The Money Game Read online

  As she walked toward the back, Ace Semanski, who had Robert Long in tow, joined Richey and Kandie.

  “Hey, boss, you win Keno?”

  “Naw,” Richey said, looking away. He didn’t want to encourage Ace to hang around. The tall, scary-looking man, who formed his long, black hair into a ponytail, had come to work at Biederman’s a week ago. Because of his upper body strength, Richey had put him to work loading boxes of canned goods into railroad cars.

  “Who’s your friend, boss?” Ace asked, boldly scanning Kandie’s assets.

  Richey didn’t have a choice. “Kandie, Ace Semanski. Ace, Kandie Givens.”

  “I’m a friend of Carmen Salazar. Richey’s Carmen.”

  Long, who everyone at work called Country, interrupted, speaking as if in pain: “Ace, I’m broke. Can you buy me a beer?”

  Ace pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, removed a rubber band and peeled off a twenty-dollar bill, which he handed to Country.

  “Gosh, almighty, Ace! Twenty dollars!”

  “That should hold you until closing, Country,” Ace said, and the mentally challenged giant lumbered off toward the video game machines.

  “You friends with him?” Richey asked, in a puzzled voice.

  “Every idiot needs a keeper and friend. A teacher.”

  Carmen reappeared and stood next to Richey, who sighed again and said, “Carmen, meet Ace Semanski. He’s new at Biederman’s.”

  “Nice to meet you, Carmen,” Ace said, giving her the once over, too, which caused a look of discomfort to appear on Carmen’s face.

  “You new in town, Ace?” Carmen asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where are you from?” Carmen persisted.

  “Chicago, since I was a kid. Moved to Detroit after high school.”

  “I hope you like it here, Ace,” Kandie said, flirting outrageously. She’d leaned back and put her elbows on the bar to jut out her chest. Her erect nipples showed clearly through the white cotton blouse.

  “Well, things are looking up. Would you like to dance, Kandie?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, grabbing Ace’s arm and dragging him toward the dance floor, currently unused.

  “Somehow, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Carmen said, watching them go.

  “She’s over twenty-one.”

  “Barely. And she has a history of bad judgment regarding men, as she has told me in great detail, repeatedly.”

  Richey shrugged. “Not our problem.”

  “You’re right,” Carmen said. “So, how was your work shift?”

  Richey gave her a look of tolerant amazement.

  “Your work isn’t done this evening,” Carmen said, stepping closer to him, so that their upper bodies touched. The look of amazement that appeared on Richey’s face initially startled Carmen, until she realized he was looking over her shoulder at the entrance.

  “Oh, my God!” Richey said, and brushed past Carmen. She turned to view a well-dressed, handsome African-American couple standing just inside the doorway, looking distinctly uncomfortable as all heads in the bar turn to look at them, as if they’d just stepped from the pages of Ebony. The unease reflected on the couples’ faces turned to smiles as they saw Richey rushing toward them. Then, the three of them took turns embracing each other with genuine affection, all the time uttering their delight and amazement. Richey soon guided his friends back to Carmen’s position.

  “Marshon, Gail, this is my friend, Carmen Salazar. Carmen, meet Marshon Johnson and Gail Thomas. We go back years!”

  “And we don’t see enough of each other anymore,” Gail said.

  Richey guided Marshon and the two women to a vacant table near a window. He placed his and Carmen’s drink on the table and asked, “Marshon, you still drinking Johnny Black.”

  “That would be fine, Richey.”

  “Gail, let me remember. Rum and coke?”

  “You have a great memory, Richey!” Gail said.

  Richey placed the orders with John and then took his seat at the table.

  “How did the three of you meet?” Carmen asked.

  In a hyperactive voice, Richey provided the explanation. “It was at the tryouts for a production of Showboat, to take place at Starlight Theater. What, six, seven years ago? Gail and I were there for artistic reasons, although we hadn’t know each other previously. Marshon, he just showed up to continue chasing after Gail!”

  Marshon grinned and wagged a finger. “Not totally true, Carmen. I have some minor acting ability, which everyone knows who has listened to my speech at weekend charity events.”

  Richey bellowed with laughter and expressed emphatic agreement. “That’s true, I can’t deny that! You’re the greatest on that soapbox.” Even Gail chuckled, although uncomfortably.

  “Suffice it to say, Carmen, that we became fast friends during the Showboat production,” Marshon said. “Richey even worked at my charity operation for a while until he decided to pursue a career in canning.”

  Although Marshon made the remark in a humorous manner, it imposed a momentary damper on the conversation.

  Gail smoothed over the awkward moment by saying, “Richey really is one of the best actors around, as you probably know, Carmen.”

  “I do know.”

  About that time, Ace and Kandie appeared in the aisle between the table and bar.

  “Everything okay, boss? This guy bothering you?” Ace asked, his dark eyes glaring at Marshon.

  Richey immediately stood and directed an equally menacing look at Ace. “They are friends of mine, Ace, and this is private conversation, if you don’t mind.”

  Ace smiled, spread his hands and arms apologetically, and stepped back.

  Kandie interjected. “Carmen, Ace is gonna take me home. We’re gonna stay and dance until closing. Right, Ace?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Richey sat back down as Ace and Kandie walked away, although Ace looked over his shoulder, a puzzled but calculating look on his face.

  “It just occurred to me that Gail and I are the only people of color here in The Stadium,” Marshon said, drolly.

  “I’m sorry, Marshon, Gail. Most of these guys are harmless. There’s always a shithead in any bar.”

  “True,” Marshon replied.

  Carmen attempted to shift the direction of the conversation. “You said you work at a charity, Marshon. What do you do, Gail?”

  With a twinkle in her eye, the tall, beautiful woman said, “Well, when my acting career failed to take off, I took a position with a financial services firm. I have a degree in accounting. What about you, Carmen?”

  “I work at an advertising firm.”

  “Carmen is a very talented artist,” Richey interjected. “You should see her portfolio.”

  Using Gail’s logic, Carmen replied, “And, when that didn’t work out, I fell back on my degree in business administration, so I could get a job and support myself and my daughter.”

  “Hey, let’s get out of here,” Richey said, suddenly. “I could use something to eat. There’s that great all-night diner on The Plaza, remember guys? We used to go there in the old days.”

  “We’ll take a rain check, Richey, Carmen,” Marshon said. “We actually just came from a late dinner out south. When we were driving back downtown, I remembered that you hung out here, Richey, which is why we stopped.”

  “I’m so happy you did,” Richey interrupted.

  “I need to ask a favor, Richey,” Marshon said, standing. “Can we talk privately for a minute? Would you ladies excuse us.”

  Richey followed Marshon, who walked toward the front entrance until he found a semi-private spot in the aisle. “I need a rover this weekend at The Wheel, Richey. When Gail and I were driving home, I got a call that one of my guys was in a bad accident. I thought of you. You’re the best casino floor manager I ever had. It would just be Friday and Saturday night. I’ll pay you double.”

  “Hey, no problem, man. I’ll take Friday night off and be there — if you k
eep your promise about the rain check on dinner, and also agree that the four of us will start getting together more frequently. I didn’t say or do anything to offend you, right? Other than quit working for you!”

  “No, man, we’re good, you and I, for all time. I don’t have any bone to pick or any excuse for us drifting apart, other than I’m stretched too thin across my many business interests.”

  “I understand, Marshon.”

  “Look, we’ll talk soon and we’ll get together with our ladies. But, now, we got to go. See you Friday night at the VFW over on Fifteenth Street.”

  The four of them left The Stadium together. Richey and Carmen watched Marshon and Gail get into their car and drive off.

  “Wow, they are the best-looking couple I think I’ve ever seen,” Carmen said. “You guys seem like good friends. How come you never mentioned them before?”

  Richey shook his head. “We just drifted apart, but we’re going to see a lot of each other from now on.”

  In fact, those who survived would remember vividly this day when their respective paths intersected in a sleazy bar on the southwest edge of the city. Thereafter, these seven lives were intertwined and fate would bring them together again within only a few weeks. That future meeting would change everything, for everyone.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  As they danced, Kandie pressed her breasts against Ace’s body, and he moved his leg so she could feel his tumescent penis. They were communicating on a physical level, and both were speaking the same language. They were twenty-somethings, and both unattached. Kandie had been seeing a construction worker, Hank Hendricks, on a regular basis, although she didn’t consider that relationship promising. In fact, Hank has abused her on several occasions, in many different ways.

  Ace had never had a steady girlfriend, although he’d had more women than he could count. Most had submitted willingly, but he had forced himself on more than a few who teased him and then didn’t put out. Ace didn’t tolerate that. Truth was, many of the women he’d raped after they said no didn’t make a formal complaint. Most raped women dread the process of calling the police, pressing charges, undergoing a rape examination and then a humiliating public trial, where their character was certain to be assassinated. The defendant’s lawyer would call into question the rape victim’s judgment and lifestyle. Finally, the news media would report every detail to the broader world.

  Besides, many of the women Ace forcibly raped, especially if he knew them beforehand, usually wanted to understand why, and Ace offered several compelling explanations. He was a sex addict and couldn’t control himself. He was currently in counseling. What he really needed was understanding and comfort. He might even cry during this recitation. Certainly, he always begged for forgiveness. Depending on the woman, he might offer compensation: promise of a vacation together, a shopping spree with his credit card, chauffeur service. Cash. Babysitting, if they had kids. Amazingly, it often worked.

  “I work as a waitress at a restaurant over on Delancey,” Kandie said. “You like working at Biederman’s, Ace?”

  “I don’t like working anywhere.”

  “Me, either.”

  “I think we got lots in common, Kandie.”

  “I got three kids,” Kandie said. “You might as well know now. Some guys don’t like women with kids.”

  “I love kids,” Ace said, probably because he knew it was what Kandie wanted to hear, as did all single mothers. The world was full of single mothers. For Ace, it was like hunting in a stocked animal preserve.

  “That’s wonderful,” Kandie replied, barely controlling her relief and enthusiasm.

  Ace steered Kandie to a table along the wall. “Tell me some more about yourself, Kandie.” Ace was genuinely interested in cultivating any relationship that might benefit him in the future. He could imagine several uses for Kandie, beginning tonight. He had the clear impression he wouldn’t have to force himself upon Kandie.

  “I moved up here about six months ago from a hick town in southeast Missouri. I got an aunt and uncle who live here.”

  “It’s hard to meet people when you’re new in town,” Ace said. He’d stopped off here on his way to California after doing three years of a five-year sentence for stealing construction site equipment. His imprisonment in Michigan hadn’t been wasted time, though. It was like going to graduate school in crime. Next time, he’d have a better plan, one with safeguards and buffers.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Two regular Buds!” Ace yelled at the bartender.

  “So you come to a place like this and hope the right person comes through the door,” Ace said, lighting a Camel. “It’s a toss of the dice.”

  “Yeah, it really is.”

  “Everyone’s here looking for Ms. Right or Mr. Right.” He sucked the smoke deep into his lungs. “Or, Miss Tonight.”

  “Yeah,” she said, tipping her bottle too quickly, causing beer to drip into her cleavage. Ace reached over with a long finger, wiped off a drop and put his finger in his mouth. Kandie involuntarily sucked in her breath.

  “It gives you an understanding of the personal ads in the newspaper,” Ace continued. “You know, M searching for W and vice versa.”

  Kandie looked horrified and Ace laughed over the fact he’d stumbled onto one of her secrets. “Didja notice how everyone who places one of those ads is attractive or handsome, physically fit, no drugs or diseases. Lots of money. They like long walks, dining out, dancing.” Ace paused. “They’re also romantic, trustworthy, and loyal.” He dragged out the pronunciation of “loy-al” as if it were a silly word. “Makes you wonder why all these perfect people are single, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Kandie said, finally, giggling nervously.

  “Makes you wonder why they just don’t tell the truth, doesn’t it, Kandie?”

  She struggled to formulate an appropriate response. “I know what you mean, Ace. It’s really hard to figure men … people … out. You know, the kind of person they really are inside.”

  He interrupted. “What’s your real dream, Kandie?”

  “Well, I don’t know, Ace, you see, it’s really hard to say.”

  “Just say it.”

  “I’d like . . .”

  “Someone to love you,” he said suddenly. “You and your kids, Kandie. A man to provide for you. A man you’d do anything for. A relationship that will stand the test of time. Right?”

  She sat back in her chair, a stunned look on her face. “How’d you know that, Ace?”

  “My mother was a divorcee,” he said, matter-of-factly. “She had me and my twin sisters, Lori and Loni. All Mom ever wanted was someone who would buy the whole package.” He looked stunned. “You know, you look a lot like my Mom.”

  “Did someone? Ever buy the whole package?”

  “Nope. Someone like that rarely comes into your life, Kandie. You know what I mean?” Ace leaned forward to signal that he was about to impart a confidence. Kandie leaned in, too. “The problem with my mother was that she was a careful, hesitant person. That can be good and bad, Kandie. There were a few guys who might have done right by her. But, she hesitated too long. Always looking for perfection, I guess. No one’s perfect, Kandie. If my mother wanted a man to take care of her and us three kids, she had to seize the moment. She had to be trusting. Take a chance. And, mainly, give such a man anything he asks for. Anything. You understand, Kandie?”

  Kandie’s heart raced and her breathing accelerated, causing her breasts to rise and fall. She grabbed Ace’s hand, stood and pulled him to his feet. “Carmen’s mother is taking care of my kids overnight. You want to see my apartment, Ace?”

  “I think it’s the start of something beautiful, Kandie.”

  She never saw it coming, right up to the point at which Ace offered to show Kandie how to use a handgun for her personal protection.

  2/Spin The Wheel

  Marshon Johnson positioned his barstool so he could spot the cop when he came through the side door. He didn’t have to wait long. At
seven, an hour before The Wheel was set to spin, the Lieutenant walked through the door. Befitting his mission today, Lieutenant Isley wore street clothes. In this setting, the symbols of his gang’s power — blue uniform, rank insignia, badge and gun — didn’t make good business sense. Nevertheless, the cop couldn’t resist doing the “cop walk,” which involved a swagger and a scowl, nodding while at the same time looking left and right, as if to let potential perps know that the law was in their midst.

  Marshon waved at the Lieutenant and yelled, “Over here, Jamelle!”

  Jamelle Isley, second-in-command of the Central Patrol Division at Limon and Trafficant, swaggered over to the bar and fist-bumped Marshon.

  “Whatcha drinkin’, my man?” Marshon asked, slapping the cop playfully on the back, as he acted out one of the many roles required by his job and lifestyle.

  “Johnny Black, just like you, Marshon.”

  Marshon motioned to the bartender.

  “You’ve used the VFW before, haven’t you?” Isley asked, looking around. This chapter of the Veterans of Foreign Wars was located twenty blocks east and south of city central. Its membership was mostly African-American.

  “Yeah, it’s perfect for The Wheel. Location, location, location, and plenty of space.”

  Over the years, Marshon had explored the option of setting up The Wheel in the affluent suburbs to the west and south, mainly because the take would be larger. However, the existing political and police powers wanted this particular vice segregated, even in these alleged color-blind times. The Wheel was a welcomed and revered institution within a thirty-square block African-American enclave located on the city’s East Side. No city or county elected official who represented any part of the East Side could long survive in office if he or she advocated eliminating The Wheel. In the suburbs, on the other hand, officialdom viewed his operation as a camel’s nose under the tent of public virtues.

  “Y’all’ll get a big crowd in here tonight, Marshon. Whadaya think? Two, three hundred?”

  Marshon suppressed a smile at the bagman’s transparent effort to get a handle on the handle, meaning the money The Wheel would take in this weekend. Only Marshon knew the real numbers; everyone else guessed and some were closer to the truth than others. The police brass downtown wanted to know his net income so they could calculate an acceptable weekly pay-off amount. Isley just wanted to make certain he was getting a big enough bite.