The Last Don - Mario Puzo [105]
Big Tim the Rustler ate in the coffee shop, which was also the restaurant that served plain American fare. Big Tim rarely ate in the Xanadu’s fancy French restaurant or its Northern Italian restaurant or its authentic English Royal Pub restaurant. Five friends joined him for dinner, and Big Tim the Rustler made out Keno tickets for everybody so they could watch the numbers board while eating. Cross and Dante sat in a corner booth.
His short-cut blond hair made the Rustler resemble a Brueghel painting of a jolly German burgher. He ordered a great variety of dishes, the equivalent of three dinners, but to his credit he ate most of them while also dipping into his companions’ plates.
“It’s really too bad,” Dante said. “I never saw a guy who enjoyed life so much.”
“That’s one way to make enemies,” Cross said. “Especially when you enjoy it at other people’s expense.”
They watched Big Tim sign the check, which he did not have to pay, and order one of his companions to tip in cash. After they left, Cross and Dante relaxed over their coffee. Cross loved this huge room with glass walls showing the night lit outside by pink lamps, green from the grass and trees outside reflecting into the room, softening the chandeliers.
“I remember one night about three years ago,” Cross said to Dante. “The Rustler had a great streak at the crap table. I think he won over a hundred grand. It was about three in the morning. And when the pit boss took his chips to the cage, the Rustler jumped up on the crap table and pissed all over it.”
“What did you do?” Dante asked.
“I had the security guards take him to his room and charged him five grand for the piss on the table. Which he never paid.”
“I would have ripped his fucking heart out,” Dante said.
“If a man gives you a half million a year, wouldn’t you let him piss on a table?” Cross said. “But to tell the truth, I always held it against him. In fact, if he had done that in the Villas’ casino, who knows?”
The next day Cross had lunch with Big Tim to brief him on his party and the presentation of the Rolls-Royce. Pippi joined them and was introduced.
Big Tim always pushed for more. “I appreciate the Rolls but when do I get one of your Villas?”
“Yeah, you deserve it,” Cross said. “The next time you come to Vegas, you get a Villa. That’s a promise, even if I have to kick somebody out.”
Big Tim the Rustler said to Pippi, “Your son is a much nicer man than that old prick, Gronevelt.”
“He was a little funny in his last years,” Pippi said. “I was maybe his best friend and he would never give me a Villa.”
“Well, fuck him,” Big Tim said. “Now that your son is running the Hotel, you can get a Villa whenever you want.”
“Never,” Cross said, “he’s not a gambler.” They all laughed.
But now Big Tim was on another tack. “There’s a weird little guy who wears a funny hat and is the worst crapshooter I ever saw,” he said. “This guy signed nearly two hundred grand in markers in less than an hour. What can you tell me about him? You know I’m always looking for investors.”
“I can’t tell you anything about my players,” Cross said. “How would you like it if I gave out information about you? I can tell you he can get a Villa anytime, but he never asks. He likes to keep a low profile.”
“Just give me an intro,” Big Tim said. “If I make a deal, you’ll get a piece.”
“No,” Cross said. “But my father knows him.”
“I could use some dough,” Pippi said.
Big Tim said, “Good. Give me a big buildup.”
Pippi turned on his charm. “You two guys would make a great team. This guy has a lot of money but he doesn’t have your flair for big business. I know you’re a fair guy, Tim, so just give me what you think I deserve.”
Big Tim beamed at this. Pippi would be another of his suckers. “Great,” he said. “I’ll be at the crap table tonight, so bring him around.”
When the introductions were made at the crap table, Big Tim the Rustler startled both Dante and Pippi by snatching Dante’s Renaissance cap off his head and replacing it with a Dodger