Chapter Twenty Eight

The interior of the casino looked like any other, except for the people inside. Hollywood tells us that Las Vegas casinos are full of glamorous people celebrating their own glamor, reality tells us that it’s actually mostly retirees and ordinary people plugging their money into machines for thirty seconds, or less, of adrenaline. Hollywood doesn’t tell us, however, that outside of Las Vegas are the casinos where the people who aren’t fit for Last Vegas go. Cut rate casinos for cut rate people. This is where you’ll find small time hustlers, junkies, drop outs and the rest of the bottom of the barrel.

Scroat felt right at home.

The two of them wandered through the casino as they had in Las Vegas, looking for Inktomi. He would be easy to spot; he would be the one who wasn’t strung out, drunk, or retired.

They found him playing blackjack at a table with no one else. As he finished a hand, Hep and Scroat sat down on either side of him, and stared directly at him.

“Hey buddy, I think it’s time you took a break for a while,” Hep said to Inktomi. The dealer discreetly vanished, although ten cameras were trained on them, watching their every move. “What do you say we step outside?”

“Hep! Scroat! Man, you wouldn’t believe how relieved I am to see you two,” Inktomi said.

“You’re right, I probably wouldn’t. Would you mind telling me what happened to my house?” Hep said.

“Yeah, OK,” Inktomi said. “I think it would be better if we went outside though.” He then whispered, “They can hear every word we say in here, you know.”

“After you, then,” Hep said. The three of them got up and went through the casino to the front door. Outside there was a fresh batch of low-lifes leaning against the wall, smoking, talking on the phone, making deals and trying to hook up with whatever or whoever they needed.

“Why don’t we go for a ride?” Inktomi said, and gestured towards his car.

“Sweet. Let’s roll over to this brothel,” Scroat said, and waved the flier he’d gotten while talking to Coyote. “I’ve got enough cash I bet I can talk them into four for two!”

Hep rolled his eyes, but Inktomi said “Sure, why not.”

They got into his car and Inktomi started it up. The big V8 came to life, already drinking gasoline like it was water, and he hadn’t even put it in gear yet. He pulled out of the parking spot, and got back on to the main road through town. It felt like the car was floating on clouds. Great, tobacco and oil scented clouds.

Before long they had reached the end of a small road, and there they found the great, glittering brothels. Hep was again overcome by the surreality of a Disney-like building advertising pleasures of the flesh in the middle of the barren desert. But then, where would such a building seem normal?

Inktomi parked, and Scroat practically broke the door off in his rush to get out of the car and into the brothel. He rang the buzzer, and waited. Hep and Inktomi arrived just as the doorman said “Come in,” through a speaker, and buzzed the gate open.

They went inside, and there the unoccupied whores were lined up. The room was dark, and there was a blacklight on, which made it difficult to see anything besides a lot of welcoming skin. The madame greeted them, and asked what their pleasure would be.

Scroat held up his flier and said “I’d like this, twice, please.”

“And you gentlemen?” she said to Hep and Inktomi.

“I think we’ll just just avail ourselves of your bar, if you don’t mind, while he’s busy,” Hep said.

“Right over there, gentlemen,” the madame said.

Hep and Inktomi went to the bar and ordered a couple of drinks, then settled in to a couple of the easy chairs scattered about the room. The bar was brighter than the entryway, but only a little bit. There was a fireplace and, oddly enough, a small library. Hep wasn’t sure if any of the books on the bookshelves had ever been opened, but they definitely gave the bar a little extra class. The bookshelves, bar and tables were all made of dark wood, and the upholstery was all deep red fake leather. It did not escape Hep’s attention that such materials would be easy to wipe clean.

“So,” Hep said, “what happened to my house?”

“Man, I’m so sorry,” Inktomi said. “I was just hanging out, minding my own business, when this guy came to the door. I opened it before I recognized who it was. It was this guy I’d cleaned out playing Texas Hold ‘Em the week before.”

“You were cheating?” Hep said.

“Of course I was cheating, who do you think I am? But I wasn’t cheating all that much. Anyway, he was all bent out of shape, threatening all kinds of crap, so I decked him, and shut the door,” Inktomi said.

He took a sip of his drink, wiped his lips, and continued, “Well, I guess he didn’t take too kindly to that either. I heard him tear off in his car. About an hour later, he came back, and kicked in the door. He had a shotgun, and he demanded that I get out of the house. Well, I wasn’t going to argue with a crazy bastard waving a gun around, so I went outside and right away I could smell gasoline, or kerosene, or something nasty. He kept me at gunpoint, and said ‘this is what happens to people who rip me off,’ and then lit a zippo and threw it onto a puddle of fuel. Then he told me to run, and you’d better believe I didn’t wait for him to tell me twice.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hep said. “My house got burned down because of your gambling problem?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Inktomi said.

Scroat wandered into the bar then, wearing a white bathrobe, flip flops and a shit-eating grin.

“You just wouldn’t believe what a fantastic day I’m having all of a sudden,” Scroat said.

Hep looked at his watch. “Are you done already?”

“Fuck no! That was just round one. I gotta get my strength back, and then it’ll be round too. Excuse me, I need to get a drink,” Scroat said. He went over to the bar.

Hep was about to ask Inktomi another question, when he noticed someone standing in the entrance to the bar, watching them. He turned to see who it was.

It was Robert Wheeler, and he had a small pistol clenched at his waist in his right hand.

“Hello, Hep,” Robert said. “It’s good to see you, yet again. And Inktomi, what a pleasant surprise.”

Scroat was just coming back from the bar with a gin and tonic, when he spotted Robert.

“You! You motherfucker, what the fuck are you doing in my whorehouse? Get out of here before you scare all the girls into a life of purity and chastity,” Scroat said.

“Sorry to disturb you when you were, ahem, relaxing, Scroat, but this couldn’t wait.”

“What couldn’t wait?” Hep asked.

“Well, my meeting with Inktomi, of course. The one where he either gives me the money he owes me, or I kill him,” Robert said.

“How much did you con this guy for?” Hep asked Inktomi.

“Seventy thousand dollars. Isn’t that right, Inktomi?” Robert said.

“Something like that,” Inktomi said. He was staring at the floor next to Robert’s feet.

“Of course, with interest, that brings it up to an even one hundred thousand,” Robert said. “So, let’s talk business, shall we?”

He stepped closer to Inktomi, which gave Hep the advantage he needed to grab Robert and wrestle him to the floor. Robert dropped the gun, and Inktomi kicked it across the room. The bartender watched all of this with some amazement.

“Scroat, get over here,” Hep grunted as he held a struggling Robert Wheeler pinned to the floor.

“What?” Scroat said, still holding his gin and tonic.

“Give me your belt,” Hep said.

“Excuse me?” Scroat said.

Hep reached up with one hand and tore Scroat’s belt free. He used it to deftly tie Robert’s hands behind his back.

“HEY!” Scroat yelled, now clutching his drink in one hand, and keeping his robe closed with the other.

“Sorry,” Hep said. He hauled Robert Wheeler to his feet, and said to Inktomi, “I think we need to go out to your car, don’t you?”

“What? Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Inktomi said. “I’ll just, uh, grab that gun.”

He hustled over, picked up Robert’s gun, and stuck it in his pocket. The bartender watched closely, but didn’t say anything. He was ready to call the police if necessary, but only if it looked like blood was actually going to be spilled on the premises. Police reports were bad for business.

“Well, looks like you guys have things under control, so I’ll just stay here and see about my second special,” Scroat said.

“Sorry, Scroat, it’s going to have to be another day. Get dressed and meet us outside,” Hep said.

“Fuck! You fucking guys, always wrecking my good time. Robert, I’ve got half a mind to kick you so hard in the nuts everything you eat for the next year will taste like peanut butter and jelly.”

“Yeah, yeah, Scroat. Clothes! Outside!” Hep said. He pushed Robert outside, while Inktomi followed behind him.

“What are we going to do with him?” Inktomi asked.

“We’re going to put him into the trunk of your car and drive out into the desert and have a nice little chat with our friend Robert here. Maybe we’ll find out a bit about why he thought burning down the house of a couple of gods was a good idea. And maybe we’ll find out how come he kept showing up everywhere we’ve been on this trip,” Hep said.

Inktomi opened the trunk of the Cadillac. It was remarkably clean.

“Look at that, you’ll be riding in comfort, man. Now, you can get in there nicely, or I can cram you in there backwards,” Hep said to Robert.