Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [71]
“They’re not ready for you in the courtroom,” I told him.
“They weren’t ready for me here either, homeboy. Don’t you worry—I dress different during the day.”
I eased closer to Sidney so that no one could overhear me. He had to lean down to hear what I was saying.
“I have another favor to ask,” I said.
“What you need?”
“There’s a big guy trailing me. Almost as tall as you, bald head, red mustache, heavy into ’roids. Black leather. Looks crazy. If you can’t keep him out, at least stall him.”
“What’s the deal?”
“Don’t ask. Don’t tell.”
“I hear you. Go on in.”
I went through double glass doors with the heavy brass trim, and the music and the lights hit me all at once, like the beginning of a bad trip. The bar in the anteroom was packed three deep, and the bartenders in their white tuxedo shirts and pink bow ties were gliding back and forth like a trio of ice-skaters. The cigarette smoke was so thick it made the ceiling seem much lower than it was. A mixture of perfume and sweat filled the air like the prelude to an orgy, and the women were wearing just enough to keep from getting arrested.
I went through a second set of wide-open glass doors to my left and found myself looking out over a dance floor already packed with people. I fought back a surging wave of claustrophobia and squeezed through the crowd sideways, twisting and turning my body like an eel trying to ease through muck. If I was going to find Vivian in a place like Embers, I would need an aerial view, so I pressed my way toward the stairs that led to the balcony, knowing that Williams would not be far behind.
You would have thought that with all the advances in technology they would have found a replacement for the disco ball, the cyclopean, multifaceted silver ball spinning like a miniature sun over the dance floor, but you would be mistaken. The lights were low; the speakers were throbbing; the dance floor was a quivering fresco of arms and legs, and above it all, the ball turning slowly, strafing the crowd with bars of blue and gold light. The air was so cold it was hard to smell the marijuana, but it was there, hovering, cloying, and sweet, like a red-eyed genie waiting for a wish.
The bouncer at the foot of the stairs there knew me and let me go up to the VIP section, though I could see he wasn’t thrilled with my attire. Upstairs there were ten tables, but only six of them were occupied. No one paid me any attention as I crossed over to where the balcony leaned out over the dance floor like the edge of a cliff. I was standing there peering down into the crowd, completely absorbed in my search for Vivian, when I recognized the man standing against the railing with his back turned to me. I went over and tapped him on the shoulder. It was Nick.
He turned casually enough but when he saw who it was, his head jerked forward and he spit an ice cube out of his mouth. Then he began to cough. I sat on the stool next to him and waited for him to get hold of himself.
“Where’s your sister?” I asked.
Nick jumped a good six inches sideways, but I grabbed him by the arm and jerked him back to earth. He shook himself free.
“Jack! My God! We all thought you were dead!” he said in a loud whisper.
“I almost was, but guess what: Jack is back, and now Jack wants to know why Williams tried to kill me last night while I was doing your father’s dirty work. I’d like to hear your thoughts on that.”
Nick took a nervous puff from his cigarette and leaned closer to me. “This is bad, Jack. We’re all in a lot of trouble. Williams has lost his mind. I’m afraid he’ll kill every one of us. He’s an animal, you know.”
“Where’s Big Daddy? At the house?”
“No, not there. He had to leave. He couldn’t stay there.”
“Why not?”
Nick looked out over the crowd. “My father is in trouble,” he shouted. “Big trouble. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t really want to know either.”
“Williams is on his way here,” I told him. “We don’t have a lot of time to play around. You better tell me what you know fast, before I get nervous