Charlie Huston - A Dangerous Man

I don’t have a TV, but I do pick up a paper sometimes. Miguel Arenas. Star of Stanford’s 2003 College World Series-winning baseball team. Miguel Arenas. Star of the USA’s 2004 Olympic gold medal-winning baseball team. Miguel Arenas. Out of school at the end of his junior year, the New York Mets’ first round pick in this year’s Major League draft. First pick overall. Number one.

I watch Miguel’s back as he weaves smoothly through the packed casino. And now I know what’s familiar about him. It’s not his face or his accomplishments that I know him from. It’s his walk, his grace. He moves like me. The way I was meant to move. The way I still move in my dreams. The good ones anyway.

I FOLLOW UNCLE Fester as he stumbles away and kick him in the asshole again. He screams and reaches back, but my next kick is already on the way. It lands on his fingers and his pinkie pops out of joint. He’s reeling around now, reaching down between his legs with one hand, grabbing at his anus, and waving the other hand in the air, his pinkie sticking out at a right angle to the rest of his fingers. I grab the tail of his T-shirt and yank it up, dragging his arms up over his head. I push him to his knees and kick him three more times on the asshole and he flops forward, crying, blood starting to seep through the seat of his pants.

WE’RE ROLLING IN the Olds, cruising from the Palms to the Rhino. From the frying pan to the fire, Vegas style.

Miguel is up front with me. One of the girls, I think it’s the schoolteacher, in his lap. Her legs are getting tangled in the stick shift and I keep having to push them to the side. It happens again and she takes her tongue out of Miguel’s mouth.

– Sorry. Am I in your way? Sorry. Here.

She wiggles around until she’s straddling Miguel’s lap. He takes advantage of having his mouth free for a second and has a word with Jay.

– Screw the Rhino, let’s hit some more tables.

Jay is in the backseat with the other two girls. He’s been making out with both and talked them into kissing each other, but he was disappointed by the little peck on the lips they shared.

– No, yo. Like, kiss. Let’s see it, get some tongue in there.

The girls start frenching.

Miguel slaps Jay’s knee.

– Hear me, man?

Jay keeps his eyes on the girls as their tongues slide in and out of each other’s mouths.

– I hear you, yo, but I’m a little distracted.

The schoolteacher is chewing on Miguel’s ear as he talks to Jay.

– Get undistracted. I want to roll some more.

Jay takes his eyes from the show and puts his face close to Miguel’s.

– Yo, that was a hundred G’s and change back there. Let’s take a break.

– Fuck the hundred G’s. Last hurrah, man. Got another hundred to get even with. I want to roll.

Jay puts a finger in his face.

– No. We’re taking a break. Yo.

He points at the necking girls.

– Check this shit out. Get into this shit. Get your head in this game, yo.

Miguel nods.

– Yeah, yeah, man. S’cool. You’re right.

– Yo.

Jay claps his hands.

– I know what this party needs. This party needs some x. You ladies know where we can score some x?

The schoolteacher in Miguel’s lap detaches her mouth from his ear.

– I’m from Flagstaff. But if you can get some that would be great.

Jay separates the girls in the back.

– Ladies?

They whisper in each other’s ears, then the one in the silver top gives him their verdict.

– No, but we’ll totally take it if you can get it. But don’t think you’re going to get us in a three-way.

– Yo. A three-way? What’s that?

She laughs.

Jay’s eyes go wide with innocence.

– No, seriously. What’s a three-way?

He puts his face close to hers.

– Explain it to me.

She laughs.

– Nooo.

– Come on, baby. Here.

He taps his earlobe.

– Whisper it in my ear.

She puts her mouth close to his ear and starts to whisper. Jay puts his hand over his mouth.

– Oh my. You girls are naughty. Yo, Mike, these girls are naughty. We got to get these girls some x.

He leans forward.

– So, yo, Scarface. Know where we could score a little sumthin’ sumthin’?

Do I know where they could score?

I reach into my jacket pocket and touch the unmarked brown pill bottle that contains exactly five white tablets imprinted with tiny smiling monkey faces. I wonder, will this qualify for keeping them out of trouble or getting them into trouble?

Fuck it. It’ll be better than having them running around the Rhino trying to score off the strippers. I pull out the pill bottle and hand it to Jay.

There is a moment of utter silence. Then Jay grabs my neck, leans over my shoulder and kisses my cheek.

– Yo, Scarface!

And he leads the chant that fills the car.

– Scar-face! Scar-face! Scar-face!

JAY AND VALIANT are still at it. I walk toward them, looking at the ground for a weapon so I don’t have to punch the guy and risk breaking my hand. I see a magazine. I pick it up and roll it into a tight cylinder and stand over the two writhing bodies. I take aim and slam the magazine across the back of Valiant’s head. He goes cross-eyed and I grab him by the collar and drag him off of Jay. I hit him a few more times, the magazine cracking his cheekbone before I drop him.

WEDNESDAY NIGHT AT the Spearmint Rhino and the place is a zoo.

Jumping the line is easy, just a matter of a couple C-notes for the guys at the door, but it makes me even more of a hero to Miguel, Jay and the Rain girls. Once inside, the trick becomes moving. The only open space is around the huge rectangular bar. I make a stop there and get a thousand dollars in dance tokens and hand them to the guys. Miguel starts shaking his head, but I force them into his hand.

– It’s part of the service.

Jay is doling out tokens to the girls.

– Yeah, yo, it’s part of the service.

I order Cuba Libres for the boys and Stoli cranberries for the girls. There are booths along the wall where strippers are giving lap dances. The real action is in the other direction, but the crowd around the stages and tables is so thick that the only way you can see the dancers is by looking at the video monitors above the bar. Jay points at the crowd.

– Yo, Scarface. We want in.

So I get them in. It costs another couple hundred, but one of the bouncers plows into the crowd and comes back a couple minutes later and waves us to a table. The group he just kicked off of it stands to the side and gives us dirty looks.

The atmosphere is a touch less formal here than at the Palms. In less than half an hour I notice people starting to notice Miguel. Soon after they start coming by the table to shake his hand. He takes it in stride, and I try to look intimidating to anyone who might want to cause trouble. In the normal course of events, an MLB draft pick, even the first pick, would only be recognized by the most rabid seamheads. But Miguel is different. His achievements during last year’s Olympics gave him unprecedented visibility for an amateur player. He’s not superstar recognizable, and mostly it’s the men who know who he is, but he still draws traffic. I keep my sunglasses on.

At first Miguel keeps pestering Jay about heading for another casino.

– There aren’t even slots in here, man!

But eventually Jay pours enough booze down Miguel’s throat, and he sees enough tits, that he gets into the spirit of the place.

Jay gets lap dances. Miguel gets lap dances. The Rain girls get lap dances. Jay pays the dancers to lap dance each other. Glasses pile on the table.

Hours pass like that.

Then Jay says something.