice in this area, with oversized houses, and massive iron gates designed to make honest people feel safe.

But they’re not safe.

Each of these homes is a cracker box to guys like me.

“Why were you interested in knowing me?” Gwen says.

“Specifically, I wanted to determine if you were the type of woman who could look me in the face and lie, even when the truth would serve you better.”

She laughs. “And what have you decided?”

“You are.”

She scrunches her nose. “Well, that’s not very flattering.”

“Do you deny it?”

She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “No. But let me say this: I only lie to level the playing field.”

“That’s well put,” I say. Then ask, “What’s the second reason?”

“For what?”

“Back at the house you said there were two reasons why Lucky would stay locked up in his command center till eight-fifteen. The first is he’s avoiding me. What’s the second reason?”

She turns away and looks out the window.

I try again: “What happens at eight-fifteen?”

“That’s when he comes out for his shower.”

“And why’s there a timetable for that?”

“Because Maddie’s coming.”

“Wait. Tonight?”

“At nine.”

“Maddie, as in threesome Maddie?”

“It’s not a threesome. Lucky doesn’t participate.”

“No?”

“He watches.”

We come to the first light just as it turns red. It turns out to be a long light, considering how little traffic there is out here.

I look at her and say, “Do you enjoy being with Maddie?”

She scrunches her nose again. “It’s not really my thing. I mean, I’m a willing participant. If I’m in the mood.”

“Really?”

“You’re giving me that old guy look again,” she says.

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t mean to.”

“What then?”

“The thing you said about being with Maddie.”

“What about it?”

“I like it. I think. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Maddie’s one of a kind. Teeny Tiny, but a sexual rock star. So when she comes over, it’s like an event. Between the X, the booze, the music, and the sheer force of Maddie’s sexuality, I can get caught up in it.”

“If you’re in the mood.”

“That’s right.”

The light finally turns green. I drive to Capstan Way, take a left, and follow it all the way to the interstate.

“And if you’re not in the mood?”

Gwen laughs. “Maddie doesn’t need me to participate. She just prefers that I do.”

“Maybe I should be there tonight, just in case.”

She giggles. “In case Maddie tries to kill us?”

“No. In case you’re in the mood.”

She smiles. “I won’t be.”

“No?”

She whispers, “Not if things go according to plan.”

I whisper back, “What’s the plan?”

She whispers, “I’ll tell you in the hotel room.”

“What hotel room?”

She laughs again. “You stopped whispering.”

“I got excited. What hotel room?”

“You didn’t really think I wanted you to take me shopping, did you?”

In truth, that’s exactly what I thought. I mean, I’ve seen her closet.

She says, “I was thinking you could drop me off at the mall entrance, park the car, and get us a room at Caesar’s.”

“And then?”

“I’d meet you there.”

“That’s what you thought?”

“Unless you’re chicken.”

26.

Gwen calls from the lobby. I give her the room number, then say, “I’ll leave the door slightly open so you can walk in without knocking.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she says.

Moments later she enters the room, turns her back to me while closing the door, and locks the dead bolt. In the movies, this is where she spins around, holding a gun on me. The audience gasps in shock! But of course this ain’t the movies, and Gwen doesn’t have a gun. Her purse is too small, remember?