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||| 145 ||| “It’s different now.” “Come to the house Thursday. That’s your day off, right? You should see something.” I shook my head. “I can’t go around wondering if someone’s following me. And this detective thinks I’m involved with Gabe. I met him once.” “Harsh world, huh?” I snorted. “Look, Hefty’s probably going to fire me anyhow. He dumped me out of the Monaco.” “He won’t.” Ben said it as if it were a known fact. “Just who are you, Ben?” He stared at me over his drink. “What kind of question is that?” “You’ve got a big house, a housekeeper, a Mercedes, everything people want. Why rip off casinos?” “Are you wired, Jude?” “No, just curious.” He smiled. “I don’t indulge people’s curiosity. Enjoy your wine. This time, you pick up the tab. Everyone has to pay his way from now on.” 32 The following Thursday, Ben called me in the morning and woke me. He said he wanted me to come to his place around noon. I told him I would be busy and couldn’t make it. “Oh, I think you can make it. I’ve got something you must see.” “No, I really can’t. I’ve got plans.” “Plans? Jude, you have no plans. You’ve never had a plan.” “I have lately.” “Okay, no games here. You wanted to know who I am. Let’s start answering that by saying I’m someone who has your future in his hands. Forget your plans. Come over.” he opened the door, said, “Glad you came. You’ve been on our minds, Jude,” and motioned me inside, his tone now a complete switch from the menacing one I’d heard over the phone. Playing the debonair host Audie had first introduced me to, he pointed to a portable buffet in the den and told me to make myself at home, that his house was always open to me. Angel sat on a couch, his back to us. He looked over his shoulder and offered a curt hello. “Angel, be polite,” Ben said. “Jude’s a friend.” ||| 146 ||| Ben handed me a napkin and held up a silver platter of liverwurst sandwiches and deviled eggs. I hesitated. “We’re all friends here, Jude. And food goes well with entertainment.” “Entertainment?” I selected a liverwurst. “Everything’s better with a little food in the stomach.” Ben set the platter down on a table and grinned. “I’ve got something to show you in the other room. Angel, come with us.” Ben told me to bring along the sandwich. He placed a hand on my back and guided me to the door. Angel followed us to the game room. The door was open. Ben told me to have a seat by the television. He picked up the remote and flicked on the television. A grainy image of the Fremont Street mall came on the screen. It had obviously been filmed using a compact camera . The video scanned to the brickwork on the street, the picture quivering as if either the ground or the camera was unstable. Despite the quality, I clearly saw myself on the screen, first me from the back side, then my profile as I entered the glass door of the Whiskey River. I stiffened. “What’s this?” Ben said, “Watch.” My stomach tightened as the camera lost me for a moment, and then it picked me up inside the casino and followed my path to the table. I dropped the sandwich and napkin on the chair as the camera zoomed in and captured my eighty-dollar buy-in. Who? How? I hadn’t seen a video camera. Although I was clearly in the video, as was the dealer’s three-quarter profile, the only visible parts of Angel were his arm and hand. The lens was angled so he and Patty Lane were off camera. Every move I made was captured. The video ran thirty-one minutes, each frame centered on me. It ended on a blurred image of me receiving $1,140 from a cashier. I forgot about Beth, the detective, Gabe, all the reasons I was prepared to quit. F and J Masonry vanished from my future, boxed, wrapped, and sealed inside that video. For a thousand dollars, split five ways. It had never been about money, just about his owning me. Ben, the man who left nothing to chance, owned me as Blitzstein had claimed...
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