Burn Cards Page 6

  Several men huddled near a black Chevy truck in the parking lot. I didn’t recognize them but the area wasn’t well lit. The complex was common loitering ground for dealers and drifters alike, so I didn’t know if they were interested solely in me. I didn’t stay to find out. I ran until I was bathed in the light of Lucky Strike. There were too many questions and not enough answers. Why had someone loaned a bum like Doug so much money? Why did they think I could do anything to magically pay them back? One thing was for certain, Doug had gotten in with some bad people. The fact that he hid it wasn’t a surprise as he hid everything from me. Likewise, I held most everything from him. The apple doesn’t fall far from the stubborn tree. But the beatings and the stitches were extreme. Someone had taken pleasure in Doug’s collapse.

  I shelved any thought of finding Doug’s old friends. It had been years since the demise of the weekly card games, and the faces of all his gambling buddies remained nameless. Most had gone by nicknames anyway—’Dallas,’ or ‘Sunny’, who always wore aviator sunglasses.

  I tried to unravel the puzzle on the walk back to the diner. The place was open 24 hours a day. Joe would likely still be on the clock, and I could get a free cup of coffee and space to think. I needed money and I didn’t have any way of getting it. Jazmín didn’t even have cash on hand. She still worked every day and never took vacations. The salon didn’t pull in the kind of money that made the owner wealthy.

  My plan to take the long winding route through the side streets that circled back downtown was quickly thwarted by the cold. Gusts of sub-forty wind cut through my coat as soon as I left the complex and cleared the Lucky Strike. Typical Reno weather, a blast of heat during the day, followed by a quick drop at night. I should have toughed it out, but I caved to my cold hands, picking up the pace and sticking to the crunchy grass of South Virginia. My mistake.

  A couple in a white Mercedes blazed past toward downtown. The driver slammed on the brakes, shifted into reverse and backed down the highway toward me. A small SUV blared its horn and swerved out of the way, nearly clipping the rear of the Mercedes. My feet stuck to the shoulder in cement boots. I felt naked, exposed on the side of the road. Traffic continued to speed by, shouted curses lost in the wind. The driver of the Mercedes honked twice and pulled alongside. Techno music thumped inside the tinted windows, bass rattling loose fiberglass. The driver cut the noise and lowered the passenger side window.

  “Mirna!”

  Nicole and Antonio. What. The. Fuck.

  “What are you doing outside this late, girl? You having fun without me?” Nicole’s eyes seemed to glow in the dark. She beckoned me over, but I stood in place, alone like the last kid to be picked at recess. Her lips scrunched into a frown. “What happened to your face?”

  Before I could turn away, they rattled at me on full-auto, coming to a conclusion before I could get a word in. A boyfriend had struck me—no, Doug had done it. I didn’t date boys. She doesn’t date boys? News to me. If it was Doug, they’d both kill him. I spared them the news that he was dead. An ex, they’d rough him up. Either way, I had to get in the car.

  “Let’s forget all this trouble. Come on, hop in before you get us all killed,” Antonio said. He’d put on his emergency flashers, but cars were still screaming by within inches of the vehicle. It was only a matter of time before one of the drivers didn’t pay attention until it was too late.

  The heat from the car oozed out, tickling my numb fingers. I took a deep breath and glanced around. In the glare of the Lucky Strike, I thought I glimpsed the ghost of a Chevy truck, black tinted windows waiting to follow, carrying a crew of unknowns. I don’t know what I saw. Maybe I was just looking for an excuse to get in the car, and in the end, that’s what I did.

  I’ve made a lot of poor decisions in life. But they were one-offs, decisions that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Now, in one evening, I’d managed to tell my only friend to fuck off, murder Doug and was about to embark on a one-way party ticket with a scumbag predator who’d been one of Doug’s personal bankers. And someone was looking to kill me if I didn’t come up with some serious cash. I’d signed up for a crash course in digging my own grave.

  I opened the door with my sleeve and climbed into the back seat of the Mercedes. Nicole whooped and we sped off toward downtown Reno.

  The clock on the dash blinked 11:30 P.M. but it felt like four in the morning and I hadn’t slept for days. The car reeked of teenage cologne and hair spray. Nicole had done some serious work on her hair after leaving the salon. It exploded in all directions like wild vines trying to take over the front seat. We sped past revelers out in the streets, huddled in pairs, their light clothing and beer jackets no match for the chill as they milled back and forth from bar to casino to club. Tourists were always unprepared for the cold. Seventy feels like thirty when the sun dips and the temperature drops from ninety-five. In the three years since moving closer to the city I’d gotten used to the drunken buffoons who flitted about, offering money for sex or whatever pleasure suited their needs. I hate the main street because the bullshit reminds me of the bad times, but it’s the safest part of town late at night.

  We turned down Robinson Ave, the gateway up ahead. “Reno, the biggest little city in the world.” Story goes someone got paid one hundred bucks to construct it back in the 1920s. I had a poster of the street from the 1930s up on the wall in my room. Black Ford Model T’s line each side of the road made of packed dirt. The arch glows in blurred neon with two torches lit by a pattern of dozens of light bulbs above. You can make out signs CLUB and CAFE but the rest of the signage is lost in a haze. It wasn’t much of a gateway now since the city had expanded around it, growing to the point where you’d only see it if you made a point to. But that was a different time in a different neighborhood that’s now a slum strewn with drugs and broken bottles. The modern Reno behind the new arch ahead of us had screamed VEGAS until it vomited color all over the hotels and casinos, each receiving the remains of a different neon meal. The torches were replaced by a giant RENO lit up in red surrounded by hundreds of light bulbs and topped with a spiked ball that made me think of New Year’s Eve.

  Antonio cut around pedestrians, tapping the brakes and gunning the engine. I felt like I was going to get sick.

  “Sky Casino?” asked Antonio.

  “Carnival!” screamed Nicole. I was right on the edge, the taste of bile in my mouth.

  “Carnival it is, my dear,” Antonio said.

  Clowns, I thought. The night couldn’t get any any worse.

  9

  I braced an arm against the door and a foot against the center console as Antonio threw the Mercedes into high gear and roared down South Virginia, burying me into the leather seat. The sights and sounds of the city became a blur as he whipped around taxis, cutting off would-be jaywalkers. I couldn’t tell if he was putting on a show or if this was how he usually drove. Nicole squealed with delight. If the car had had a moon roof, she would have been standing up with her torso outside, seeking the attention of the crowds as we passed. I tried the window to get some air but it wouldn’t move. Child locks. I held on. A gigantic white and pink neon clown appeared out of nowhere on the left, just past Red Estate Casino. He towered above us, juggling two spinning neon signs. The look on his face a mix of anticipation, sorrow and surprise—a reflection of my own.

  “The Clown!” yelled Nicole, cackling hysterically. Antonio slammed on the brakes, down-shifted and made a screeching left onto Fifth, almost drifting into the red and white base of the towering figure, followed by a right onto Sierra. His tires squealed and the rear of the car fishtailed as we sped beneath the Red Estate elevated walkway. Nicole stretched her head out the window and whooped at a group of young men. I slid down in the back, concentrating on keeping the drinks in place in my stomach. I took a deep breath as the night air rushed through the car. It smelled of candy, smoke and popcorn. Antonio slowed the car down as we entered the overpass between Macanudo and Carnival. On our right appear
ed the red and white stripes of the famous casino.

  The sidewalk outside Carnival was packed with people, body to body in a maze of red and gold roped-off walkways. “They’re waiting to check out the new addition,” Nicole said, turning around in her seat, as if reading my mind.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Masquerade,” she said. “I hear it’s quite the trip.” Her smile wicked, her pupils small, half their normal size. She stared at me like her next meal. She smiled, abruptly whipped back around to watch the crowds. Part of me wanted whatever she was having. To crawl into a ball in a dark corner of my mind and forget. I needed a smoke. Antonio slowed the car near a small white podium marked valet. He killed the engine, got out and met a young man with premature gray hair and six studs in his left ear. They exchanged words and Antonio passed him a few bills. Nicole followed him out. I tried the door and found it locked. Child locks, again. I knocked on the window and Antonio hopped back to the car.

  “My apologies, Mirna,” Antonio said, after he opened the door with a bow. “Safety first. I never know who I might be driving around.”

  “Kidnapped underage strippers?” I shot back.

  He put his palm across his chest, feigning sorrow. “You hurt me, Mirna. I would never.” He put an arm around both Nicole and my shoulders and walked between us down the side of the casino. The line was so spread out that we had to walk in the street. Women stalked the edge of the line with trays of multicolor shots around their necks. Their outfits skintight, black and dark teal with checkered, diamond and striped patterns. No two the same. One had a diamond painted around her left eye. Another with paint around her mouth like a clown that glittered. Sinister and inviting at the same time. We passed them and continued up toward the entrance.

  “You can just cut in at the front?” I asked.

  Antonio shushed me. “Not exactly. Let’s just continue walking this way and act like we are having a wonderful time.”

  “Tony knows all the tricks,” Nicole added.

  I know that all too well.

  Antonio and Nicole looked like they’d been friends for years but in reality had just met on the street outside the salon. Nicole’s act was good from afar, but up close you could tell she was in it for something. She had an end game in mind. I dug through my bag for a cigarette, pulling out the crumpled pack. Empty.

  “That’s a terrible habit, you know,” Antonio said. He removed his arm from my shoulder, slipped a hand into the breast pocket of his jacket and produced a silver cigarette case.

  “Here,” he said, offering. “Got a light?”

  We paused, huddling to block the wind while I shared my lighter.

  “Gross, you guys,” Nicole waved away the smoke. My throat was so dry it felt like it might catch fire. But it helped to calm my nerves.

  Small pendant flags on the top of the casino whipped about in the breeze. The stripes of the carnival tent had seen better days, the white more of a sepia-tone yellow and the red, which used to be bright, had turned to a dark crimson. Dark crimson bathwater.

  We passed the front of the line and continued around the rear of the building, making a turn into a loading dock area. The brightness of the city replaced by two dim hanging lights above a beaten door. Three men, clothed in drab grays and browns, stood hunched in a huddle surrounded by a cloud of smoke. They looked like they worked maintenance. Then they turned to us as we reached the stairs next to the platform and I saw their faces. Clowns.

  “Oh my god, you guys,” Nicole said, jumping between the three men. “Your makeup is amazing.” She couldn’t see the details with her drugged eyes. Two looked like they hadn’t shaved in days, their stubble poking through the white clown makeup like bad acne. One was bald or balding and the makeup had smeared on the top of his head and forehead where he had been sweating. They reeked of harsh booze and cheap cigars, and made no attempt to hide the paperbag-covered bottles gripped in their sweaty hands. They looked more like something out of a carnival of horrors. I shuddered and placed a hand on Antonio’s back, pushing him forward to the door. Antonio opened the door to a dark hallway.

  “Alright, Nic, time to go now,” he said, beckoning her inside. “Tell the fine gentlemen you’ll see them later.”

  Nicole twirled away, following behind us through the door. None of the clowns batted an eye at us entering through the side. Maybe it was Nicole. Maybe they just didn’t care.

  The hallway was long and dark, the only light the outline of the far door on the other side and the dim neon green of a card reader alongside. It smelled of rotten garbage and my shoes stuck to the floor every few steps. The sounds of the casino increased as we neared the door. Antonio swiped a card and punched in a four digit code.

  “I’m owed a few favors,” he said, turning the door handle. “After you.”

  The light of the main casino floor was so bright that I almost stumbled on my first step through the door. We entered into a sea of slot machines, zig-zagging out to the right and left. Every few seconds a new pull or tap and spin of the slots could be heard. Despite a childhood immersed in gambling, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been in a legitimate casino. It was either cigar-soaked bars where men sat cramped, shoulder to shoulder in a windowless room wearing suit coats that looked like they’d been slept in, blowing someone else’s money betting on sports or poker with a deck of stained cards, or the weekly poker games, shifting venue each week to a place where the friend had enough cash to scrape together a couple of pizzas and a case of cheap beer.

  Doug did his best to avoid the gambling dens early on. He said the games were rigged in favor of the house and it was guaranteed one of the players would stumble out each night a dead man. Maybe he just saw too much of himself in those poor saps and it pained him to share the same air. I’d like to think this was some sort of self-preservation, but in the end his addictions got the best of him and our family. Which is the reason I stayed away from the bright lights and flashing jackpots. I know somewhere inside rests the stubborn risk taker who’s ready to put it all on the line for a chance to get rich tonight. Not tomorrow because I might not be around to enjoy it. Every pull of a slot, every shuffle of a deck tugs at this nerve. I grin and take in the aura of losers surrounding us.

  My previous impression of Carnival was that it was the place tourists brought their kids to be entertained while they gambled away their trust funds. Pictures in ads presented the casino as bright and exciting, a place for all ages. But like a traveling circus troupe at the end of their cross-country tour, Carnival looked old and worn down. Once I got past the initial shock of the light and sound, all I saw were worry lines and stained carpeting. All we were missing were the off-duty clowns to make it a retirement home for fun. And with all that, the place was still packed with tourists and stale sweat.

  I passed a few rows of slots and then turned back. Antonio shut the door and Nicole already had a drink in her hand. Antonio wrapped an arm around her, pulling her forward into the maze. I followed with a cup of water, downing it in big gulps. It did more to clear my head than the cigarette.

  “Time to get our dance on,” Nicole slammed her empty plastic cup down on the top of a slot occupied by a thin woman in a flowery dress who barely looked up. Nicole turned, grabbed Antonio’s hand and spun herself.

  “Just a minute, Nic,” Antonio said, ignoring Nicole’s sudden exaggerated frown. “I’ve got to catch up with someone.” He pulled out his wallet. “I’ll just be five, ten minutes tops.” He handed us each a one hundred dollar bill and told us to make it last. Then he was off, his white suit blending into the reds and whites of the casino floor. Nicole beamed, clapping her hands. I’d been bought off way too many times in my life to care about or appreciate the gesture. I wondered what it felt like to pull one hundred dollar bills out of your wallet and pass them around.

  “What do you want—”

  “Roulette!” she shouted, grabbing my hand and ripping me into the crowds. We fought our way throug
h the casino, eventually landing at a twenty dollar minimum table with space to squeeze in a couple of more players. We cashed in the bills for five purple chips each. Nicole immediately threw all five right on black. I held onto mine and watched it spin, mesmerized by the colors. I needed more water. I grabbed another glass off of a nearby cart. That’s when I heard the soft thudding base and saw the darkness in the back of the casino.

  The rear of the casino seemed to be absorbed by darkness, like a strange power outage only affecting part of the building, replacing it with the night sky. The Masquerade.

  Lights winked in and out, around the border of the club, like a cancerous growth slowly taking over the bright casino. Nicole let out a holler. No matter how much I dreaded the thought, I had to get Antonio alone. I needed to ask him about Doug’s debts and who he might have been involved with and I didn’t want Nicole to know any more about Doug than she already did. She’d bring the juicy news to Jazmín and I didn’t want her putting her own spin on my story. It was salacious enough already. But as long as Nicole was standing, the party had only just begun.

  “Alright, let’s do this!” She said over the crowd. Her personality had taken over the table. Two more spins and Antonio was back.

  “How’d you two do?” Antonio said putting his head between us.

  Nicole jumped. “I won,” she said, giving him a big kiss on the cheek.

  “And you, Mirna?”

  Nicole answered for me through a frown. “She didn’t even play.”

  “I couldn’t decide what to place my chips on,” I said, holding them out.

  He laughed like this had all happened before. “No problem. You keep them for next time.”

  Yes, daddy. I put the chips into my purse.

  “Shall we?” asked Antonio. Nicole grabbed his arm and we walked toward the dark part of the casino, toward the Masquerade.