The Short Stories Of Mila Strictzer (9) "As my own sensei once wrote, you don’t want to blunt the thing but you better get out there, too." Jacob Jeffery put his pen down on the table and felt better already. His ex-girlfriend had just become a non-factor in his mind. He thought about going downstairs but then he thought he would write a poem about his break up, just to seal the deal, one that she would never see. One that, who knows, might someday get published and then he would forever have to last word. So once more, before he went downstairs to make a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich, he put pen back to paper and wrote the following poem: Scream I hope we weather this storm You and I Weather the storm Weather the storm Whipping through the hollows At night Screaming for recognition In my heart In my weary heart In my weary heart As any good storm should And your tired eyes And your tired eyes I can see in the storm Searching like the wind For harbor In my arms At night Then when it is gone The air smells sweat Comes another tomorrow I hope we weather this storm You and I "Can I call you back? Bye," Steve said, put his phone down, and turned to John. "I wish I did not have to always worry about money every day. I worry about it when I gamble, too. Its like I gamble to get back at money because money makes me worry about it during the day. I say, fuck you, I can treat you how I want, bitch, but money still gets me, even when I am gambling, because when it gets the upper hand and I loose, then money says, ha mother fucker, see what you get for treating me like shit, you have to treat me with respect no matter what, I will always win!" "That’s what women are for," John answered. "What?" "Women. God put them on Earth so that men could have something to not worry about. We should worry about women, but ever notice that we don’t? They’re trained in that, is anyone a better liar then a woman? No, because they know all they have to do is tell us to not worry about it. Just look at your mom. Was anyone better at not making you worry? I don’t care what the problem was, could be huge, did she analyze the problem with psychiatric bullshit? No, she went straight to the source like a hungry, feeding shark and said, honey, just don’t worry about it. Don’t let it occupy your brainspace, I could probably rattle off a hundred sayings of my mom and yours, too, and they all basically reference some aspect of not worrying. The problem, whatever it is, just does not matter to women." Steve and John were best of friends. They had known each other since they were kids growing up in west Texas, on separate cattle ranches not too far from each other. After they had left high school, they both went their separate ways for a while but then they wound up living in Las Vegas and working as stockbrokers. John was driving his BMW down Tropicana Avenue and Steve had his seat back. The sunroof was open and they were listening to music on the local rock station. The nighttime summer air was warm on their faces. They were going to the Luxor casino. As they drove closer to the strip, the two men could see the casino lights fill up the night sky. The Luxor was a building shaped like a pyramid with black windows and lights that flickered down the building’s edges. It also had a huge searchlight at its apex shining straight up into the night sky. "I never know who is more full of shit, me or you," Steve said. "I think you." "Fair enough." "Thank you. Did you cover your margin today?" "I had to borrow from Jennifer’s savings account, the one that wants to marry me. I ran over at lunch and pulled out ten grand and then paid half down at Dean Witter so I couldn’t go back to work the rest of the day or I’d have to pay full there. So I played golf behind the old Desert Inn, and then hit the pool at Hard Rock. When I got home, it had bounced back eighteen thousand so now I am stuck with this ten grand in my pocket from her account so I’m thinking I wanna play a little BJ and put it back tomorrow." "Nice. Are you worried about her finding out about Spectrum and this whole insider trading bullshit you’re in over your head?" "Hell yes, it’s the only reason I lead her on. Its fucking taking up my time man, I don’t want a girlfriend." "How did you find out about that stock, anyway?" "This banker, used to know him in college." "Oh. Did I tell you I have to go home this weekend? My aunt died. So I’m thinking I’ll fly tomorrow. Can you line up those broads from L.A. at the Bellagio on Friday and pick me up when I get in?" "What time?" "Six o five." "Yea, sure." "Are you going to be okay? "At Bellagio? I think so. If it’s Friday, this pit boss I know is working, so I’ll be kosher." "What are you going to do about that, man?" "I don’t fucking have a clue." "You need to figure something out fast. If you don’t clear that marker, your gonna be fucked, dude. I don’t even know how I can help you there. And I am not even really sure what happens at that point, you know, fucking with casinos and all. You watch the news." "Yea." "I mean, I’ve had to clear markers before but never more then a hundred thou, and then no more then a month, max." Steve just turned his head and looked out the window at the casinos as they drove down Las Vegas Boulevard and then pulled into the Luxor. The valet came up and gave John a ticket and they walked into the casino. Inside, they walked down the hallway to the VIP player’s room. Before they got there, they stopped at the sport’s book lounge and said hello to one of the bartenders who was on their rugby team; Sin City Irish. The bartender komped them two margaritas and they all talked for a few minutes about the next season and then John and Steve went to the gambler’s room. It was hidden from the main thoroughfare and there were not a lot of player’s tables in the room. As they walked in, a man got up from his desk that was behind the tables and came out to greet them. "Good evening, gentlemen. How are you tonight?" "Fine, thanks," Steve said, turning his head to look around the room. It was empty except for one baccarat table where four Asian men, dressed in jeans and t-shirts, were playing. "Will you be leaving in a limo, sirs?" "I think so," John answered the man. "Good, it will be waiting outside. We will watch your BMW for you until you pick it up, John. I will personally get the keys from the valet." "Thanks, man." "Don’t mention it, sir." "Is your one dealer here tonight?" John asked the man. "You mean Samantha? Yes sir, I don’t think she is working tonight but I will arrange for her to be here shortly." "Excellent. Can we just grab a couple of beers and wait?" "Please do," the man said and walked back to his desk behind the tables and got on the phone. A waitress, who had been standing not too far away listening to the whole conversation, now walked up to them. "Two Bud Lights?" She asked John. Steve had walked over to use the small bathroom on the other side of the room. "Yes, where can we sit and not be bothered?" "Over there, I think, in the back room," she said and pointed to a small lounge that had some chairs and couches. John walked to the room and sat down on a large sofa. Steve returned after a few minutes and sat down in a chair next to John. Steve looked up at the ceiling and said, "Wow, I don’t see any cameras in here." "That is impressive." "Do you remember last weekend at Casino Royal when that craps dealer, what was his name?" "Tommy." "Yea, Tommy, he kept feeding us black chips all night instead of reds and we left there with fifty grand?" "That was classic." "I don’t think I ever told you, he was worried about it the next day so he snuck up to the video room and reviewed the tape and he saw that he was sliding chips but the piece of shit casino only had black and white tape so it just looked like he was feeding change." "Wow." "Yea, wow." Then the waitress came in and handed the two men their beers and they tipped her generously. They drank their beers in peace and then the pit boss came into the room and said to John, "Samantha will be here shortly, if you would like to take the table. What will it be?" "I think we will start with blackjack," John answered and they got up and walked over to the table and took their seats with their beers in hand. After another short wait, a young, attractive, blonde woman finally walked into the VIP room and sat down to deal the single deck of cards. "Hello, John and how are you Steve?" She said. "Hi, Samantha," John said to her, looking at her face and smiling. She dealt the cards and they played for a few hours. Steve lost his ten thousand dollars and signed a check for another twenty thousand but John won about fifteen thousand. They stayed there until Steve could not take losing anymore and then they caught their limo to Dre’s, which was a local nightclub that usually picked up about two in the morning and stayed packed with people until ten in the morning or so. There were a few movie stars there, surrounded by bodyguards and lots of young women, too. John and Steve both easily managed to meet two girls and they caught the casino limo back to Steve’s apartment and his jocose. Two days later, John caught his plane and that same day Steve met two of John’s female clients from L.A. at the airport. They drove to the Bellagio and with the help of the pit boss Steve knew, they checked into an upscale hotel room, bypassing actually checking in with Steve just handing the pit boss a grand. At about five thirty, Steve left the girls at the pool and drove the ten-minute ride to the airport and picked up his friend. "Did you hook up with the girls?" "Yea, there at the pool. How did the funeral go?" "Depressing as hell. My dad made me recite this poem. Your family says hi, by the way. Did you have any problems? You know, Steve, that marker is half a mil, maybe we should move our package to somewhere else tonight." "Naw, no problem there. John, my stock fell again. I’m out three mil right now." "Don’t bet your own account."
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Copyright © 2001 Mike Strozier |