James Swain - Take Down

Misty wasn’t a goner. Billy had figured out a way to save her. It was going to cost him, but that was true for most things that kept a person out of jail.

“You done?” Billy asked.

“For now,” his attorney said.

“Don’t forget to get me that info,” Billy said, and hopped out of the car.

Billy pulled in front of Gabe’s place at 3:00 a.m. and killed the engine.

Human beings were creatures of habit. Upon discovering comfortable routines, they repeated them endlessly without thinking. Even criminals, who should have known better.

His crew was no different. They’d gone to Gabe’s place to hole up, their cars lining the driveway. Seeing no gaming agents snooping around, Billy got the strongbox from the trunk and held it against his chest as he lugged it up the front path.

He banged the front door with his knee. Bare feet pounded the foyer, Misty and Pepper the first to greet him. They planted kisses on his unshaven face and hugged his stinking body. He followed them down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Look who’s here,” Misty said.

The others were at the kitchen table eating cold pizza. They came out of their chairs and slapped him on the back. He cleared a spot on the table and put down the strongbox.

“Did you post bail?” Travis asked.

“Believe it or not, I talked my way out of it,” he said.

“You must have done a real snow job on them.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet.”

The strongbox still had sand on it. He cleaned it off, popped the lid, and handed out stacks of bills to his crew. The money inside the strongbox had been his first big score. He’d scammed a blackjack game at Caesars using a perfect-strategy computer built into his shoes, the vibrating solenoids telling him how to play each hand. Instead of blowing the money on wine, women, and song, he’d bought a strongbox and buried the money beneath a large conifer tree in the desert.

“The gaming board is pissed,” he said. “You need to lay low for a while, let the dust settle. Use this money to pay your bills and stuff. And whatever you do, don’t go into the casinos.” He turned to Misty. “You’re the one they really want. They’re going to try to track you down. They’ve got brand new technology that will be hard to beat.”

“Am I toast?” Misty asked.

“You are if we don’t do something.”

He pulled two more stacks out of the strongbox and gave them to her. “Would you consider going to a plastic surgeon and getting a face-lift? The woman on that tape needs to disappear.”

“And I thought you just liked me more,” Misty said, fingering the stacks. “Shit, Billy, I’ll do anything if it means not going to jail. You know that.”

“You’re the best,” he said.

“Should I go back to using my real name, too?”

“Misty’s not your real name?”

“Oh, come on. Half the girls in the porn business go by Misty. Misty Stacks, Misty Love, Misty Mountains, Misty Haze. I thought everyone and his half brother knew that. My real name’s Patty Driver. It’s on my driver’s license. Misty can be gone tomorrow.”

“Then make her disappear.” To the others he said, “If you have questions about what I just told you, ask them now.”

His crew acted cool with the deal. He suddenly felt flat-out exhausted, and dropped into a chair. Without thinking, he picked up a half-eaten slice from a plate and took a bite out of it. He chewed mechanically and felt himself start to unwind.

“You’re leaving out the good part,” Pepper said. “When do we go back to Galaxy and get our score? I’ve got places to go and things to do with that money.”

“We have to wait awhile. I know it’s a drag, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“How long?”

“Three months. Maybe longer.”

His crew let out a collective groan. He wanted to tell them there was nothing wrong with delayed gratification but didn’t think they’d appreciate the sermon. One by one, they drifted out of the kitchen into different parts of the house.

Except for Misty. She’d run with Billy long enough to know that he would want to hear how her little adventure had gone.

“Any problems hiding the score?” he asked.

“It went without a hitch. I rode the service elevator to the fourteenth floor, found the dirty coveralls in the storage closet, and threw them on,” she said. “I walked past a couple of workers in the hall, and they didn’t pay me any attention. I went to room 1412 like you said and stashed the money orders behind the AC duct in the open closet wall. It took two minutes, tops.”

“Did anyone talk to you?”

“No. You’re going to find this is funny, but I’ve been wanting to get a face-lift for years.”

“But you’ve got a beautiful face.”

“Some guy put the blow job movies I did on a free porn website, and there’s no way I can get them down. My face is out there, if you know what I mean.”

“So this is a good thing.”

“Yeah. I’m ready for a change.”

She left the kitchen and he finished eating the slice. In a few days, room 1412 would be finished, the closet wall sealed up. When the time was right, he’d make a reservation at the hotel and ask for that suite, telling the reservationist it was his lucky number. Gamblers were by nature a superstitious group, and his request would not draw scrutiny.

He’d check into the hotel under a false name. In his luggage would be an electric saw. The morning of his departure, he’d play loud music in the suite and cut a hole in the closet wall. The money orders would go into a piece of luggage, which a bellman would remove from the room and put in Billy’s car. This method of taking stolen money out of a casino wasn’t new; casino employees had been using it for years to rip off their employers and supplement their 401(k)s.

He got pumped just thinking about it.

He went to say good-bye to his crew. It was going to be a while before they hooked up again, and he wanted to look each of them in the eye and make sure they were okay with cutting up the score later on. Last thing he needed was for one of them to get sore and start shooting their mouth off. Misty and Pepper were in the study huddled in front of the computer, checking out the before and after photos of face-lifts on a plastic surgeon’s splashy website, Pepper saying, “You’re going to look ten years younger, girl. Think of all the rich men you’ll meet.” Misty laughed mischievously under her breath.

“I’ve got to blow. Call me if anything comes up, or you want to talk,” Billy said.

“You going to stay in town?” Misty asked.

“I’m taking a friend to LA. I might hang there awhile.”

“The plastic surgeon I’m thinking of using is in LA. Maybe we can get together while I’m recuperating, go hang out at Disneyland or something.”

“That would be a blast. Let’s do it.”

They said their good-byes. Pepper walked with him into the hallway.

“Hey, Billy, do you think I could get a face-lift, too?” Pepper asked. “I was in those movies with Misty. It would let us both make a clean break, if you know what I mean.”

He couldn’t say no without hurting Pepper’s feelings. In the kitchen he gave her two more stacks from the strongbox. She squealed with delight and kissed him.

Next stop was the garage, where Gabe and Travis were preparing to move the bulky Italian press and spark-erosion machine that the fake chips had been manufactured on.

“I’m out of here. Are you guys good with everything?” Billy asked.

“I’m good,” Travis said.

“Same here,” Gabe said.

He asked them how they planned to spend the time away from the casinos.