The place was called Club Diamond, a fancy name for what was pretty much a joint. It spoke to how low I’d sunk a few years back that I’d been a regular there.
“Don’t get out,” Jerry said, grabbing my arm.
“Why not?”
“It’s early,” he said. “Chances are they ain’t here yet. Let’s sit out here and see if we can spot ’em.”
“What if they are already inside?”
“Then we’ll catch ’em comin’ out. Look, they know you. If they see you inside they’re either gonna run, or try ta kill you.”
“You have a point.”
“And if they try ta kill you,” he went on, “I’m gonna have to waste their asses.”
“Christ, I don’t want you to do that!”
“I know,” he said, “but it’d be their choice, not mine.”
“So what do we do when they show up?”
“Watch,” he said, “wait, and then follow ’em. With a little luck they’ll take us home with ’em.”
“I really meant it when I said I didn’t want to kill them, Jerry.”
“I know it,” he said. “We’re just gonna ask them some questions, that’s all.”
I stared at his profile, noticed that his hands had tightened on the steering wheel. He noticed it, too, because suddenly he looked at them and let up on the wheel so that the color seeped back into his knuckles.
“This is a nice car,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“Big enough for me.”
“What kind of car do you have at home?”
“I ain’t got a car,” he said. “I live in Manhattan. Don’t need one.”
“You must sometimes.”
“Oh sure, somebody gives me one when I need it,” he explained, “or I rent one.” He slid his hands around the wheel, this time lovingly. “Gonna rent one of these next time.”
“Jerry,” I asked. “What do you do in New York?”
“This and that,” he said. “Collections. A lot of collections.”
“For loan sharks?”
“Sure, loan sharks. I do pick ups, too. You know, for the boys? Sometimes I gotta get tough, ya know? Break an arm or a leg.”
“You like that kind of work?”
“Don’t nobody like that kind of work, Mr. G,” he said. “It’s a job.”
We sat quietly for a while, watching the front door of the club. Men came and went, sometimes a man went in with a woman. There were windows with beer signs in them, and above the door the name of the club in blue neon. Vegas was a town of neon, of lights, and it was somebody’s job to make sure all the bulbs were on all the time. I sometimes envied whoever had that job. It was so clear what they had to do, with no hidden agendas.
“You ain’t thinkin’ I’m a hitter, are ya?” Jerry asked, breaking into my reverie.
“What?”
“I ain’t no hit man, Mr. G,” he said, indignantly.
“I never thought you were, Jerry.”
“I’ve killed people,” he went on, “but never for money, and only when they had it comin’.”
“And who decided they had it coming?”
“Not me,” he said. “I don’t make that decision. Because somebody I trust tells me.”
I nodded and stared out the window.
“But I ain’t no hitter,” he said, after a moment.
“I know.”
Then he nodded, apparently satisfied that he’d made his point. I didn’t see the subtle difference between what he said he did and what he said he didn’t do, but that was okay. It worked for him, and that was all that mattered.
“There they are,” I said, about half an hour later.
I reached for the door handle and he stopped me again.
“Let them go inside.”
We watched as the two men who had broken into my place, beaten me up, kicked and threatened me went into the club.
“Let’s go!” I said, too anxious to sit still.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I’ll go in. Like I said, they know you.”
“You think you can go unnoticed in there?” I asked. “You’re a big guy, Jerry.”
“With all kinds of tits and ass hangin’ out, yeah, I think I can pretty much go unnoticed, but there’s one guy I do want to notice me.”
“The bartender?”
He nodded.
“I just wanna make sure he keeps his mouth shut.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Just seein’ me’ll do that.” He smiled for the first time since I’d met him. “Like you said, I’m a big guy.”
Thirty-three
Later, Jerry told me what happened when he went inside ….
He might have thought he could go unnoticed, but that would only be by men. The place was busier than it had been the first time we were there, and there were girls working the floor. A big, healthy-but-tired-looking brunette in a filmy negligee spotted him as soon as he went in and sidled up to him. From the way she moved and looked she was more than a little tipsy.
“Jesus,” she said, licking her lips, “you’re a big one, aren’t you?”
Jerry had heard that a million times before, and since his preference in woman ran to smaller ones he was going to brush her off, but then he thought that would bring him some unwanted attention.
“You’re kinda big yerself,” he said.
“Double-Ds baby,” she said. She pulled down the top of her negligee so that those babies popped out in all their glory. But even the smooth skin and large brown nipples couldn’t distract Jerry from what he was there to do. “Listen, we got a room in the back-”
“What’s your name, sweetie?” he asked her.
“Catalina.”
He knew it wasn’t her real name, but that didn’t matter.
“They call you Cat?”
“Sometimes.” She tucked her tits back in. “You can call me whatever you want.”
“Listen, Cat,” he said, “I really need a drink. I was thinkin’ of goin’ to the bar. How about you and me get together a little later?”
To soften the blow he tucked a ten dollar bill into the soft, smooth valley between her breasts.
“You’re on, handsome,” she said. “Don’t forget about me, though. You’ll never know what you missed.”
“I won’t forget,” he lied. “I promise.”
I learned that when Jerry was working he had a one-track mind. He just couldn’t help it. As soon as he walked away from Catalina and headed for the bar he did just what she asked him not to. He forgot all about her.
But the bartender had not forgotten about him. As he approached the bar the man looked at him and started, as if he thought Jerry might reach across the bar for him. In fact, he backed up a step.
“Where’s your partner?”
“Don’t matter,” Jerry said. “I’m the one you gotta answer to.”
“Hey,” the man said, “they just came in the door. I ain’t said a word to them.”
Jerry turned his head and saw the two men sitting at a table, deep in conversation. He knew what they were as soon as he saw him. Two-bitters. They wouldn’t last a day in New York.
“They’re waitin’ for Iris to come out.”
“And when does she do that?”
“’Bout ten minutes. It’ll be her last set.”
“And then what?”
The man shrugged.
“Then they leave together.”
“And go where?”
“Beats me. Her place, their place?”
“Those two live together?”
The bartender snorted.
“Those two do just about everything together-and maybe more, if you know what I mean.”
Jerry preferred not to think about what the bartender was talking about.
“Okay,” he said. “Keep your nose clean and you won’t ever have ta see me again.”
“That suits me fine.”
Jerry gave him one last look for good measure, then turned and started for the door. Ravisi and Davis had suspended their conversation and were looking at the skinny girl who was finishing up on stage. The big man might have made it out of the place without being seen by them, but at that moment Catalina spotted him heading for the door. She took offense and wasn’t shy about letting everybody in the place know it.
“Hey! Big fella! What’re ya doin’?” she shouted. “You ain’t leavin’, are ya? Hey, I’m talkin’ to you. I showed you my tits. Nobody leaves after I show ’em my tits.”