Anaideia 43

I sat at the end of the foyer and pounded the tequila bottle and I waited for our inevitable visitor. It was late. Dale and Susan were fast asleep and tucked away in their bedrooms while I was alone with only my thoughts and Walther PPQ to protect me. I added the silencer to the gun so as to not wake them up.

I was nearing the point of blackout when the knob twisted. I raised the Walther and waited for the intruder. I heard heels clanking onto the marble floor and from behind the door appeared the Madam in a form fitting red gown. She stopped momentarily to stare down the barrel. “I knew you’d come,” I said as I slurred out my words.

“I’m only here to deliver a message,” she said.

“You’re dressed awfully well to just deliver a message.”

“This? I just left a Hoobastank concert. Anyway, I’m here to tell you that Randy isn’t mad at you for burning down his brothel. In fact, he wants to visit him at his villa in Tahoe.”

I took another shot of tequila. “Tahoe eh?” I said. “Now I know where to find him.”

“You and I both know that he’s a dangerous man. You’ll never get to him.”

“Yet I was the one that torched his empire in the desert.”

“He wants bygones to be bygones. You’re his only son. He wants someone to leave his legacy to.”

“He should have thought of that before making me his prisoner for two months.”

The madam nodded. “So why did you come to Reno?” she asked.

“You know why.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I would if I had bullets in this gun.”

“Well, Randy’s invitation stands. If you wish to see him, I believe you know how to contact me.”

She glanced at me one last time. “He’s waiting on you,” she said and then closed the door behind her. I took another swig of tequila. Susan appeared from behind her bedroom door in a robe and slippers. “Who was that?” she asked.

“The Madam,” I said.

“You mean to tell me that we robbed a robbed a UPS store and stranded a naked guy in the middle of the desert for nothing?”

“I wouldn’t say it was for nothing,” I said. “It got her attention. And besides, I had a pretty good time.”

Susan pulled up a chair and sat beside me then rested her hand on my shoulder. “Mind if I have a drink?” she asked. I handed her the bottle and she drank. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Randy’s in Tahoe,” I said. “I reckon we ought to stock up and ambush him.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea goddamnit. But that’s the only idea I’ve got.”

“Does she have your friend?”

“Which one?”

“Old Jim.”

“Shit. I forgot to ask.”

Susan took one last swig and sat the bottle down. “Come on,” she said, “we need to get some sleep.” She stood up and I grabbed her by the hand.

“You’re the only one who understands what I’m going through,” I said to her.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“Of course I’m drunk. I’m always drunk.”

“Go to bed and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“But you’re sleeping in my bed,” I said then gently kissed her hand.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 42

“Heroin is great!” Dale said. “My leg doesn’t feel shattered anymore. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me how incredible this drug is!”

“Why do you think I stole it from the UPS store?” I said. “I was thinking about how much pain you were in while writhing around in the backseat of that Geo Metro. I was saving you thousands in medical bills! I’m quite a good friend to you, ya know?”

Dale nodded and shoved another breakfast burrito into his face hole. “I was about to say that,” he said. “I know that I’ve dodged death one too many times the last couple of months, but I’ve had the time of my life. I’ve got you to thank for that.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” I said. “Chasing monsters in the desert and crashing expensive ass vehicles sure beats the shit out of cleaning toilets for a living, eh?”

“You’re goddamn right, pal!”

We clinked our mimosa glasses together and finished eating our breakfast in the hotel suite kitchen when Susan marched through the door. She was covered in blood and dirt and was fuming up a storm. “I took care of your Fred Durst problem!” she spat. “You two lazy mother fuckers couldn’t be bothered!”

“Woah woah woah!” I said. “Calm your ass down you grumpy old bitch! This is a positive environment!”

“I had to drive Fred out to the middle of the desert in that shitty Metro and when I let him out he tried to fight me and then I had to stab him multiple times just to get him off me!”

“You didn’t kill him did you?”

“No! He ran off bare assed into the wilderness and I didn’t feel like chasing him!”

“Oh thank Christ,” I said. “I felt kinda bad about punching him in the face.”

“You feel bad for him?!” she screamed. “I’m the one trying to tie up your loose ends!”

“I would have gotten around to it eventually!”

But before Susan could reach for her knife to stab me, there was knock on the door. So I again waltzed down the foyer to answer it and when I did there was the hotel manager outside with three large men armed with baseball bats. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” I asked innocently.

“You’ve had this suite booked for one night and you’ve stayed for three,” the manager said. “You also haven’t spent a single red cent in the casino since we graciously asked you to be our guests. So I’m asking you to leave this hotel and the state of Nevada quietly before things get ugly.”

“I see,” I said. “So if I go down into the casino and drop a quarter in the slots, will you get off my ass?”

“Get your shit and get the fuck out,” the manager reiterated.

“Allow me to confer with my colleagues,” I said. So I shut the door and walk back down the foyer to the kitchen to discuss things with Susan and Dale.

“Bad news guys,” I said. “We’re being evicted. Unless one of you has $50,000, we need to pack our shit and leave.”

“I’m not gonna take this lying down!” Dale declared. “I cheated at blackjack fair and square!”

“The hotel doesn’t see it that way,” I said.

“What are our options?” asked Susan.

I scratched my head and ass and thought. “Well, I suppose we could camp out in the Metro or get the shit kicked out of us by three guards.”

So we unanimously decided to gather our belongings and depart the hotel and as we walked through the front door and past the manager and the guards, the hotel assistant manager came running out the elevator carrying a sheet of paper with urgent news. “Stop! Stop!” he shouted. “Do not evict them! Their bill has been paid for and they’re cleared to stay another week!”

The manager grabbed the paper from his assistant’s hands and chagrined. Without sharing its contents, the manager folded the paper and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. He took a bat from one of the guards and put it to my chin. “I’ll be watching you,” he warned me.

The guards lowered their weapons and mean mugged us as they shuffled back to the elevator. I breathed a sigh of relief and went back into the room. “We dodged that bullet,” I said.

“Yup. But next time I’ll make them dodge my bullet,” said Dale holding up a Glock.

“Who could have paid that bill?” wondered Susan.

“There’s only one man who could have done us that favor,” I said. “Randy.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 41

We all piled into the Geo Metro with Dale pissing in moaning in the backseat while his leg started to fester. “I think it will need to be amputated,” he cried and cried.

“Not now Dale,” I said. “We’re on the cusp of something big here.”

Susan started the engine and we slowly rolled towards the UPS store. I placed the brown UPS hat on my head which completed my secret disguise: that of Fred Durst, the UPS driver who I left knocked out cold on my kitchen floor. His uniform I stole was slightly smaller than average and it felt like my scrotum would pop out of the bottom of the shorts at any moment.

“Don’t get too much blood on the seats,” I warned Dale.

“The pain! The PAIN!” he kept whining.

“Keep sipping on that bourbon,” I suggested. “That should keep you good and numb for awhile.”

Susan parked in front of the store and I climbed out of the front seat and grabbed the large box that Fred Durst tried to deliver before I punched his lights out. “I don’t expect any trouble,” I told Susan, “but if you see the Madam, just honk twice.”

After I shut the door, the man from the mattress store recognized me. “Hey! Weren’t you that jackass that kicked me in the dick yesterday?!” he angrily shouted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about sir,” I said. “I’m just a simple UPS driver.”

“Then where’s your UPS truck at?” he asked.

I didn’t have an answer so I again launched my foot towards his crotch and kicked him hard. While he was writing on the sidewalk, again, I calmly walked into the UPS store and went up to the employee behind the counter. “Hello,” I told the employee, “I am Fred Durst. THE Fred Durst. I tried to deliver this package to a Mr. Doug Jones this morning and he told me that it actually belongs to a Madam Joelle. If you could give me her address, I’ll happily get it delivered to her.”

The employee popped the gum in her mouth and cocked her head sideways. “Why didn’t you bring it back to the warehouse?” she asked.

“Well, you know, the warehouse is a little out of my way and too much red tape and all that bullshit. I thought it would be easier to stop in here.”

“I can’t give you her address but a Joelle Miser does have a PO Box registered with this store. You can leave the package here and I’ll make sure she gets it.”

“Joelle Miser you said?”

“Are you sure you’re Fred Durst?”

“Yes. Middle name is Robert. Look, she urgently needs this package. Just give me the goddamn address and…”

“I can’t give you the address but if I get my manager…

“No no. That’s alright….”

“PHIL!!” she shouts.

Phil steps out from behind the curtains and pokes his spectacles up to his face then pulls his pants up to his navel as he eagerly steps to the counter to help. “What seems to be the problem?” he asks.

“This guy wants to know Joelle Miser’s address,” the employee explained.

“We can’t give out customer’s addresses.”

“Yes I know,” I said. “But I’m kinda in a hurry. Can’t you help a fella out? I wear the brown just like you.”

“Well what’s in the package?” asked Phil.

“I don’t fucking know. Some shit.”

“Let’s just open it up and take a look,” he said as he grabbed a box cutter.

“Don’t be an asshole Phil. Come on…”

“It’ll only take a second.”

Phil took the box and cut it open. He took out some packing paper and bubble wrap before reaching into the cardboard and pulling out a couple of kilos of black tar heroin. “Is this why you’re in a hurry?” he asked.

“Uh, I didn’t know that was in there,” I said.

“Well…,” he pondered, “it appears that a few federal crimes were committed. Just hang tight while I contact the authorities.”

“Please don’t do that,” I said.

“No no, it’s alright,” he assured me as he picked up the phone.

But I punched him in the face and took the black tar heroin for good measure then rushed out of the store and back into the Geo. “The Madam’s name is Joelle Miser,” I shouted to Susan. “Go go go!!!”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anadeia 40

Susan ditched the Pontiac Aztec in the motel parking lot and hot wired an abandoned 1995 Geo Metro. When we climbed into the front seats, she gave me a word of advice. “Keep the windows down,” she said, “the air conditioner almost never works in these things.” The engine started right up and we were cruising down the interstate at a top speed of 25 mph. “I don’t know why people shit on these things,” Susan continued, “they get excellent gas mileage.”

We puttered all the way back to Reno and I noticed the wreckage that was Dale’s Porsche 911 was cleaned up in the eastbound lane and I heard nothing on the radio about a roadside fatality the day prior. “Maybe Dale survived the crash,” I said as we headed to his hotel suite. When we arrived, I unlocked the door to see Dale with an ice pack on his nutsack and his leg propped up and bleeding all over the white ottoman.

“Dale! You’re alive!” I exclaimed.

“You’re goddamn right I am!” he said. “After I flipped the Porsche, I climbed out from the wreckage because my right leg was shattered and I had a shard of glass stuck in my scrotum. Then I crawled across four lanes of oncoming traffic and the Porsche suddenly exploded and probably killed a few people. So 100 grand down the toilet! Meanwhile, I crawled back to Baskin Robins to look for Old Jim but he was gone. I don’t know where the fuck he wondered off to. So I came back here to drink away the excruciating pain and this is where I’ve been all day. Goddamn I hate Reno. Anyways, is that the bitch who kidnapped you?” he asked, referring to Susan.

“Yes, this is Susan,” I explained. “She kicked the shit out of me then tied me to a bed all night but it was all one big misunderstanding. You see, she’s after Randy too!”

“Oh good,” said Dale, “cuz with the condition my nuts are in, I don’t think I could fire a pistol right now.”

“That sucks dude, but what about Jim?”

Susan chimed in. “Gentlemen, we need to go back to the UPS store and stake out that PO Box,” she said.

Dale loudly groaned. “I don’t know,” he said, “I should probably go to the ER first.”

“Nevermind that!” I said. “Maybe the Madam took Old Jim! We need to find him before it’s too late!”

Dale waved me off. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

I looked to Susan. “Do you think all of us could fit into that tiny ass Metro?” I asked.

“Doubtful. Unless one of us rides in the trunk.”

“Dale, come on,” I said. “Get off your ass and crawl to the parking garage. You can ride in the trunk. But I need a disguise first.”

There was a knock on the door and I walk through foyer to answer it. When I open the door, there was a small UPS man decked out in a brown shirt and short ass shorts carrying a package. I suddenly had an idea.

“I have a package here for a Mr. Doug Jones,” the man said.

“Sorry, wrong address,” I said and then socked him hard on his stupid face. After his hat flew off his head, he dropped to his knees and was out cold. I grab him by his collar and drag him into the room.

“Great news,” I said to everyone as I drop his limp body in the kitchen, “I have my disguise.“

“What the hell James!” Susan shouted.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anadeia 39

Susan approached the bedside where my left wrist was tied to a post. She didn’t look threatening but I was still unsure of her intentions as her arms were crossed and she glared deep into my eyes.

“What do you want with Randy?” I asked her.

“What’s your relationship with him?” she retorted.

“I asked you first.”

“You’re the one tied up.”

My head was pounding. In fact, I probably needed medical attention. So I sucked up my pride and played by her rules. “Okay,” I said, “he’s my father.”

“Your father?”

“Yes. He thought I didn’t know but he’s an idiot. It’s always been obvious.”

“That’s interesting,” Susan said.

“Is it? Why are you after him?”

“Are you protecting him?”

“Protecting him?! He had me locked away in a brothel for two months! I only escaped because I shot up the place! I’m not protecting him! I’m going after him!”

Susan said nothing to this. She nervously paced around the room in deep thought while my patience was growing thin. “Now are you going to tell me why you’re onto him?” I demanded to know.

She took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. It took a moment to find her words. “My mother disappeared when I was very young,” she recalled. “It’s only been within the last six months that I learned Randy sold her into sexual slavery. I tracked him down to Norco and that’s when I began following you.”

“So we’re on the same side,” I said.

“I guess,” she said and then blew out a puff of smoke. “What are you gonna do when you catch him?”

“Kill him,” I shrugged.

“Have you ever killed somebody before?”

“Shiiiiiit,” I said. “I guess you don’t know me. Have you?”

“No.”

“Is that your aim?”

“I don’t know.”

“I word of advice,” I cautioned, “it could be a hard path to get off of once you’re on it.”

“I just want to know if my mother is still alive.”

“I’d love to help you out,” I said. “I just hope Dale survived that horrific car crash.”

Susan dabbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and gathered her things. “Look, I need to get some sleep,” she said. “We need to return to the UPS store tomorrow because that’s our only lead.”

“I agree.”

“I’ll get us more supplies in the morning.”

“Sounds good.”

“Be sure to get plenty of rest tonight.”

“Will do,” I said. “Say Susan, do you mind untying me from this bed? I need to piss and I’m reasonably certain that I have a concussion.”

But she slammed the door without saying a word.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 38

Time was a tickin. Between throwing the sign in the air and doing the splits like a goddamn madman, I kept radioing to Dale and Jim. “Do you see anything?” I asked them.

“That’s a negative good buddy,” Dale responded. I could see him munching on pistachios in an air conditioned Porsche.

Jim didn’t understand what was going on. “Who is this?” he would say.

I was growing desperate so I squinted my eyes and scanned my surroundings. There was a yellowish car sitting curiously across the street and I thought I recognized it. I radio to Dale. “Do you see that shitty yellow Pontiac Aztec?” I asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he radioed back.

“For fuck sake Dale! It’s right next to you!”

From the corner of my eye, I could see him turn his head left. “Oh yeah, that thing,” he said. “It’s been sitting there for awhile.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“It didn’t look suspicious to me,” he shrugged.

I put down the sign and leave my post in front of the mattress store. I sneak up on the Aztec and noticed a woman sitting in the driver’s seat with sunglasses and reading a newspaper. “Susan fuckin Brucetti!” I uttered.

I pulled out the Colt Python from inside my track pants and climbed into the passenger’s seat. This sudden movement startled her and she jumped and dropped the newspaper.

“JAMES!” she exclaimed.

“Busted!” I said.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I should ask you the same question!”

With the engine running, she shifted the car into drive and slammed on the gas. I flew back in my seat and dropped the Python onto the floorboard. When I tried to reach for it she swerved the vehicle and tossed me to and fro. “You can’t have my organs!” I shouted to her as I attempted to wrestle the steering wheel from her hands. But she grabbed the back of my head and slammed it against the dashboard which caused my fake dreads to fall off. While in a daze, I turned around to see Dale in a hot pursuit.

“You can’t outrun us,” I said to her half concussed.

She weaved in and out of traffic causing other motorists to brake or crash into one another. I fought through my impending CTE and grabbed the wheel but she karate chopped my throat and I feared she broke my larynx. Dale was still in pursuit.

“James, can you hear me?!” he radioed through.

Blood spewed from my mouth as I tried to respond. “I’m being abducted!” I gurgled.

Susan grabbed the walkie talkie from my hands and threw it out the window and then she swerved onto the interstate on-ramp. Dale was on her tail and attempted a t-bone. This worked and the Aztec spun wildly out of control and out of the way of Dale’s Porsche. But Dale, now moving at a tremendous speed, hit a guardrail and launched his car several feet in the air before landing upside down in the middle of the interstate. Susan regained control of the vehicle was headed 90 miles per hour eastbound outside of Reno.

“You killed Dale!” I shouted while holding my neck.

“Where have you been for months?! And why are you now in Reno?!”

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” I said and I reached for her neck. But she did another jujitsu move and knocked me out cold.

When I awoke, I was tied to a bed with my arms and legs splayed out. I was inside yet another motel in the middle of the desert and my head hurt and could feel my brain bleeding on the inside. I tried lifting my head and shouted for Susan. “If you’re gonna kill me then let’s get this over with!” I said.

I could hear her fumbling inside the bathroom and I presumed that she was preparing the bathtub to harvest my organs. It was agony to lay there while I awaited my death. But moments later, she opened the door and gave me a long hard look. “What were you doing outside of that UPS store?” she asked me.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said.

“Were you following me?”

“Following you? Hell! I forgot you existed!”

“Were you going after Madam Joelle?”

I paused. “What’s it to you?” I ask.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m a dead man regardless. I saw you stalking me in Los Angeles. There’s only one reason why someone would stalk me: they want my organs.”

She was genuinely perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

“Why do you think I disappeared for so long eh? I knew you were onto me!”

Susan chuckled and rubbed her forehead. “No. No, James, I was following you because you were connected to Randy.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anadeia 37

The plan was set into motion. Joelle’s PO Box was located inside a UPS store near a Baskin Robins and mattress store in some sleepy suburb of Reno. Dale concealed himself with a fake mustache and sideburns along with a pair of brown shaded aviators; a classic look. With the killing he made at the blackjack tables, he bought a blue Porsche 911 because it was named after his favorite holiday.

“I bought this Porsche so that I will never forget,” Dale said.

“Forget what?” I ask.

“9/11”

Old Jim came around and decided he’d like to participate in the stakeout as well. He shaved off his beard and dyed his hair jet black and it was then I suspected he was much younger than he appeared. “What year did your brother die?” I asked him.

“Nineteen hundred and twelve.”

“Goddamn Jim! How old are you ?!”

“I don’t think I’m that old.”

Dale was to park the brand new Porsche in front of the UPS store and lookout for suspicious passersby. Jim was to observe the whole operation from inside the Baskin Robbins. Meanwhile, I was disguised in fake dreadlocks and tattoos and a Liverpool FC jersey in front of the mattress store while carrying a sign advertising a reduced sale on mattresses. I was going over the plan while Jim ordered some ice cream.

“Vanilla please,” he requested from the server.

“Jim, we have all these flavors and you decide on vanilla?” I asked.

“I’m just a plain ol country boy,” he explained. “When I was a kid growing up in the bayous of Loosieana, an old Cajun man would give us some of his homemade vanilla ice cream. The kids would ask how he made this ice cream and he’d ask us ‘have you ever milked a bull before?’ and then he’d take us into the swamps and drop his pants…”

I cut him off. “I’m sure this is a fascinating story,” I said, “but we must get to work. Do you have your walkie talkie?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

He holds up the walkie talkie. “Just press this button right here?” he said.

“Correct. I’ll be across the street. If you think you see Joelle, just radio through. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

I exit the Baskin Robins carrying the large red sign and proceed to my position in front of the mattress store. As I cross the street, I’m nearly hit by oncoming traffic and a man rolls down his car window and yells at me.

“Cut off them dreads you honky ass mother fucker!” he yells.

“I’ll have you know, sir, that I’m half Pakistani!” I say.

The man speeds off and I finish crossing the road. I look to Dale parked in front of the UPS store and he nods.

The show was on.

I spin the sign with furious passion in front of my body and behind my back. I was a dancing fool. After a few minutes, cars began piling into the mattress store parking lot with customers searching for a great deal. The manager stepped outside and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Excuse me sir,” he said, “but I didn’t hire you and I’m definitely NOT selling mattresses for a $1.99.”

“This is official police business,” I lie. “Now kindly fuck off.”

“Police business?” he asks. “Can I see a warrant?”

“Yeah I have a warrant right here,” I say and I lift my foot and sock him right in the ballsack. While he was writhing on the ground, I give him a final warning. “There’s my warrant,” I say. “And if you have a complaint, you can take it up with the Washoe County Sheriff’s Department. Have a nice day.”

Figuring the Sheriff’s Department would show up at any moment, we didn’t have much time.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 36

I hitchhiked towards I-80 where Old Jim was holed up in a Motel 6. A cabbie picked me up and I climbed into the front seat where the driver tore me a new one. “Are you some sort of dumbass?” he shouted. “Don’t you know how dangerous hitchhiking is? I should beat the hell out you for being a moron!”

“Look brother,” I retorted, “I’ve been hitchhiking all my life and I’ve only been stabbed twice. Furthermore, I am armed with a Colt Python and a crisp $20 bill. So would you like the 20 bucks or a wadcutter to the belly?”

The cabbie shut his trap and put the vehicle in drive and we journeyed towards the interstate in cordial silence. When I arrived, I climbed out the passenger door while the petrified driver was itching to say something. When he did, he asked if he could have the $20.

“I see that the fare came to $19.98,” I said. “Do you have two pennies?”

The cabbie swallowed hard before reaching into his wallet to dig for two golden pieces of useless copper. He found plenty of quarters, dimes, nickels, and Iraqi dinars but only one penny. He held the lone coin silently while sensing his doom.

“I’ll tell you what bucko,” said I, “how about I shut this door and you go about your merry way?”

I took the cabbie’s non-response as an agreement so I closed the door and the cab slowly rolled out of the parking lot. It was another successful hitchhike.

Inside the motel room, I found Jim siting alone in his longjohns with a spit cup and playing solitaire. He left the air conditioning off which under the Nevada heat made the room unbearable. I sat the plastic bag of goods I bought on the dresser; some Rogaine, razors and shaving cream.

“How have you been holding up Jim?” I ask him.

Jim picks up his styrofoam spit cup and spits out a wad of long cut tobacco. “About as well as you could expect,” he said. “Where have you boys been?”

“Dale’s been killing it on the tables. I don’t know why but luck has blessed us here. We stayed in a suite last night.”

“A suite? Well Ain’t that somthin’” he said, spittin another wad.

“Look, I’m gonna need you to shave and dye your hair. We’re going undercover.”

“Shave? Dye?”

“Yes. That’s what all this shit here is for.”

His dead grey eyes hinted at a lack of comprehension. Perhaps being left alone in motel room for days on end resurrected his dementia so I folded on my demand. “You know what, nevermind,” I said. “Is there anything you can tell me about Joelle? Something we’ve never discussed?”

“Joelle?” he asked.

“Yes. The Madam.”

“Oh she’s a darlin’. How’s she doin these days?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet.”

“What’s she been up to?”

“Apparently pimping out whores again.”

Jim chuckled. “That madam, she’s a character.”

“What’s her relationship with Randy like?”

“Randy?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled under my breath. “Anyway, I’m gonna go see her soon”.

“What fur?”

I paused and thought. “I guess the day of judgement comes for all of us,” I said.

“Mmm,” said Jim, spitting again. “You know, I’ve been thinking about my own judgment. I suppose I should be thanking the lord for blessing me with a long life. I’ve watched so many of my friends die. They were good men. And they were evil men too. I think about them a lot. I suppose that’s all I do nowadays. But then I think, maybe there is no god. Why must my brother die of cholera at six years old while I, a man who slayed another for a pack of cigarettes, gets to live a long life? Then I think maybe my brother is the blessed one and that hell lies not below our feet but lasts as long as we breathe. Funny things a man thinks in his old age.”

That night, I made Old Jim stay with us in the suite.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 35

The next morning, I watched the prostitute climb out of bed and put on her black brazier and panties and I laid in bed naked as she lowered her shirt and grabbed her belongings. “Can I know your name?” I ask her.

“No,” she said.

“Well, what if I want to get in touch with your services again?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a white business card. “Just call this number,” she told me.

Without looking at it, I placed it on the nightstand and crawled out of bed to put on my underwear. “So what do I owe you?” I ask.

“$15,000,” she said.

“Jesus Christ!” I shouted out loud. Strangely, that was the exact amount that the Dr. Phil slot machine spat out the night before. So I handed her $15,000 all in 20 dollar bills and she was on her way.

“Can I at least get you a drink?” I ask her on the way out.

“Fuck no.”

And she closed the door behind her.

Meanwhile, Dale came cackling out of his bedroom door with two other sex workers. I stood in the foyer in only my underwear while that gaggle proceeded to the kitchen while grabbing each other’s asses and I scratched my ass and followed them in there. “Dale, it seems like you had a pretty good night,” I said.

“You’re damn right I did!” he said while pouring champagne into everyone’s glass. “Didn’t you?”

“Yeah well, ya know. I think I had the whiskey dick. $15,000 down the toilet.”

“Ah man, that sucks. Well anyway, this is Danica and Delilah,” Dale said, referring to the two women as they both gave me a flirty wave. “Ladies, I have enjoyed your company but it’s time to bid you adieu.”

The ladies sighed and Dale shoved numerous $50 bills into their bras and sent them on their way. He put on his silk robe and joined me in gaudy living room where the bright Reno skyline shown through the window. He poured himself more champagne then sat down on the couch where he briefly flashed his nutsack before crossing his legs. “All we have to do is maintain this level of luck and we’ll have Randy’s attention in no time! Easy as pie,” he said.

“Yeah,” I shrugged.

“Don’t feel so down,” he told me. “You’ll have your revenge. Maybe we need to call some more hookers tonight to cheer you up! Just don’t drink so much today.”

“Yeah. Yeah!” I tried to convince myself. “More hookers! That’s the ticket!”

I go to the bedroom to retrieve the business card. Before I could hand it to Dale, I catch a glimpse of a name: “For a good time, contact Joelle” it said on the card.

“Fuck,” I uttered.

“What?” asked Dale with his hand out waiting to receive the card.

“Does a name on here ring a bell?”

Dale took the card and tried to make sense of it. “No?” he said.

“Joelle was the name of the madam at the Candyland brothel!”

“And?”

“And? Are you stupid? This might be the same Joelle!”

“Does it have an address on it?”

“Only a PO Box.”

“Should we stake it out?”

“We’ve got to!”

Dale finished his champagne and scratched his nipple. Then a look of consternation fell over his face. “What do we do if we catch her?” he asks.

I hadn’t thought of that so I rubbed my chin and considered our options. “Well, I guess we corner her and question her,” I said.

“I dunno,” Dale said. “I say we tail her and follow her around a bit. We gotta know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

I agreed. “Then we need to find disguises,” I suggested. “We should have done that anyway before we came into town.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dale said. “I’ll go put some pants on.”

“You do that,” I said. “I’m gonna go check on Old Jim.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 34

In these dying days I sat staring at the loud floral carpet on the casino floor which concealed ages of cigarette stains and dried up vomit while the jolly jingles of slot machines and video poker provided a hallowed sense of revelry. Reno was a dime store conception of a good time. I thought my return to civilization after months in the wilderness and endless days in a desolate brothel would restore my joviality and lust for life. Instead it brought forth blitheness and disdain.

Perhaps it was the hidden presence of Randy who remained as a shadow in the streets which ceaselessly haunted me. Somehow I felt that he knew we were here. I wondered what I could say to the man who was the architect of my nightmare.

I dropped a quarter into the slot. The wheels on the “Dr. Phil” machine spun and landed on three mustaches in a row. An endless amount of silver coins spat out into the troth and the voice of Dr. Phil announced in his Texas draw “Congratulations! You won a lot of money! But you’re playing a slot machine in Reno, Nevada. It’s time to make a change in your life!”

Maybe this was a good omen, I told myself. I collect the coins and stop a barmaid. “Excuse me miss,” I say, “I’d like a rum and coke, a tequila, and a Bloody Mary please.” Then I drop a wad of 50s on her tray.

“Your drinks are already paid for sir,” she said.

“By whom?” I ask.

“By that gentleman over there.”

She points to Dale, decked out in a Tom Ford suit and stogie in his mouth, at the blackjack table. I should have known, I thought. The barmaid brought me the drinks and I immediately swallow the tequila and rum and coke and then I stumbled over to the table and take a seat next to Dale.

The croupier drops two kings in front of Dale and he laughs while cigar ash drops on his lap. “Hit me!” he says.

“Dale, you’re fucking insane,” I tell him.

“Yeah but look at all these chips!” he says. Indeed he had thousands of dollars worth of chips stacked on the table.

“But you pushed them all in you idiot!”

The dealer tossed him another card and he flipped it over. To my astonishment it was an ace. “Goddamn I’m unstoppable!” Dale declared. He doubled his earnings and hauled all his chips towards him. “Daddy’s eatin’ good tonight!” he cheers.

We cash out then waltz on over to the casino buffet. I get a bowl of ice cream and Dale slops heaps of mashed potatoes, chicken, and green beans onto multiple plates. We take a seat near the slots and Dale digs in. “You were fucking careless on that last hand!” I tell him.

Dale looks up from his plate. “What? You think I’m stupid?” he asks.

“Frankly, yes.”

He picks up his fork and points up to the ceiling. “Look up there,” he says. I look up and see hundreds if not thousands of cameras pointing down. “See those cameras?” he continues. “They see everything we do. I don’t know how much money I won tonight but it’s damn sure more than what I walked in here with. And the house knows that. At this very second, this establishment is losing money on me and they can’t permit that. Perhaps word will spread about me. Every casino will be looking out for us, which might, god willing, get the attention of Randy. Since we can’t go to Randy, we’ll make Randy come to us. Right now, I suspect management is trying to figure out a way to keep my money in the casino. So in a few minutes, they’ll probably approach us with their finest suite.”

I scratched my head. “So you think that’ll get the attention of Randy?”

“Of course!” he said while shoveling another heap of green beans in his mouth. “If there’s one thing I know is that all these gangster types are in with the casinos.”

“But what if we start losing money?”

“Well, we just have to make sure we never lose to the house,” he shrugged.

I raised one eyebrow.

But minutes later, Dale’s calculations were proven correct. A gaunt fellow with slick backed hair and a bright blue blazer approached our table with a smile and a handshake. “Congratulations gentleman,” he told us, “you two have had a remarkable night at our casino. As a compliment, we would like to welcome you to our hotel as esteemed guests. Our finest suite awaits you with champagne and all the usual refinements.”

Dale looked at me with a victorious expression and we got up from our table and followed the man into the hotel lobby where a porter escorted us to our top floor suite. The porter unlocked the door and we were greeted with all the garishness and extravagance that Reno had to offer. Dale was in awe as he looked around the room and then he looked at me with arms wide open. “What did I tell you? What did I tell you?!” he beamed.

“Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?” the porter asked.

“Yes. Two whores please,” said Dale.

I looked at the porter wondering if such a request could be granted. Then the porter looked at me. “And for you sir?” he asks.

“Uh, I too would like two whores,” I responded.

The porter nodded. “Four whores coming right up,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…