Charlie Stella - Charlie Opera

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A guy goes to Las Vegas for a holiday. In a matter of hours he gets drunk, gets mugged, and gets dumped by his wife. Things could get worse, and do, in this new crime novel from Charlie Stella. With bravura, alternating brutality with humor and high-octane action with virtuoso tough-guy dialogue, Stella crafts his story of Charlie Pellecchia, whose unwitting entanglement with New York mobster Nicky Cuccia plops him in the path of the DEA, FBI, and Las Vegas police. Law enforcement may find Charlie awkwardly in its way, but elsewhere – in deluxe casino hotel suites, at deserted construction sites, on quiet residential streets – a bodybuilding punk looking to be made, a professional killer, a mob chief's double-dealing accountant, and a pair of Vietnamese gangbangers are all trying to put Charlie permanently out of the way. All because he broke a wiseguy's jaw. Add to the mix hookers with felonious kinks, a cop deeply troubled by his wife's infidelity, a ham-fisted redneck with vengeance on his mind, and some bad faith between a Brooklyn crime family and the Russian mob. Things go down tough in this gritty underworld thriller where the name of the game is Charlie Opera.

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“You’re cute when you cough.”

She continued to cough. “I’ll bet.” She put the cigarette out in the ashtray. “Aren’t you afraid to go home?” she asked. “To New York.”

“I haven’t thought about that. I guess I want to believe it’s over. They wanted me, they got me. What the DEA agent said. Not that I trust him any farther than I can throw him. But I’m not going to the police.”

An uncomfortable pause followed. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her.

He asked her if he could have an ice water. He watched her move around the kitchen. Her leg muscles flexed as she stood up on her toes to reach for a glass. Charlie looked up her legs to the hem of her shorts.

She turned to him. “Get it all in?”

He felt himself blush under his bruises. “I didn’t think it was that obvious.”

“Well?”

He looked down at a bruise on the top of his right hand. “Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Samantha said as she smiled.

He could fall in love with that smile.

When she brought him the glass, she sat on his lap and kissed him lightly on his lips. She removed his sunglasses and kissed him again, harder this time.

“Ouch,” he said.

They made love as soon as Carol was gone. They had stood at the door and waved to Carol as she pulled away from the curb. Then Samantha closed the door as Charlie took her into his arms. Their kisses were passionate. They never made it to the bedroom.

They did it on the couch the first time. Samantha was vocal during their lovemaking. Charlie was more focused. They each wanted the other too much to engage in foreplay. When they were finished, they lay exhausted on the floor at the foot of the couch. Samantha cuddled against his chest.

“I wanted to do that since last night,” she said.

“Me, too,” he said.

“It was nice.”

Charlie glanced down. He said, “We need more time before we can do it again.”

Samantha poked him. “What do you mean ‘we,’ Kimosabe?”

It was slower and more deliberate in the bedroom. Samantha guided Charlie to where she wanted him. She pulled at his hair when she was close. She moaned loudly when she reached climax. Then she took over and brought Charlie back so they could both enjoy each other a third time.

They napped in Samantha’s bed afterward. When they woke up, they were both hungry.

“How’s the Chinese food in Las Vegas?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. “You want to order in?”

"That’s what I was thinking. My treat.”

“Big spender, huh?”

He kissed her on the forehead. “I have to check out tomorrow.”

Samantha frowned. “You going home?”

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Chapter 21

Detective Gold approached Officer Michael Wilkes in the parking lot of the Denny’s alongside the MGM Grand on Las Vegas Boulevard. Wilkes was out of uniform, on his way home after a ten-hour shift. Gold’s shift had hardly ended from the day before. Except for a few catnaps, the senior detective was living on caffeine one more time.

“Mike, we need to talk about something,” Gold told the officer after sipping black coffee from a container.

Wilkes was about to open the door of his car. He turned around and leaned against it instead. He took Gold’s right hand in his own to shake. “Sure, what’s up?” Wilkes asked.

“Jennifer Gentry,” Gold said, getting right to it.

Wilkes’s face turned to stone. “Who?”

“Detective Gentry’s wife. I know you’re seeing her. I watched you embrace half a block from her office. I know what it’s about, so let’s skip the denial part of this.”

Wilkes’s face showed defeat. He licked his bottom lip as he shook his head. “It’s one of those things,” he said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not here to chastise you for falling in love or for getting a piece on the side,” Gold said. “That’s your business. And hers. But you gotta realize what you’re playing with here before it explodes in your face. In all our faces. Gentry is a detective. He’s a fellow cop. To go one further, not that it really makes a difference, but he’s also my ex-partner’s son. His marriage problems aren’t my concern except for what could happen if it gets out of hand. I don’t know how long you’re involved with his wife, but he’s aware of it. You should take this into consideration. He’s aware his wife is cheating. He might not know who you are yet, but he knows there’s somebody.”

“You gonna tell him?” Wilkes asked.

Wilkes’s concerns were justifiably selfish. Gold liked that. It was a good sign. Maybe it would deter some of what was going on. At least it might put a pause on the affair while the married couple separated or divorced.

“Not who you are, no. But I’m also going to talk to his wife now. Right from here. If she’s gonna leave Gentry, she should do it already.”

“She says she wants to.”

“What about you and your wife?”

“We’re split up already. Almost a year now.”

Gold nodded. “Well, I just thought you should be aware of what’s going on. And don’t think you’ll find friends inside the department this ever comes out the wrong way. There isn’t a good way to handle this, but there sure is a wrong way. Use your head, whatever you do.”

Half an hour later, Gold was at the home of Detective Donald Gentry, where he knew he would find the detective’s wife alone. He rang the bell twice before she answered. Her face told him she already knew what he was there for.

“I’m sure Mike Wilkes called you,” Gold said.

Jennifer Gentry didn’t answer.

“I’m not here to threaten you,” Gold said. “Your husband asked to look into who’s having an affair with his wife. He knows about it. You weren’t careful with your diaphragm gel, for one thing.”

Gold waited for a response. When there wasn’t one, he said, “I won’t bullshit you, Jennifer. My concern is for your husband. You know who his father was. I’m advising you to either separate or divorce or get some counseling or whatever. But do something now, before something worse than a divorce happens. I’ve seen it before with cops. It can get ugly.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful about this?” she asked.

“No,” Gold said. “You’re supposed to smarten up.”

It was the kind of thing he hated, getting involved in a marital crisis, but he saw it as the best possible chance to keep the situation from becoming violent.

“I’ll talk to Donald,” Jennifer Gentry said.

Gold nodded and she closed the door on him.

Officer Michael Wilkes told Allen Fein they would have to make different arrangements to meet in the future. They were standing at a pay telephone in a minimall on the Strip. Fein made believe he was talking into the receiver. Wilkes made believe he was waiting for the phone.

“There’s another cop watching me,” Wilkes said. “About a woman I’m seeing. Some other cop’s wife. I have to lay low for a while.”

Fein turned away from Wilkes. He spoke loudly into the receiver. “That’s up to you, Officer,” he said. “Maybe the cop’s wife isn’t worth it. In the meantime, do you have anything on the blotter?”

Wilkes was still thinking about Jennifer Gentry. He was in love with her. He didn’t like it that Fein referred to her in so casual a manner.

“The name you gave me didn’t show,” he told Fein. “Not even at the Hertz in the airport.”

“You checked with the organized crime unit?”

“I’m not in the organized crime unit. I asked a friend with O.C. He said he never heard of this Lano.”

“You sure?”

“I couldn’t go in and ask like it was my business. I asked my friend about the name you gave me. Lano. I told him there was a guy from New York looking to sell something. I said I got it from a kid I picked up driving a stolen car yesterday. My friend never heard of him.”

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