Winning Texas (18 page)

The Albanians erupted into raucous laughter and Zogu felt the stirrings of alarm. Who
’
d told them he
’
d find them husbands? Was that really part of his responsibility? Then he reflected on the single men he knew and decided not to worry. They might indeed be interested in meeting at least some of these girls.

“
Tell us about the American clubs,
”
Edona said when the cheering died down.

“
Some are very beautiful places, with big mirrors, fine liquors and elegant stages for you to dance on and show off your beauty,
”
Zogu said. That was stretching it, for they
’
d probably go to the older, redneck clubs. He decided he
’
d better draw the question-and-answer period to an end.

“
You must try to become your most beautiful self by the time we take you there,
”
he said.
“
Rest up, watch the American TV and swim in the pool. But stay in the motel rooms. Remember that you don
’
t have documents yet. The fat policemen would kick you with their sharp cowboy boots and throw you in their jail.
”

The Albanians looked properly chastened, but Zogu worried that they could turn mutinous after he left.

“
For how long?
”
Leka asked, looking crestfallen.

“
Just a week or two.
”

CHAPTER 17

Nate Hardin nursed a Dos Equis at his table in Ninfa
’
s on Navigation, his favorite caf
é
in a funky industrial neighborhood east of downtown. He liked being early for social engagements, enjoying the ambience of a busy place and thinking about the evening ahead. It was Saturday night and he and his best friend, fellow
Times
reporter Travis Dunbar, were meeting for a quick Tex-Mex dinner, as they often did. But tonight was special. Travis was bringing his poker-playing girlfriend and Nate was eager to meet the woman his friend had been keeping under wraps.

He loved Ninfa
’
s with its famed Ninfaritas (impossibly strong margaritas), its cilantro-laced green salsa and sizzling meats. He
’
d seen pictures of the chubby-cheeked Mama Ninfa Laurenzo, who
’
d founded the restaurant a half-century ago, as an outgrowth of her struggling tortilla factory. The cafe had become the founding outlet in a popular chain of Mexican restaurants in the 1980s before the enterprise changed hands. But the original Ninfa
’
s near the Ship Channel remained and its clientele still gathered for Tacos al Carbon. He enjoyed a few moments of high-level people watching, especially the romantic intrigues at the crowded bar, as he waited for Travis and the mystery woman.

He sopped up the last warm chips from a basket into the peppy green sauce and signaled the waiter for a fresh basket. He could eat his weight in chips, but was a dedicated enough runner that it didn
’
t show on his lanky frame. He checked messages on his iPhone and finally spotted Travis heading toward the table hand-in-hand with his woman.

He was a little surprised. Lila Jo Lemmons looked at least ten years older than Travis, even with reddish-magenta hair curling toward her shoulders. She wore a black skirt with a green jacket, a bejeweled sunburst necklace and red cowboy boots. She and Travis were both short and squat, but Nate thought they looked good together. Her brown eyes were warm in a face that, like most Texas women of a certain age, was heavily made up. Nate stood up and extended his hand. Lila Jo gripped it with a surprising strength.

“
Hey, Nate. Glad to finally meet you,
”
she said in a slow, pleasant drawl that sounded to Nate like East Texas, possibly Tyler or Nacogdoches. The young Hispanic waiter brought more beers and they munched on chips and salsa.

Soon Nate was laughing at Lila Jo
’
s salty real estate stories about a Houston barge owner who paid cash-in-hand for a drug lord
’
s abandoned mansion, but was shocked by the variety of sex toys he
’
d found in the master bedroom
’
s closet.

“
Honey, I could fix you up with a nice two-bed not far from downtown if you have $7,000 for a down payment,
”
she told Nate.

“
I don
’
t know, Lila Jo,
”
he said.
“
Not sure I
’
m ready to tie myself to Houston yet. How about you, Trav?
”

He was sorry he brought it up as Travis squirmed uncomfortably.

“
I
’
m a bit financially challenged at the moment, I
’
m afraid. Got to start winning at poker again.
”

“
Baby, your luck will change,
”
Lila Jo said, putting her hand over Travis
’
s chubby mitt.

Conversation slowed as they focused on the steaming plates. Nate polished off a plate of green chicken enchiladas, mopping up the last of the sauce with a flour tortilla as he listened to Travis rant about the downfall of the newspaper industry and the dark fate of the
Houston Times
.

He and Travis had been inseparable since Annie Price hired Nate a year ago, luring him to Houston from a paid internship in the newsroom of the
Corpus Christi Post
. He
’
d been thrilled to leave Corpus, which had a scenic waterfront with beautiful homes for the wealthy but offered few opportunities for young people, especially cub journalists. He
’
d worried about what he
’
d do when the newsroom stint ended, but luckily didn
’
t have to face the ignominy of returning to Waco to live with his parents. Annie had seen some of his stories on the Associated Press wire and had actually called him for an interview. Nate at twenty-five was the youngest reporter on the
Times
staff and the last person hired before the freeze imposed by the newspaper
’
s struggling owner.

Nate
’
s attention wandered as Travis bemoaned the paper
’
s inability to seduce Houston
’
s privileged army of white-collar workers into subscribing to the
Times
. Some of the city
’
s well-heeled downtown workers read the paper, but the younger they were, the greater the odds against their subscribing. Circulation of the paper continued to sink like a rock, especially among workers in their twenties and thirties. The
Times
did a lot of newsroom brainstorming about improving the website to make it irresistible to young people, but clearly the middle-aged editors leading the effort hadn
’
t come up with the magic formula. Those older print fossils didn
’
t understand websites and likely just wished they
’
d go away, Travis said.

Nate, bored with the subject, agreed that falling readership showed a regrettable lack of civic curiosity among the city
’
s young workers, but what were the reporters going to do? Force people to buy the paper instead of trolling free entertainment sites on iPhones as they sipped their morning lattes? At least some would check out the headlines online.

Lila Jo, who
’
d eaten a plateful of steak fajitas with big dollops of guacamole, paused to speak.

“
Sweetie, the daily paper
’
s all but dead. Your folks need to figure out how to make the website a lot more fun. What do you think, Nate?
”

“
I
’
m afraid I have to agree,
”
he said.
“
When I was at Baylor just a few years back, I was shocked at how few people read the college paper.
”

“
Well, that
’
s Baylor for you. They just read the Bible,
”
Travis cracked, referring to the university
’
s Baptist origins.

Nate looked at his iPhone and saw it was close to 10 p.m. The Saturday-night crowd crackled with alcohol and rising hormones, and the vibe was happy, but Nate was ready to move on. He
’
d been hanging out at the Texas Girls clubs a few nights a week, trying to figure out what made Kyle Krause and his strip club business tick. He was gathering intelligence on Krause for the profile he planned to write. Soaking up the ambience of the clubs had been an education and he
’
d made plenty of valuable contacts. In the last few weeks, he
’
d talked to strippers, bar employees and club patrons, but Krause was still eluding him.

His attention drifted back to Travis, who
’
d moved into the familiar territory of dissecting newsroom machinations. Both reporters knew that their colleague Maggie Mahaffey had resigned and that the loss of a reporter meant that Annie would take on some reporting duties.

“
What
’
s Annie saying about that?
”
Nate asked, knowing that Travis had more of a relationship with their boss
–
strictly professional, of course
–
than he did.

“
She wants me to take over Maggie
’
s reporting on the German-Texas movement. She may team up with me,
”
Travis said with an air of importance.

“
Now that will be a hardship. I know you can hardly stand the thought of working closely with her,
”
Nate said. Travis
’
s worshipful attitude toward Annie was a running joke.

“
I
’
m dying to meet Annie,
”
Lila Jo said.
“
She sounds like my kind of gal. Speaking of women, look at those two blondes at the bar
–
they
’
re staring at you, Nate. You should go over and say howdy.
”

“
Uh, thanks, Lila Jo, but I
’
m not interested.
”

She clapped her hand over her mouth and patted Nate on the shoulder.

“
Sorry, honey. I forgot. How about that cute waiter? Bet he could use a friend.
”

“
Appreciate it, but I
’
m headed over to another of the Texas Girls clubs. Going to check out the one on the Gulf Freeway.
”

“
Are you still stalking Kyle Krause?
”
Travis said.

“
Kind of. Just haven
’
t been to that location yet.
”

“
Hey, I know Krause,
”
Lila Jo said.
“
Sold him a condo. Is he in any kind of trouble?
”

“
He
’
s into everything
–
strip clubs, gambling and maybe even prostitution,
”
Nate said.
“
He
’
ll be a big story for us before long.
”

He felt gratified at the shocked look on Lila Jo
’
s face. Part of the delight of being a reporter was finding out things other people didn
’
t know and dribbling out the juicy bits.

“
Well, get a life,
”
Travis said.
“
You
’
re off-duty tonight, remember?
”

“
Trav, you know a good reporter is never off-duty,
”
Nate said, only half-joking.

“
You
’
ll get over that in a few years, dude.
”

CHAPTER 18

Nate parked his dirty blue Toyota pickup in a crumbling and poorly lit parking area behind the Texas Girls Club. There wasn
’
t room in the front because it was prime time for the bar crowd. The Korean nail salon had closed hours ago and the Vietnamese caf
é
was winding up its business, but Texas Girls and two other bars in the dingy-looking strip center off the freeway were hopping. He saw one tipsy young couple and three middle-aged men headed drunkenly toward the door of the strip club. He knew that this Texas Girls location was Krause
’
s first, and rumored to be his favorite, so he hoped to spot him there on the biggest night of the week. He didn
’
t see Krause
’
s Porsche, but he knew the owner drove several different vehicles and also used a chauffeur. He
’
d heard that a decent local rock band, Hands on Deck, might play at the club tonight and he was looking forward to hearing it.