Elmore Leonard - Glitz

He had given her the plane ticket but no money, no paycheck, because she hadn’t yet started to work. He would have to give her money for hostess dresses, too, a red one, a bright green one…

She had worn her black cocktail dress, nice one but old, last night when she went to Tommy’s hotel to get her ticket. Waited forever and then sat in a booth in the Sultan’s Lounge between Tommy and a fat guy with curly hair named Jackie Garbo. The Caribbean group, La Tuna, was gone. The picture out in the lobby for the past two weeks was of a girl named Linda Moon. She was playing the piano and singing slow songs.

Tommy called to her, “Do ‘Here’s That Rainy Day’ again.”

The girl looked at him for several moments across the piano before she began to play it, for the third time.

Iris tried to sit closer to Tommy than to Jackie Garbo, so Tommy wouldn’t get jealous. Jackie Garbo’s leg was against her, the way they were squeezed into the curved booth looking from this dark part of the room to the girl playing in a pink spotlight. The girl, Linda Moon, sang in a low voice without trying very hard.

Tommy said to Jackie Garbo, “What do you think?”

Iris felt Jackie Garbo’s hand come to rest on her thigh and pat it lightly, keeping time with the music. It was okay, he was being friendly. Jackie Garbo worked for Tommy in Atlantic City. He was in charge of the casino up there.

He said to Tommy, “You want a cocktail piano in the lounge?”

“She’s good,” Tommy said. “She did six weeks at the Candado Beach. They wanted to renew and I swung with her.”

“She’s good,” Jackie Garbo said, “but she’ll put the fucking people to sleep. Couple of sets like that, they go beddy-bye.”

“She can do up-tempo, anything.”

“I hope so,” Jackie Garbo said. “You don’t have chairs in the lobby you don’t want people to sit down and fall asleep. Same thing. Lounge act, man, you gotta keep ’em alive. Rest a set, get back in that casino.”

“I like her,” Tommy said. “She’s good.”

“You like her, take her,” Jackie Garbo said. “Play her noon to four, nobody’s in there anyway.” He snapped his fingers and said, “What about, hey, put her in with that jig group, what’s their name, they got all the fucking drums, the washtub-”

Tommy said, “You mean La Tuna?”

“La Tuna. Why not? Those guys-you sit and listen to those cats you can’t sleep for two days, your fucking head’s ringing. You want to do this broad a favor put her up there in front of La Tuna, featured. Get rid of the piano, give her some maracas, some fucking thing, you know, make some noise, shake her ass. They need a broad.”

“It’s an idea,” Tommy said, “but I don’t think she’ll buy it. She’s a tough lady.”

“You mean, she won’t buy it. Tell her, for Christ sake.”

Iris could feel Jackie Garbo’s hand trying to squeeze her leg. The hand down there the same as the little fat hand pinching the stem of his champagne glass on the table. When the hand down there couldn’t get a good grip it moved up her leg, exploring, wanting to know if she was wearing panties. Iris hoped a casino manager was an important guy. He was asking Tommy if Linda Moon wanted to go big time or stay here among the fucking natives. Tommy said he wasn’t going to spring La Tuna on her yet. He’d ease her into the idea. Jackie Garbo said, “You know how many cocktail piano players there are on the circuit?”

Iris didn’t like Jackie Garbo, his hand or the way he spoke. She couldn’t understand how he could talk this way to his boss, the man who owned the hotels. Or speak about her , in front of her, as though his hand knew she was at the table but the rest of Jackie Garbo didn’t. Saying, “Iris’s gonna do all right, lemme tell you. You know who’s gonna flip when he sees her?” Tommy nodding, winking at her-yes, but what was the secret of that wink? It was a different kind of wink than before. Winked at her but meant for Jackie Garbo.

When Linda Moon finished her set she came to the booth and sat in a chair across from them. She folded her hands saying she didn’t care for anything to drink. Tommy told her he loved her and then said, “I want you to think about something, rather than doing straight cocktail piano…”

Linda said, “I don’t play cocktail piano, Mr. Donovan, when I have a choice. When I don’t have requests coming at me.”

Tommy said, “Hey, knock off that Mr. Donovan. You know my name. I want you to think about maybe a group, getting some backup.”

Linda said, “I am a group, Mr. Donovan. I’ve got a keyboard, synthesizers, two guys in New York I can get in a minute, guitar and drums. Or I can go with the guitar and a rhythm box if you want. I’ve got charts on pop, top forty, some original stuff… You have to hear us, Mr. Donovan.”

“You mean Tommy,” Tommy said. “What’s the name of the group?”

Linda said, “Moon. You like it? Just Moon.”

Tommy said, “I can dig it. Yeah, I like it.”

Jackie Garbo said, “I want to see your rhythm box. You play loud?”

Iris watched Linda, sitting with her hands folded, turn her eyes on him and say, “Jackie, we drive. You want, we’ll blow ’em right out of the fucking lounge into the casino. Would you go for that? Give me eight weeks guaranteed and you’re going to want eight more.”

Iris watched Linda because she was so calm and didn’t seem afraid of these guys. Tommy said to her, “Lady?” and sounded serious. Then smiled and said, “Let’s see what we can put together.” Right after that Tommy and Jackie Garbo left the table. Iris continued to watch Linda as she poured a little champagne now and sipped it.

Iris said, “They don’t have to hire you they don’t want to.” She saw Linda look up from her glass. “I mean, you work for them,” Iris said, “but you don’t act, you know, ascared of how they can treat you.”

Linda said, “What’s the worst thing they can do, make me play ‘Shake, Rattle and Roll’ every set? I know the lounge audience, what’s expected. Who’s working the main room? Tom Jones? Liberace? That gives you an idea. I’ll do three golden oldies for every one I want to play, and if that doesn’t work, well, I can always break my fingers. Right? Draw workmen’s comp. I have to go back to work.”

Iris sat there trying to figure out what Linda said. Then Vincent came in the Sultan’s Lounge and she had something else to think about.

Now Tommy was walking away from the Duty Free counter with his cigarettes, going to his wife to sit down next to her, the wife still looking at the magazine. Iris watched. She’d try to see if there was love between them. She didn’t think so. Then she couldn’t see them. There was a shirt with flowers coming to stand close in front of her. She looked up as Teddy said:

“Well, I’ll be.” Smiling at her, holding his camera case and a ticket envelope. “I thought you’d already gone.”

What Iris thought in that moment, he was going to ask her to give him back the souvenir parrot and the hundred-dollar bill. But he didn’t. He seemed very happy to see her. Maybe he wouldn’t think of the money.

The fifty he had paid to go to bed with her wasn’t in question. She had earned it. When they were in the bed he asked her if she could cry and look afraid. She told him if she could cry whenever she wanted she wouldn’t have to do this, she’d be a movie star. That made him angry. He took the little knife he used to clean his fingernails from his money belt-wearing the money belt naked-put the tip of the knife in her nose and said, “You want me to shove it all the way up?” She said, okay, okay, and gave him an Oscar performance. It wasn’t hard to be afraid with the knife blade in her nose. It took a minute, less than that, and he was smiling again to show he was really a nice guy. But he wasn’t. He was the creepiest guy she ever met.