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Wayne Senior flicked a wall switch. Cold air hissed out.
"Am I that predictable a father?"
"In some ways."
"Can you predict my next offer?"
"Sure. It's a job offer. It relates to your quasi-legal union or one of the fourteen casinos you own in violation of Nevada Gaming Commission law."
Cold air swirled. Bugs beat their wings. Bugs evacuated.
"It sounds like you've investigated me."
"I burned my file when I left the PD."
"Your file on your _fath_-"
"You used to run card cheats out of rival casinos. A guy named Boynton and a guy named Sol Durslag, who works for the Clark County Liquor Board. You've got some Nellis guy in your pocket. You're selling pilfered food and liquor to half the hotels on the Strip."
Wayne Senior stretched. "You anticipated my offer. I need someone to run shipments to the hotels."
Wayne counted fireflies. They jumped. They lit up. They fell.
"It's 'yes' to both offers. Don't let it go to your head."
o o o
The Rugburn Room:
A hipster hive. Six tables/one stage. A beatnik gestalt.
Milt Chargin employed a duo. They were Miles Davis acolytes. They played bongos and bass sax.
Milt drew a hip crowd. Femme dykes served beer. So
So
They arm-wrestled. Hipsters bet. Pete won two out of three.
MiIt went on. Milt did Le
The crowd laughed. The crowd toked maryjane. So
Wayne popped three. Wayne got a hard-on. Wayne scoped Barb sidelong. Wayne grooved on her hair.
Milt did fresh stuff. Milt did "Fucko, the Kids' Show Clown." MiIt blew up condoms. Milt tied them off. Milt tossed them high.
The crowd went nuts.
They snared the condoms. They waved cigarettes. They popped them-ka-pow!
Milt did Fidel Castro. Fidel hits a fag bar. Jack Ke
Pete howled. Barb howled. Wayne roared.
Milt did So
So
Marty wears whiteface. Marty digs being white. It's a bold apostasy. Fuck this negroid shit.
Marty calls God up. God puts J.C. on. J.C.'s a swinger. He's gigging with Judas and the Nail Drivin' Five.
Marty says to J.C., "Listen, daddy-o, I'm having a crisis of faith here, I'm doing this revisionist number. I'm starting to think the white man's got it dicked, he's got all the bread and the white women and the hi-fl shit, and if you can't beat 'em, assimilate and stop all this civil-rights shuckand-jive."
J.C. sighs. Marty waits. Marty waits a Iooooong time. Marty waits to hear his life's work affirmed.
J.C. pauses. J.C. laughs. J.C. spiels God's word on high:
NO SHIT, YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER!
The crowd cracked up. The room evaporated. So
Milt did LBJ. Milt did James Dean. Jimmy, the mumble-mouthed masochist. Jimmy, the "Human Ashtray."
Milt did Jack Ruby.
Jack's in the slam. Jack's pissed off and hungry. These _farkakte goyim_ jailers don't know from good nova lox. Jack needs some food gelt. Jack breaks out and flogs Israel bonds.
Wayne cracked up. The room incinerated. Pete and Barb roar-roarroar-roared.
They shared looks. They howled. They roared more. So
Pete took Wayne aside. Pete said, "Let's blow up some cabs."
o o o
Rapid Cab was detached. Fourteen cabs/one hut/one lot/one block between.
Pete did the grunt work. Wayne did the chemistry. They worked at Monarch. They worked _trиs_ late.
Pete pumped gas. Pete filled fourteen bottles. Wayne mixed nitrates. Wayne mixed soap flakes. They soaked dunk cords. They soaked feeder cords. They dipped model-kit glue.
Wayne felt giddy. Barb and Dexedrine did it. Barb split from the Rugburn. Barb hugged them. Barb left her scent.
They drove to Rapid. They parked. They cut through the fence. They dollied their shit in.
Fourteen cabs-'61 Fords-snout-to-snout rows. Ground clearance and tank space.
They laid down. They placed the bombs. They looped the cords. They dumped the gas. They soaked a fourteen-car fuse.
Wayne lit the match. Pete dropped it. They ran.
The cabs exploded. Scrap metal flew. The noise hurt. Bursts overlapped.
Wayne ate smoke. Wayne ate fumes. Glass blew across the sky.
(Los Angeles, 7/17/64)
Theft tools-paper/pencils/pen.
Littell worked. Littell cooked Hughes Tool books. He wrote an invoice. He carbon-copied it. He revised a pay sheet.
Jane was asleep. Jane logged early bedtimes. They devised a routine. They stuck to it. They coded their needs.
Jane needed early sleep. He needed seclusion. Jane sensed his need. Jane deferred to it.
Littell switched pens. Littell blotted ink. He hit snags sometimes. He needed Jane's help. He toughed it out then. He kept Jane out. He embezzled solo.
Littell ran figures. Littell tallied accounts. Jane was edgy tonight. Their di
She said her job bored her. She said her co-workers vexed. He threw her a curveball-the Teamsters need help.
Jane declined. Jane declined too fast. Jane laughed too slow.
He described his trip south. He abridged the text. Jane segued and riffed on De Kalb.
Miss Gersh. Miss Lane. The boy with lupus. Miss Byers mentioned said boy. Jane omitted his name from her text.
He asked questions. He _played_ her. He played off _his_ insider's text. Jane brought up Gretchen Farr. Miss Byers brought her up. Gretchen was "Satan with bangs."
Pilfered memories. Stolen reminiscence. Borrowed anecdotes.
Littell yawned. Littell worked. Littell toughed out an invoice glitch-solo.
He played the radio. He caught the news. Pundits concur-Bobby will run in New York.
Littell rubbed his eyes. Columns blurred. Numbers wiggled.
Wayne Senior sent a list-twelve Mormon thugs-all skim candidates. Littell copied Drac. Drac read the list. Drac told his Mormons to pick three "casino consultants."
Littell called Drac. Littell lied:
The men will fly Hughes planes. The men will tour "various cities." They'll meet "made men." They'll "form bonds." They'll "work to procure your hotels."
Drac loved it. Drac loved intrigue. Drac said, "_We're_ using _them_." Drac approved the Hughes charters. Wayne Senior cleared the Nellis takeoffs.
Skim clearance-the Air Force and the Mob.
Drac waxed deluded. Drac told his Mormons to sidestep Littell. Ward's _my_ boy-_he'll_ run the consultants.
Littell waxed bold. Littell ad-libbed. Littell revised his skim plan.
I'll exploit Drac's hubris. I'll write fake reports. I'll ghost-write the socalled "consultants." I'll jolly Drac-"_You're_ fucking the Mob-the Mob's not fucking you."
Moe D. waxed grateful. Moe revised the skim end. Moe said, "Take 5% off the top."
Thanks, Moe. Thanks for the tithe cash. I don't have to steal it now.
Made men feed the skim. Mormons fly it. Percentages fly. Cash multiplies. His cash. The Mormons'. Wayne Senior's.
It's a ground builder. It's a pump primer. Let's ford the moat. Let's storm Drac's hotels.