The Last Don - Mario Puzo [106]
“To change our luck,” Big Tim said. They all laughed but Pippi didn’t like the malevolent gleam in Dante’s eyes. Also, he was angry that Dante had ignored his instructions and was wearing the hat. He had introduced Dante as Steve Sharpe and had pumped Big Tim up with stories that Steve was the overlord of a drug empire on the Eastern Seaboard and had to “wash” many millions. Also that Steve was a degenerate gambler who had bet a million on the Super Bowl and had lost without batting an eye. And his markers in the casino cage were pure gold. Paid them right up.
So now Big Tim threw his massive arm over Dante’s shoulders and said, “Stevie, we have to talk. Let’s have a little bite in the coffee shop.”
There, Big Tim took a secluded booth. Dante ordered coffee but Big Tim ordered a whole array of desserts: strawberry ice cream, napoleons, and banana cream pie plus a dish of assorted cookies.
Then he launched into an hour-long selling speech. He owned a small mall he wanted to get rid of, a long-term moneymaker, and he could arrange that the payment would be mostly under-the-table cash. There was a meat-packing plant and carloads of fresh produce that could be sold for undercover cash, then resold for a profit for white money. He had an “in” with the movie business so that he could help finance pictures that went direct to video or to porno theaters. “Great business,” Big Tim said. “You get to meet the stars and fuck the starlets and turn your money white.”
Dante enjoyed the performance. Everything Big Tim said was with such confidence and brio that the victim could only believe in future riches. He asked questions that betrayed his eagerness but made a show of coyness.
“Give me your card,” he said. “I’ll give you a call or have Pippi call you and then we can set up a dinner meeting and have a full discussion so I can make a commitment.”
Big Tim gave him his card. “Let’s do it real quick,” he said. “I have one particular ‘no lose’ deal I’ll cut you in on. But we would have to move fast.” He paused for a moment. “It’s a sports thing.”
Now Dante showed an enthusiasm he had not shown before. “Jesus, that has always been my dream. I love sports. You mean maybe buy a major league baseball team?”
“Not that big,” Big Tim said hastily. “But big enough.”
“So when do we meet?” Dante asked.
Big Tim said proudly, “Tomorrow the Hotel is giving me a party and a Rolls. For being one of their best suckers. I go back to L.A. the day after. How about that night?”
Dante pretended to give the question some thought. “Okay,” he said. “Pippi’s coming to L.A. with me and I’ll have him give you a call to set it up.”
“Great,” Big Tim said. He wondered a bit about the man’s cautiousness but knew better than to queer a deal with unnecessary questions. “And tonight I’m going to show you how to shoot craps so that you have some chance of winning.”
Dante made himself look sheepish. “I know the odds, I just like to fuck around. And then the word gets out and I can get a whack at the chorus girls.”
“Then there’s no hope for you,” Big Tim said. “But you and me, we’ll make some money together anyway.”
The next day the party for Big Tim the Rustler was held in the great ballroom of the Xanadu Hotel, which was often used for special events: the New Year’s Eve party, Christmas buffets, weddings for high rollers, presentations of special awards and gifts, Super Bowl parties, the World Series, and even political conventions.
It was a huge, high-ceilinged room, with balloons floating everywhere and two enormous buffet tables, splitting the room in half. The buffets were shaped like huge ice glaciers, and encrushed in the ice were exotic fruits of all colors. Crenshaw melons, split open to show their yellow-gold flesh, great purple grapes with their juice bursting against the skin, porcupine pineapples, kiwi and kumquat, nectarines and lichee nuts, and a huge log of watermelon. Buckets of twelve different kinds