Jean-Jacques Tibor - The loser_s wife

Johnny kept rambling on, crying and holding onto her like a lost child and it was almost two hours before she could get him to sleep – and then only by holding him and rocking him back and forth in her arms.

Laura watched her husband replace the microphone on the stand and bow to the audience. Many people in the large cabaret closed stood and applauded and Laura felt the tears filling her eyes. It's so rotten, she thought, he's the greatest singer in the world and he's being torn apart by that bastard Vito!

She began to wonder what would happen if she ran up onto the stage and told everyone in the audience what the gambler was doing to Johnny and her – if she made Johnny take off his shirt and show them the great, raw bruises that covered his chest and ribs. And then she remembered what she had read lately about human apathy, about crowds standing by in New York and watching a woman get raped and killed, the bystanders doing nothing because they "didn't want to get involved". Damn them, if she told them about Deke Vito the audience would probably just get up and leave mumbling something about it being someone else's problem.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Harry, the bartender, as he reminded her that it was almost eight-thirty.

"Mrs. Dutton, are you crying?" There was genuine concern in his voice as he stared at the pain-stricken expression on the young girls' face. "Is something wrong, is there anything I can do?"

"What? Oh, Harry, no, there's nothing… I'll tell you about it someday. I promise I'll tell someone!" she said cryptically.

He looked wonderingly after her as she abruptly left the bar and walked toward the elevator. It's Deke Vito, he guessed correctly. I'll bet that son-of-a-bitch finally got to her.

As he walked back down to the customer at the other end of the bar he hoped he was wrong. Harry was one of the few people in the casino who was aware of Deke Vito's activities. The bartender had been working that same bar for so long that there was very little that went on in the club that didn't eventually reach his ears.

I'm sure it is, he thought again, Vito's probably holding Johnny's gambling over her head and making her work for him. I sure like that little girl, and if I find out that that bastard's putting the screws to her – maybe I'll return the favor. Yeah, maybe I'll tell Laura Dutton a few things that could be very embarrassing for Deke Vito.

The bartender went back to work, but as he did he made a resolution to himself to talk to the singer's wife and find out if his suspicions were correct.

A bartender is forced to turn a sympathetic ear to most of his customers, and many of the girls that had worked through the years for Deke Vito had stopped in at some time or another to cry on Harry's shoulder. Harry had listened to what the girls were forced to do, and he'd also found that Deke Vito had a weakness. The bartender knew that the casino, Mr. Mornay in fact, paid for the girl's services whenever they were sent up to one of the big-time gamblers – but Harry also found out that Deke Vito had been cheating the casino. He'd told Mornay the girls charged one price and then made a substantial cut off the top before he gave the girls a smaller amount.

Harry knew that information relayed to Mr. Mornay could make things very unpleasant for Deke Vito and had saved it in case the gambler ever tried to make things rough for him. And, now he'd decided that if Vito was hurting Laura Dutton it might be the time to pass along a few facts to the casino owner.

He had no doubts about what Vito would do to him if he found out where the information had come from, but he'd watched what that greasy sonofabitch had done to too many young, innocent girts… married or not.

Laura's mind was numb with anger and pain as she stepped out of the elevator on the top floor. She took a tissue out of her purse and wiped the tears from her eyes and touched up her make-up before she rang the doorbell at Mornay's suite.

I don't care so much anymore about those photographs, she thought, I just can't let him hurt Johnny. I'll do what I have to, but I'm going to find some way to get back at that bastard. I wonder what sort of treat that greasy pig has in store for me tonight. I'll get him. Oh God, I swear I'll get him!

It was Black Jack again who took her coat as she stepped into the huge living room. It's strange, she thought as she looked at the giant Negro. Even after what happened that first night, somehow I feel he's my friend. The only one I have up here.

She smiled at him, "Good evening, Black Jack."

"Good evening, Missy." That great rumbling voice was so low that no one else in the room could have heard it. Laura wondered it she was still the only one that had ever heard him speak.

She was a little surprised by the scene before her. Laura had thought that she would be the only one up there tonight, but there were about ten other girls talking and drinking, some of them she recognized from the last time she walked into this room.

"Black Jack, please make me a drink. A strong one!" She turned to the huge man. "What does the greasy bastard have planned for this evening?"

"Another party, Missy. Another bad party." He took her elbow and led her to the bar. Silently, he mixed her a drink and then as he handed it to her: "Take care of yourself, Missus Dutton."

"Hey, girls. Look! Look at the new one."

Laura heard the woman's strident voice, and then saw everyone's eyes on her. She tried to return their stares calmly but felt the chills run down her back and felt the weakness beginning in her knees. Finally, she turned her back to them and tried to collect her thoughts as the sipped her drink.

How was the going to do it, she thought. Whatever "IT" was. Laura didn't know exactly what was expected from her. She hadn't seen any men yet, not even Vito, but she knew that pretty soon that would change. What do they do, I wonder, herd the lechers in like cattle for feeding?

She turned at the touch of her shoulder. A girl had tapped her, a beautiful blonde girl who looked about twenty-two.

"Hi. I'm Rita, what's your name?"

"Laura… I mean…"

"That's all right, Laura. We don't really care what your real name is. Nobody ever uses their real name."

Laura sensed the warmth and friendliness in the girl's voice. It made her feel a little better, and she relaxed as the girl took her arm.

"Come on. Let's sit down."

She followed the girl over to the couch, feeling a small laugh inside as she wanted to ask what a nice girl like her was doing in a place like this.

"You're new, aren't you?" the girl asked her casually as she raised her glass in a toast.

"Yes, I've never been to a party like this before." There was a tremor in her voice as she spoke.

"Hey, you're scared, aren't you. How in the world did Vito ever get you to… well, never mind, it's none of my business." The girl, Rita, nodded to Black Jack to bring them another drink. "Listen, don't worry, there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Rita, what do they do? What happens here later on?" Laura forced herself to ask almost fearful of what the answer was going to be.

The girl laughed. "Well, other than the obvious, nothing much. We just stand around for a while and watch the tricks gamble, and tell them how brilliant and handsome they are."

"Where do they come from, the men, I mean. Who are they?"

"Gamblers mostly. Or some special friend of Vito's or Mornay." She paused. "And actors too. Hey, guess who I was with last time?" Rita actually seemed to be waiting for her to guess, then she added very proudly: "Hal Wilson!"

Laura was a little surprised at the mention of the legendary financier, then the girl continued: "I was so surprised when he picked me. Imagine… Hal Wilson! And you wouldn'ta believed it, he was so nice. Wow! And afterwards, that man sure knew how to play in the sack. I was beginning to feel like an acrobat."