“This is great, Lorelei,” Jimmy said through a full mouth.
“Thanks, Jimmy,” Lorelei answered. “I know my ziti’s one of your favorites, but I really felt like Mexican tonight.”
“Muy bueno,” Gus said, raising his fork in salute, which Lorelei answered with a sly smile. The old charmer chuckled in return.
“Whatever,” Jimmy said, digging in for more enchiladas. “It’s damn good.”
“Absolutely,” Jack said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I forget, Ben, is Mexican kosher?”
“I’m more afraid of the gas tonight than the afterlife right now,” Ben said.
Everyone laughed, including Ben. I hadn’t heard him laugh like that in a while. And he’d eaten a big helping, which was good. He and Jack shared a look of shared humor, and I felt my gut clench.
Lorelei and I sat on one side of the table, Jack and Gus in the seats across from us. Ben sat on the end between Jack and I, and Jimmy on the other end, between Gus and Lorelei.
“So, Jack,” I said, “has your son been to visit you yet?”
“No. Not for a few more weeks. During his spring break.”
“Are you getting excited?”
He studied me closely, looking, I suppose, for my ulterior motive of my subject choice. I knew about his son, but hadn’t really pressed him on details when we’d been together. “Yes,” he answered.
“You have a son?” Ben asked, then looked at me as if I’d kept that fact from him on purpose.
“Yeah, I do. His name is Casey, he’s six.”
“And you’re apart from him?” Ben asked, his voice soft.
Jack nodded. “He lives in Portland with my ex-wife and her new husband. I was there last month for a weekend. But this will be the first time I have him here. It’s been a hard year without him since I moved here.”
Ben nodded his approval. “A son is a blessing. You must treasure him.” I felt Lorelei nudge my calf under the table. Yeah, I got it.
“I do,” Jack said so softly I wasn’t sure I heard him.
Ben turned his attention to Jimmy. “Let that be a lesson to you, too, Jimmy.”
Jimmy took his face away from his plate long enough to glare at Ben.
“Jimmy has a son that he hasn’t seen in what? Forty years?”
“Something like that,” Jimmy answered with a shrug. But I’d bet this house – if I was still betting, which I wasn’t – that Jimmy knew to the day how long it’d been since he’d seen his own son.
“It’s never too late,” Ben cajoled.
The look Jimmy shot Ben made us all crack up. Watching Ben and Jack side-by-side, I noticed how similar their smiles and laughs were. How could I not have noticed that before?
Or was I now looking for anything to substantiate my theory? Making square pegs fit in round holes?
Apparently not, because Lor again kicked me under the table. I shot her a sideways glance, but she was looking at Ben and Jack.
“And you, Jack, are you close with your own father?” Ben asked.
I moved my legs to the side to protect them.
“No, not really. He and my mom split when I was seven. I didn’t see him too much after that. Birthday cards. A few days at the holidays. Not every day.” His voice grew softer at the end, probably realizing how similar his situation was to his son’s.
Ben did what I wanted to do and put his hand on Jack’s arm. “We learn from the past. We have to.”
Jack nodded. Ben took his hand away. People resumed eating. I moved my legs back to their normal spot.
“Besides,” Jack added after a minute. “He’s not my real father, anyway. I’m not sure who is. I was adopted.”
Ouch. There was definitely going to be a bruise on my shin.
“This one’s Jack’s,” I said, bringing the water glass I’d cleared from Jack’s place to Lorelei in the kitchen. She had a Ziploc baggie open and waiting, and I dropped the glass – which I held on to by the base – into it.
We heard footsteps coming down the hallway tile, and Lorelei put the baggie in a drawer. We turned as Gus entered carrying more dishes.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Lor said, rushing to him to take the dishes out of his hands.
“No problem. A beauty like you shouldn’t have to do the grunt work, especially after slaving so hard on the excellent meal.”
Lorelei smiled brightly and brought the dishes to the sink. She started running the water. Gus leaned against one of the counters watching her. Watching her amazing ass, actually. Feeling like a third wheel, I started to leave, but Gus turned to me and said, “That was nice of you, inviting Jack over. It couldn’t have been easy for you. But it was good for Ben.”
“It wasn’t me, it was Lorelei,” I admitted.
“Still,” he said, shrugging.
“It was good for Ben,” Lorelei said, looking over her shoulder at us. “He hasn’t eaten that much in a long time.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Gus said with definite hesitance in his voice.
“Ben’s eating habits?”
“Ben’s other habits.”
“I’m not following.” I looked to Lor, but she shook her head. She’d turned around from the sink and now dried her hands with a towel.
“Lately Ben’s needed some help with showering,” Gus said.
“What?” Lor and I both said. “How do you know?” I asked.
“Why didn’t he tell us?” Lor chimed in.
Gus raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “He was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? With us?”
“We’d do anything for him.”
“Of course you would,” Gus said, trying to calm us both down. I’d lifted away from the counter, and Lor had a death grip on her towel. “But there’s certain things a man does not want a young woman doing for him, even if he does think of her as a daughter. Especially if he thinks of her as a daughter.”
“Well…well…” I looked at Lor for help.
“We’ll hire him a nurse. A male nurse,” she said.
“Right. Yes.”
Gus nodded. “It might get to that point. It hasn’t yet. So far I’ve been able to help out with the things he’s needed.”
An idea struck me. “Oh, Gus, have you been staying around here longer than you would have liked just to help with Ben?”
Gus smiled indulgently at me, then turned to Lorelei and gave a slow grin, one I had to admit was still sexy even at his age. He turned and started to leave the kitchen. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I’ve been staying, Anna, to help Ben,” he ended with a low and throaty chuckle.
While the boys set up the table for cards, Lorelei shooed me into the office. She had the bagged drinking glass as well as another, smaller, seemingly empty baggie. “This is a strand of hair that I got from Jack’s jacket when I hung it up.”
“Did he see you?”
She looked insulted. “Of course not.”
She opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out an NPR tote bag. From inside she pulled out the bag of Saul’s bone slivers. She’d written Saul’s name on the outside of the bag, just as she was now writing Jack’s on the glass and hair baggies.
“What about Ben?” I asked.
She pulled out two more baggies. One contained a toothbrush. The other several strands of hair. “There are probably used tissues in his bathroom trash. Do you think we’ll need it?”
“No, this ought to do it. They’ll let me know at the lab if not, right?”
“Probably. Do you want me to take it all there?”
I sighed. Yes, I did. Badly. “No, I’ll do it. This is my hunch.”
“Oh my God, I almost peed my pants when Jack said he was adopted,” she said, which started my shin aching.
She started putting all the things into the tote bag. I wondered how many samples were brought to a DNA lab in an NPR tote bag. Probably not many.
“Jo?” she said absently as she set about her task.
“Hmm?”
“What do you think of Gus?”
“I love Gus.”
“But?” she asked as she put the now complete tote bag on my chair and pushed it in under the desk so it would be out of sight.
“He’s charming as hell, we both know that. But if you’re looking for a sugar daddy, keep looking, Lor. Gus’ wives wiped him out. And what he didn’t lose in his divorces, he’s spent on clothes.”
“I’m not looking for a sugar daddy, Jo. You’re my sugar daddy.”
I laughed. “You work damn hard for your keep, Lor.”
“Most kept women do,” she said as we left the office.
The boys had the dining room table set for cards, poker chips out, Ben shuffling a deck of cards. Just as I was about to sit down, my phone, which I’d set on the entryway table, rang. I stepped through the open archway into the foyer and grabbed it.
I was facing everyone who would call me.
Except for Raymond Joseph and he didn’t have this number. He didn’t have any number. Not anymore.
I didn’t recognize the number, but it was Vegas’ area code. “Hello?”
“Anna, it’s Vince.”
I instinctively turned my back to the group at the table. “Hi.”
My mind started whirring of thoughts of why Vince would call right now. I knew I’d have to let him know that Raymond was out of business, but I was hoping to put that off for a few days.
“Are you at home?” Vince asked.
“Yes.”
“How would you feel about going for a ride?”
I hesitated. “A ride?” Most people would be scared shitless at the prospect of taking a ride with Vince Santini. Most people probably wouldn’t come back.
“Yes. Maybe out to Red Rock or somewhere? It seems like we’re always meeting in casinos, and I thought maybe we could do something different.”
“Oh. Oh.” My brain wasn’t quite getting it. “You mean as a date?” I must have said it a little too loudly, because the chatter behind me stopped. I turned around to see all four men staring at me. Just then Lorelei entered the room and put a carafe of coffee on the sideboard. When she saw the poker chips, she said, “Oh, poker. I think I’ll sit this one out, fellas.”
The boys tried to cajole her into staying as Vince was saying in my ear, “Yes. As a date. Unless you’d like to do something else? I know it’s short notice, you probably have plans.”
Lorelei said she had stuff to do anyway and left the dining room as I told Vince, “Actually I was just about to sit down with the boys for a poker game.”
Jimmy must have heard me because he said, “Whoever that is, tell him we need a sixth.”
Ben looked at Jimmy like he was crazy then looked at Jack for his reaction, which, I hate to say it, is what I did, too.
“Oh. Well. Another time then,” Vince said as I met Jack’s eyes. He always told me I had a tell, much to my disbelief. I imagined if that were true, the trigger was going off in a big way right now.
He raised that damn one eyebrow at me which prompted me to say into the phone, my eyes on Jack, “Would you like to join us?”
There was a pause on the phone, and I wasn’t really sure what answer I was hoping to hear. “Okay,” Vince answered. “I can be there in about ten minutes.”
“Great. See you then,” I said and hung up.
Jack counted out another stack of chips, placed them at an empty chair, presumably for Vince. As I took my chair, he grabbed the deck of cards and started shuffling. He placed the shuffled deck down in front of me to cut. I wrapped them with my knuckles, signaling my okay, and he took the cards back, placing them in front of him to wait for our sixth player.
I reached for my horseshoe pendant and tapped it three times for luck. I had a feeling I’d need it to survive this night.
“Game on,” he said.
Three hours later, he was singing a different tune when Vince had most of his chips. Jack’s eyes kept straying to the bottle of bourbon on the liquor cabinet.
Can’t say as I blame him. The rush of playing cards in such a weird atmosphere had me desperately wanting to place a bet. Too late now, all of today’s games would have already been played.
Thank goodness.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” I asked Jack. He’d declined earlier, choosing to stick with coffee. As had Ben. Jimmy, Vince and I were having beers and Gus his usual Manhattan.
It seemed odd to watch Vince being relaxed, drinking a beer, his usual suit replaced with a dress shirt and slacks. He was still the best-dressed person at the table, but still several levels down for Vince.
Of course, Vince’s casual – by his standards – attire wasn’t even close to the oddest thing about the evening.
“No, thanks,” Jack said to my offer of a drink, instead rising to refill his coffee mug from the carafe which Lorelei had refilled several times, along with bringing out sopapillas at one point to cap off our Mexican feast.
She’d greeted Vince, gave me a questioning glance and wished us all luck.
Apparently, Vince hadn’t needed it.
Hand after hand Vince had raised, and Jack, with seemingly nothing, had called only to have his ass handed to him.
I knew Jack was a better player than that. Was he setting Vince up? If so, he’d better change his strategy soon because he only had enough chips for a couple more hands.
Or, was he so uncomfortable with the fact that Vince and I were dating – I think it’s safe to say that we kind of are – that he just wanted to lose his chips quickly and get the hell out of here?
But no, he’d never gone all in head to head against Vince, which he could have easily done and been out the door hours ago.
“So Vince,” Jack said, his back to the table, getting his coffee, “any information about Paulie come your way?”
Vince didn’t look up from the chips he was dragging from the center of the table to his pile then methodically stacking them. “No. Have you?”
“Nothing I’m at liberty to talk about.”
Jimmy snorted at that. He’d never been much of a fan of the police, though he seemed to have a grudging respect for Jack. Vince didn’t say a word.
“Can you tell us anything? Do you have any leads?” Ben asked what Vince probably wanted to but wouldn’t.
“We’re looking into a few things. But no, no strong leads.”
Jimmy snorted again. Because he didn’t believe Jack or because he had so little faith in the solving of Paulie’s murder, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t ask for clarification.
Jack sat back down. “Shuffle up and deal.”
There were six of us at the table, but it might as well have been just Jack and Vince the way they played for the next two hours. They stayed out of pots that the boys or I played heavily in, but never missed a chance to play against each other.
Re-raising, going over the top, any kind of aggressive play, and they dealt it to the other. It got so as soon as one of them made a bet, the rest of us would fold our cards, knowing that we’d only be in the way of their private match.
At one point, Jimmy said what I’d been thinking, although a bit more bluntly. “Why don’t the two of youse just whip ‘em out, we’ll measure ‘em, see who wins, and then we can all play some cards.”
“Shut up, Jimmy,” Ben said, although the rest of us, save for Vince and Jack, were chuckling.
“Unless Anna already knows who the winner is?”
“Shut up, Jimmy,” we all said. No one was chuckling now.
The next hand, they went at it again. Raise. Re-raise. Call. Raise again. It got to the point that although they weren’t all in, whoever lost would only be in for a hand or two more. The pot was huge, and when the river card was played even I couldn’t tell who was going to win. Usually, with betting like this, I’d have a good idea what cards players were holding, but these two weren’t playing like smart, professional players.
Jimmy was right, they were leading with their balls, not their heads.
There was no obvious help from the community cards, nothing high to make a strong pair, nothing connecting for a straight, mixes of suits so there wasn’t a possible flush in one of their hands. They probably both had pairs in their hands, or one of them was bluffing.
“I think you’re bluffing,” Vince said, mirroring my thoughts. Although, I guess if I had to choose, I would have picked Vince for the bluffer. And maybe he was.
“You might be right,” Jack answered, “but you’ll have to pay to find out.”
Vince looked carefully at Jack’s small remaining stack, and bet an amount just slightly below that total. He didn’t want to put Jack all in. He didn’t want to kill Jack in one blow. He wanted to maim him, let him bleed for a little while.
Jack counted out the bet, still keeping it in his chip area. It wasn’t a call, or a bet, until the chips left the players’ chip area. His own personal space, if you will.
He watched Vince for a long while, then pushed the chips into the pot. “Call.”
When Vince flipped over a pair of queens, all eyes turned to Jack.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and I waited to see him turn over kings or aces, but he only shrugged, then mucked his cards, pushing them, face down, into the discarded cards.
“You got me,” he said to Vince.
I thought Jimmy or Gus might leap across the table to turn over Jack’s cards. I admit, I wanted to, but that simply wasn’t done at the poker table.
When a player mucks his cards, he does it because he doesn’t want the other player to know what he had. So that we wouldn’t know if he’d been bluffing, or if he’d had a good hand but gotten beaten by a better one.
Vince didn’t look at the cards, instead keeping his eyes on Jack. “I guess I did.”
As Vince had planned, Jack bled chips for a couple more hands before it was ultimately Ben that put him, almost apologetically, out of the game for good.
After Jack had said his goodbyes to the boys, including a hug for Ben and a curt nod to Vince, I walked him to the foyer where I got his leather jacket out of the guest closet.
“Step outside for a sec?” he said.
I nodded, and grabbed a shawl off a hanger. It was the same shawl I’d worn to Paulie’s funeral. I wrapped it around me, called, “I’ll be right back. Play a hand without me,” into the dining room, and walked outside with Jack.
“Do you really not have any leads?”
“Why, so you can rush in to tell Vince anything I might say?” There was an edge to his voice. And just a tinge of petulance, I happily noticed. Jack didn’t do petulance.
I shrugged. “He wants to know who killed his friend. You can’t blame him for that.”
We got to his car, but instead of crossing to the driver’s side, he leaned up against the passenger door. “What are you doing, Johanna?”
I could have given half a dozen smartass comments, or even pretended I didn’t know that he was talking about me and Vince. But this was Jack, and beyond his dumping me – hell, even then – we’d been pretty straight with each other.
“I’m not really sure.”
“Do you know how hard this is for me?”
“You dumped me.”
“Not because I didn’t want to be together.”
I had no answer for that.
He looked at me for a bit too long. Then he rubbed his hands across his face, almost as an attempt to wipe the whole conversation away, and pushed off from the car door. He made his way around to the driver’s side, opened the door and looked at me from across the top of the car.
“Be careful,” he said, then got in the car and drove away.