Chapter 40
A CARD GAME was in progress in the soundproofed room behind the green door. Two goons with crossed arms and bulging biceps stood just inside the entrance.
To my left, ten players sat in high leather chairs around the oblong green felt table. The players were old and young, snappily dressed and sloppily, male and female. They all looked bored, but I was sure that they were anything but. From the height and number of the stacks of chips, the stakes were very high.
The dealer wore a red-velvet vest over his starched white shirt and had a perfect black bow tie. He was sliding cards from the shoe, snapping them down in front of the players. He looked up when I came in, did a double take when he saw me. Then he shifted his hard gaze across the table to a player with his back to the door.
That player was Tommy. A pile of chips was at his left hand and he was turning over his cards with his right. A girl with short platinum hair in a skintight black dress was draped across Tommy’s shoulders like a sweater. She wore a rope of pearls turned to the back so that the long loop of them fell almost to her waist.
The dealer said to my brother, “Who’s this, Mr. Morgan?” He angled his chin toward me.
Tommy turned, saw me, and jerked his chair around. His eyes narrowed and he said, “You need something, Jack?”
The platinum-haired girl was pretty, twenty-one or so. She looked up at my face and said, “Wow.” I took this to mean that she thought she was seeing double.
“I’m Jack,” I said to her. “Tommy’s brother.”
“I’m Isabella. Izzy. Tommy’s girlfriend.” She stuck out her hand and we shook. “Nice to meet you.”
Tommy looked at his cards, folded, said to me, “Let’s take this outside, huh, Jack?”
“Nice to meet you too, Izzy,” I said. “Tommy didn’t mention that he had a twin?”
“Nuh-uh. No. I don’t know if I could tell you apart.”
“Even Mom couldn’t do that. You know, of course, that Tom is married. Has a lovely wife and a wonderful boy. Lives in Hancock Park under a big mortgage. And he’s a degenerate gambler. Maybe you know that.”
Tommy shouted, “Hey.”
Izzy said, “That’s not true. You’re not married. Are you, Tommy?”
“Okay, wise guy. Let’s cut it right here.” Tommy stood up to his full six one, same height as me.
“I wouldn’t get mixed up with him, Izzy,” I said. “He’s a liar and a cheat. And those are his good qualities.”
Tommy had shaken her off, was standing with his fists clenched, and his face was clenched too. He wanted to hit me, and I wanted him to go ahead and try. He telegraphed a roundhouse punch, which I blocked; I teed up one of my own, and as my brother pulled back, I grazed his chin.
We’d been fighting for some thirty-five years and neither of us had any moves the other didn’t know.
Still, Tommy was thrown off balance. He staggered back against the table, and players vacated their chairs. Drinks spilled. A woman screamed, and doormen inserted themselves between me and Tommy.
I said, “This is a warning, Junior. You come into my place and mess with me, I’m going to return the favor.”
Tommy was shouting over the bouncers, “You pea brain. You ass-wipe.”
“There’s no problem, gentlemen,” I said to the two guys with the bulging biceps and the buttons popping off their shirts. I held up the palms of my hands to say, I’m not a problem. I’m not going to get physical.
I backed away, still with my hands showing, then turned and left the club by the fire door, setting off the alarm for a memorable and satisfying exit.
A minute later, I was outside, crossing the street. I got into my loaner and turned on my phone. Yep, there was the GPS signal showing me the precise location of Tommy’s car.
All things considered, it had been a good night’s work. And it wasn’t over yet.