Temptation Town Read Free Page B

see he treasured that scene.
    "I
hope I didn't come at the wrong time, you know, I don't want to ruin the movie
for you."
    "Ah-h,
don't worry about it. I've seen it a hundred times. You ever seen it?"
    I shook
my head.
    "Jack,
man, these old movies are like nothing else. They reveal a side of America
that's lost forever."
    "What,
Jimmy Cagney getting killed?"
    "No,
not that. It's all of them put together. The big picture." His faded blue
eyes grew intense, and his voice rose to the occasion. "You watch these
movies and you slowly realize what this country was like back then. The way the
scripts were written. The way the scenes were constructed. The way the actors
spoke. It all fit together somehow. It painted a picture of our values and our
morals of that era. Now … well, let's just say it can never be the same. We've
lost a … a piece of our cultural soul. Something irretrievable."
    I blinked
at his articulate description. I'd never before heard him speak at that level.
    "Beer?"
he asked.
    "Sure.
Thanks."
    He
hustled over to the kitchenette, where he pulled two cans out of the small
fridge. He popped both tops and handed me one. Even though it was a little
early for a beer, it tasted good going down.
    We passed
a little more small talk. Then he shifted in his chair, settling into listening
position. "So … what's on your mind, man?"
    He took a
long pull from his beer, as I set mine down on the floor. I reached into my
jacket for a copy of Las Vegas
Weekly , opening it to Emily
Lansdorf's picture.
    "How
do I get hold of these people?"
    He
shrugged. "Call the number. They'll fix you up."
    "No,
no. I don't want a date. I want to get to whoever runs the operation."
    "Oh-h-hh,"
he said. He took another drink, then let out a light burp. "I don't know
who runs that particular one, but if it's not Sonny Beck, he'll damn sure know
who it is."
    "Who's
Sonny Beck?"
    "He
operates a lot of these escort services here in town. Point man for the mob.
Came here from, I think, New Orleans eight or ten years ago."
    "Can
I get to him?"
    "Depends
on what you mean by 'get to him'."
    "I
just need to talk to him is all." I picked up my beer for another slow,
smooth sip.
    "Man,
you know, I'm not his social secretary."
    "I
know, I know," I said. "But where do you think I might find him? Come
on, Ronnie. It's important."
    I reached
into my pocket for my money clip. I peeled off one of Lansdorf's benjamins,
handing it to him.
    He stuck
it in his shirt pocket. "You might try the Golden Nugget sports book on
Sundays. I can't guarantee you'll find him there, but I've driven him there a
time or two at the beginning of my shift. He likes to bet pro football."
    "How
will I know him? What's he look like?"
    Ronnie
polished off the last of his beer, then crumpled the can.
    "He's
crowding fifty. About five-ten with dark brown hair. Big-shouldered, husky kind
of a guy. Smokes cigars, probably Cuban."
    I took
one more swallow of beer before I put the can down. It was only about half-finished.
    "Thanks,
man. I've got to get going." I shook his hand.
    We stood
up and walked to the door. I was careful not to step on any of his DVDs.
    "Jack,"
he said with his hand on my shoulder. "Be careful. Beck's a very tough
guy. And he's got even tougher guys backing him up. You can't get out of line
with him."
    "Don't
worry, Ronnie. I'll watch myself. And thanks."

 
    ≈≈≈

 
    That night, I called the number of the escort service. I said I wanted
the girl whose picture was in the ad I saw in the magazine. By the way, what
was her name, I asked. Stormy, they said. She wasn't currently available, but
they'd be happy to send someone just like her. Someone who would take care of
me just as well. I said, no, I really wanted that cute blonde in the ad,
Stormy. They told me she was out of town for a week or so, flown to the Middle
East by some rich Arab who had to have her.
    Right.
Like these rich Arabs get their girls from tawdry ads in the back pages of
alternative