Pete yawned. Pete stroked the cat. Wayne walked in distracted. Dom checked his basket. Dom eyeball-stroked his bulge.

Pete said, "I've been calling you."

Wayne shrugged. Wayne passed Pete a note. A news clip--two columns. A call came in. Milt plugged it. Pete steered Wayne outside.

Wayne looked frazzled. Pete sized him up. Pete stuck the clip in his pocket.

"Sol Durslag. Ring a bell?"

"Sure. He's a card cheat. He's the treasurer for the Liquor Board, and he used to work for my father."

"Did they fall out?"

"Everybody falls out with--"

"Your father owns the Land o' Gold, right? He's got covert points."

"Right. The Gold and thirteen more."

Pete lit a cigarette. "Milt's been digging up shit. He heard that Durslag's been running card counters out of the Gold. I might need his help down the line."

Wayne smiled. "My father used to run him."

"That's what Milt said."

"So you . . ."

"I want you to muscle him. Think about it. You're Wayne Senior's son, and you've got your own reputation."

Wayne said, "Is this a test?"

Pete said, "Yes."

Durslag lived on Torrey. Durslag lived middle-class. Durslag lived in the Sherlock Homes tract.

Said tract was a style clash. Mock Tudors and palm trees. Mock gables and sand lots. Mixed-message mishegoss.

It was dark. The house was dark. Clouds draped the moon.

Pete knocked. Pete got no answer. The garage door was up. They lounged inside.

Pete smoked. Pete got a headache. Pete popped aspirin. Wayne yawned. Wayne shadowboxed. Wayne fucked with a gooseneck lamp.

Milt dished on Sol. Milt said Sol was divorced. Good news--no women.

The wait dragged. 1:00 a.m. went south. They loitered. They stretched kinks out. They pissed the walls green.

There-- Headlights/the driveway/incoming beams.

Pete crouched. Wayne crouched. A Caddy pulled in. The beams dimmed. Sol got out. Sol sniffed-- What's that smoke sm-- He ran. Pete tripped him. Wayne threw him up on the hood. Pete grabbed the lamp. Pete whipped the neck down. Pete flashed light on Wayne.

"That's Mr. Tedrow. You used to work for his father."

Sol said, "Fuck you."

Pete flashed him. Sol blinked. Sol rolled off the hood. Wayne grabbed him. Wayne pinned him. Wayne pulled his sap out.

Pete flashed him. Wayne sapped him--tight shots--the ankles/the arms. Sol shut his eyes. Sol bit his lips. Sol squeezed up fists.

Wayne said, "Pull your crew out of the Land o' Gold."

Sol said, "Fuck you."

Wayne sapped him--tight shots--the ankles/the chest.

Sol said, "Fuck you."

Pete said, "Say yes twice. That's all we want."

Sol said, "Fuck you."

Wayne sapped him--tight shots--the ankles/the arms.

Sol said, "Fuck you."

Wayne sapped him. Pete flashed him. The bulb was bright. The bulb was hot. The bulb burned his face.

Wayne raised his sap. Wayne swung it. Pete stopped him short.

"One yes to me, one to Mr. Tedrow. Pull your crew. Do my people some liquor-board favors."

Sol said, "Fuck you."

Pete cued Wayne. Wayne sapped him--tight shots--the arms/the ribs. Sol balled up. Sol rolled. Sol clipped the hood ornament. Sol snapped a wiper blade.

Sol coughed. Sol choked. Sol said, "Fuck you, yes, okay."

Pete pulled the lamp up. The light bounced and fizzed.

"That's two 'yes's,' right?"

Sol opened his eyes. Sol had singed brows. Sol had scorched lids.

"Yeah, two. You think I want this as a steady diet?"

Pete pulled his flask--Old Crow bond--instant headache relief.

Sol grabbed it. Sol drained it. Sol coughed and flushed--Man-o-Manischewitz, that's good!

He winced. He rolled off the hood. He stood straight up. He grabbed the lamp. He bent the neck. He flashed light on Wayne.

"Your father told me some things about you, sonny boy."

Wayne said, "I'm listening."

"I could tell you some things about that sick hump."

Wayne bent the lamp down. The light bounced and fizzed.

"You can tell me. I won't hurt you."

Sol coughed. Sol hacked phlegm--thick and blood-infused.

"He said you had it bad for his wife. Like a little pervert puppy."

Wayne said, "And?"

"And you never had the gumption to act."

Pete watched Wayne. Pete watched his hands. Pete got in close.

Wayne said, "And?"

"And Daddy shouldn't preach, 'cause he's a sick hump as far as his wife is concerned."

Pete watched Wayne. Pete blocked his hands. Pete closed in close.

Wayne said, "And?"

Sol coughed. "And Daddy has Mommy screw these guys that he wants to cultivate, and Mommy had this unauthorized thing with a colored musician named Wardell Gray, and Daddy beat him to death with his cane."

Wayne swayed. Sol laughed. Sol flipped his tie in his face.

"Fuck you. You're a punk. You're a hump like your daddy."

54.

(Las Vegas, 9/14/64)

The Golden Gorge--11:00 p.m.

Twelve rooms. Sleepy braceros. Room #5--empty. Room #4--trysted up.

They showed at 9:00. They brought two cars. Kinman brought liquor. Janice brought the key.

Wayne watched. Wayne walked the parking lot. Wayne brought tools. Wayne brought lockpicks and a penlight.

Pervert pup. Hump like your-- The lot was dead. No loungers/no muchachos/no drunks flaked in cars. Room #5--no windows. Room #4--dark.

Wayne braced door 5. Wayne got his tools out. Wayne flashed the locks.

Eleven brown doors. One green door as standout. One pervert-pup joke.

Wayne worked the picks. Wayne rotated clockwise and counter. Wayne tapped both locks.

His hands jumped. He dripped sweat. He gored his thumbs. Clockwise/reverse it/go count-- The top lock snapped.

He popped one tumbler. He wiped his hands. He popped one mo-- The bottom lock snapped.

Wayne wiped his hands. Wayne leaned on the door. Wayne rode the door and stepped in.

He shut the door. He flashed the room. It was small. It smelled familiar.

Old smells--embedded. Wayne Senior's booze. Wayne Senior's tobacco.

Wayne flashed the floor. Wayne flashed the walls. Wayne got the gestalt.

A chair. A sideboard. One ashtray/one bottle/one glass. One mirrorpeek. Room #4 access. A wall speaker/soundproof wall pads/a sound switch.

Wayne sat down. Wayne made the chair--surplus from Peru, Indiana. The peek was dark. Room #4 was dark. Wayne poured a drink.

He downed it. It singed. He rode the burn out. The peek was 3-by-3. The standard cop size--the stock mirror-mount.

Wayne hit the switch. Wayne heard Kinman moan. Wayne heard Janice moan counterpoint.

Janice moaned arch. Janice moaned smut-actress style--Stag Loop 101.

Wayne poured a drink. Wayne downed it. Wayne rode the burn out. Kinman came--ooo-ooo-ooo. Janice came concurrent. Janice came mezzofalsetto--smut meets the Met.

Wayne heard soft talk. Wayne heard giggles. Wayne heard speaker warp. A light went on. Room #4 flared.

Janice got out of bed. Janice stood up nude. Janice walked to her side of the mirror. She lingered. She posed. She grabbed her cigarettes off a dresser.

Wayne leaned in tight. Janice blurred. Wayne leaned way back to reframe. Kinman said something. Kinman murmured sweet talk. Kinman was oblivious. Kinman knew fuck-all.