Jack Wakes Up (22 page)

“Fuck,” Jack says. “So Tony Vitelli wanted to set up a new business for himself and he had his own supply? Someone must have been getting him the coke to sell at The Coast. Junius?”

Maxine shakes her head. “That I don’t know.”

“OK though.” Jack starts getting out of bed and putting his pants on. “OK.”

Maxine puts down a maki with her chopsticks. “Where are you going?”

“I think it’s time I go talk to the man: Tony Vitelli.”

Jack calls Niki to come pick him up: he’s ready to leave the Mustang behind for a while, let it rest out of harm’s way. Niki agrees, but says he’ll have to bring the others too: coked up in the hotel room, they’re all too ready to go out, which they figure may as well be finding Tony Vitelli, regardless of where he is or how he’ll receive them, as long as it gets them out into the night. Jack tries to convince him to leave Al and David behind; he doesn’t want any more of Al’s recklessness and gun-toting bravado, but Niki says that won’t happen. He puts Vlade on the phone, and Vlade says they’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Maxine calls The Coast, asking if Tony’s there, and the manager won’t tell her anything.

But when she calls the dancers’ changing room, one of them tells her that Tony’s at The Mirage tonight, taking care of some business, she says.

Jack’s not sure if this is supposed to mean dealing, fucking someone up, or just watching the club. He wonders where the club kids get their ecstasy, whether Tony’s got his hand in that as well. And why wouldn’t he? It’s as good a business as any other, probably better than coke even, a definite line to some hard cash. He wonders how many people Tony has dealing under him.

While he’s waiting for Niki to show, Jack and Maxine share a cigarette in her living room. “I don’t want to come,” she says. “But I will if you want me to.”

“No.” Jack touches her leg through her robe. “You just stay here and get some rest. With any luck, I’ll come pick you up in the morning and we’ll head up to my place to get some breakfast.”

She puts her arms around Jack. “Or we’ll just stay here and you can get into the bed with me.”

Jack has to admit it: “That sounds pretty nice. When this shit is over, I’ll be ready for a few days in that bed.” He starts thinking about the scene ahead of him at The Mirage, what that’ll be like, and it’s stuck in his head about Junius: whether he was Tony’s supply or if Tony went outside of him too.

In the car, after Niki’s buzzed up and Jack has kissed Maxine goodbye, he’s still thinking about whether Junius would turn over Ralph and start supplying to Tony. But he doesn’t see why Junius would turn over his own man, even if he and Ralph weren’t that close.

“Hey Jack,” Vlade shouts from the back seat. “We can fuck up these guys tonight!”

“It’s OK, man. I can hear now.”

Then Vlade leans forward. Without shouting, he says, “Yes. I know. We can do this.”

Jack looks at Niki, who shrugs and smiles. “He talks like this way when he is high.” Vlade says something in Czech, and Niki laughs. “He says to don’t fuck with him or he’ll kill us all.”

“Right,” Jack says. “I believe it.”

The Czechs have insisted on playing loud techno music in the Escalade—so they’ll be ready for the club when they get there, or because they’re in that kind of mindset, Jack doesn’t know.

It’s loud and he wants to be back with Maxine, in bed, but after a little while the music starts to pick him up and help him feel ready for the task at hand.

“Pull over up here,” he tells Niki. “I need a coffee.”

Outside the SUV, Jack gets his phone and tries Junius at the number on the card. He stands under the bright fluorescents of a gas station, heading inside to buy coffee. The Man picks up on the seventh ring. Jack can hear loud pumping music in the background, barely understands Junius when he says, “Who this?”

“Junius. This is Jack Palms. I got to talk with you.”

“Where you at?” he shouts.

“I’m on my way to The Mirage.”

Junius laughs. “That’s good. Because I’m already here.”

“You dealing through Tony?”

“What you say?” On the other end of the phone, it sounds like the music just got louder.

“I asked if you’re his supply?”

“You better come here, brother.”

Jack says he will, but Junius has already hung up. He makes his coffee strong and black, no milk or sugar. As he’s paying for it, Jack thinks over Junius’ call from Tony, and the fact that he’s already at the club. He hopes he isn’t walking into a mess. Maybe it’ll turn out better to have Al and Vlade around, he considers, though he hopes he won’t need their guns. Whatever the situation may look like, getting caught in the middle of a gun fight is not something Jack wants to go through again.

When they show up at The Mirage, Jack’s already finished his large coffee and he’s still miles behind the Czechs. They’re talking and gesturing wildly with their hands; Vlade and David seeming to be concerned with calming Al down. Jack figures Vlade and Niki are packing guns, but he doesn’t push to ask them, just hopes they’ll get into the club. For that matter, he’s hoping he’ll get into the club without having to walk over Tony’s bouncers. Not that that wouldn’t be a pleasure.

But at the front entrance, the security seems happy to see him; it’s the same guy he’s seen there before, the one who likes his movie. He says, “Jack Palms, man. You’re starting to be a regular around here,” and opens the ropes for Jack and the Czechs right away. “Where’s that girl you were with last night? She was smoking.”

Jack shrugs. “At home.”

“All right, player,” the bouncer says, hitting Jack on the arm. “Ready for somebody new?”

Jack looks at the guy and at the line to get in through the regular, non-V.I.P. entrance: it’s twice as long as it had been last night, at least. “What’s going on here tonight?” he asks the doorman.

The guy smiles wide. “People like the action, my man. Heard we might stay closed tonight after that shit getting out on the news, but turns out people wanted to come out more because of 190

what went down last night.” He shrugs. “I guess they read it in the papers and wanted to say they been here. You’re back. What’s your excuse?”

“Go figure,” Jack says. “And I thought the place had just gotten shot up.”

“Yeah,” the guy says. “That’s the whole thing of it, man. That shit be cool now!”

Jack sees Vlade look funny at one of the bouncers on the side, a white guy who’s wearing a thick gray sweater, not the cool-looking black stretch shirts or leather jackets the others have on.

He’s bald, his head fresh-bic’ed, like the shooter from last night, but he has a thick brown beard, overgrown, as if he’s been living in some place cold and trying to cover his skin. He seems disinterested, but looks in their direction, clearly noticing Vlade and his friends.

As he and the Czechs make their way through the velvet ropes, Jack turns to one of the other bouncers, a short guy with an earpiece attached to his head. “How’d you guys get this place ready to open again after last night?” Jack asks him.

He looks at Jack like Jack’s just done something wrong, points inside with his finger like he’s showing him the way to go, as if it wasn’t abundantly clear already. He shakes his head.

Inside, Jack asks the girl at the register the same question. She lifts her shoulders. “I been wondering that myself. Somebody must have some good connections and pull with the boys downtown.”

“That and some fast contractors,” Jack says.

She shakes her head. “Most of it’s not even fixed yet. They just put up plastic over the broken glass. People love that shit!”

“Right,” Jack says, and he thinks about his own connections on the force, wonders whether Sgt. Hopkins would want to know where he is. “There’s no way they’d come bust this place two

nights in a row, right?”

The girl laughs. She smiles while she takes a handful of twenties from the Czechs, and then points them through a set of velvet curtains.

“That better not be coming out of my cut,” Jack jokes.

“Oh, no,” David says. “We have for you at the hotel.”

Jack nods. “Good.” He wants to call Hopkins, find out for sure that there’s not going to be any bust here tonight, but he can’t try making a call now that they’re inside. It’s just too loud.

They’re coming out into the big dance room. It looks a lot like it did last night—kids and glow sticks, a very similar brand of deafening music, a few people dancing above the crowd on high platforms, the area above them on the balcony level—but now it seems twice as crowded and the people look like knock-off copies of the previous clubbers: as if this set wants to be the ones who were here last night, the people they’ve just read about in the newspaper, and they’re trying their hardest to fit what they imagine those people to be. But with only a day to get their shit together, they look just slightly out of touch, a little behind the others. Jack can see it in their pants fitting a little tighter, their sneakers somehow not looking as fresh; fewer people are dancing. Jack’s not much of a connoisseur of these things, but the extra effort shows around the edges, even to the eyes of someone as out of touch as he’s become.

Another difference is that now the music has to compete with Jack’s other deafness and it seems less loud. There’s definitely something less infecting about tonight’s beats.

Vlade comes up close to Jack and pulls his shoulder down to speak into his ear, “That man outside. The one who looks different is K.G.B.”

“You sure?”

“I am sure. He is K.G.B.”

“What’s that mean?”

Vlade shakes his head. “I don’t know. But I guess it is bad.”

“Nice.” Jack walks back out through the entrance and to the girl who took their money.

Here the music is less encompassing, quiet enough that he can ask her, “Where can I find Tony Vitelli?”

She shakes her head. “Tony’s around. I seen him tonight. But I can’t say where he’ll be.”

“He’s here though?”

She nods.

“Then I’ll find him.”

Back inside, moving through the tight press of bodies to catch up with the Czechs, Jack looks around: up above them, Junius will probably be on the balcony, and Jack wants to talk with him first to see where he stands in it all.

He looks around for Tony: it’s hard to see the walls of the place because they’re painted black, so with the flashing lights, kids, and the various bars spread around the dance areas, Jack has a hard time seeing the perimeter of the room. But looking for a while, he makes out the few guys stationed here and there with wires in their ears—these are the security. They look far more serious than the bouncers outside, other than the asshole who would only point Jack in one direction. These guys aren’t dressed for the chill air or for clubbing. They wear black, which makes them even harder to see, but they’re there when you look hard enough. Jack counts five.

He starts to make his way toward the balcony with the Czechs. Up above he can already see how some of the walls are covered with plastic sheets where the mirrors used to be. “You don’t think they’d bust this place two nights in a row, do you?” Jack asks Niki. “That’d have to be bad for business.”

Niki doesn’t respond, but Jack is starting to believe in people thinking it’s cool to be at a club that just got busted. For them it’s a major change from the ordinary, the standard weekend and then going back to work on Monday. But for him it’s not cool, more of last night’s mess, and to be on the safe side, Jack takes his cell phone out of his pocket and tries to work the text message feature. It’s not something he’s familiar with—why he would use it other than when he’s in a loud club, he’s not sure—but with a few attempts he manages to find Mills’ message from last night and then the option to reply. He writes in just one word, Mirage, and hits send.

They make their way around the outside of the room and to the ramp up to the second level, Vlade and Niki just behind Jack, David and Al hanging back, scoping out the scene, David even dancing a little. Al talks to himself, gesturing in several directions at once, looking like 193

he’s trying to decide who he should start a fight with. At the bottom of the ramp, the security’s tightened up: they have more guys now and a list of names for who can go upstairs. But Vlade steps up and gives the man with the list the twenty-dollar handshake when he tells him their names. The guy actually does a passable job of acting like he scans the list, going onto the second sheet before pretending as if he’s found the name of their party and then waving them through. Jack gives the kid credit for that, figures he’s probably an aspiring actor, maybe someone with a little actual talent.

As they start up the ramp, Jack catches a glimpse of Tony: he’s in back of one of the bars on the main floor, listening in on a headset, hard to notice at first because he’s wearing a black suit over a black shirt: the Johnny Cash look. He has a walkie-talkie that he says something into.

Then, from across the room, Jack sees him look their way. Tony sees Jack see him, and the two make eye contact, Tony taking his time to look Jack over, then shaking his head slowly. Jack doesn’t change his expression, just stares at Tony like he knows why he’s here, what they’re both doing. Tony winks.

“Motherfucker,” Jack says, hoping that Tony can read his lips. But Tony’s no longer looking; he says something else into the walkie-talkie and goes through a door behind the bar.

At the top of the ramp, Jack sees Freeman ahead of them, standing close to another bar, the one that got shot to pieces last night. Now, where there were glass shelves along the wall last night there are just clear plastic sheets tacked up and dim light glowing through them. It gives the place a very industrial, not-yet-open-for-business kind of aura, that Jack can guess is very in these days.

The big Samoan would never be hard to spot, regardless of the lighting and his surroundings: he’s almost a foot taller than most of the people around him. Thinking that wherever Freeman is, Junius must be close, Jack heads over. When he gets to the bar, he sees the fancy bottles of liquor stacked in boxes on the floor below the sheets; what used to be top-level is now like somebody selling drinks at a yard sale. But Freeman’s paying big money for a martini and a beer regardless.