“I think the pit boss made them pay quite a bit,” I said, wincing even just thinking about the sounds of those cracks.
“As she should. No one should be able to put their hands on a woman and walk away from it. She threw your lock in the ocean, by the way. I can get you a new one.”
“I guess I don’t need it now.”
That part hadn’t really occurred to me until right then.
My career as a lounge singer in Atlantic City was effectively over.
And, yeah, I had some conflicted feelings about that.
On the one hand, working for Frank had been a misery. The pay was awful. His attentions were worse. On the other, I loved being on that stage. I loved the room. I loved the songs and the audience and the applause.
“You’re going to buy the casino, right?” I asked.
“That’s the plan. Once I work some shit out with whoever Frank owes money to.”
The dark way he said ‘work some shit out’ made me think it wasn’t going to be a civil conversation.
I should have been horrified.
A normal person would be.
But a normal person hadn’t been in that room with me, hadn’t been beaten and threatened with rape by the men who worked for that mystery man. A man who must have been even worse than them if he controlled them.
And I’m sorry, maybe my morals were skewed, but I didn’t think men like that should be allowed to be out and functioning in society.
“Are you going to renovate?”
“Have you seen the place?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Even the lounge?”
Remo tapped his knuckles on the table. “As far as I’m concerned, leaving that lounge the way it’s been since the place opened was the only good decision he ever made.”
“Oh, good.” The relief had my shoulders relaxing.
“You can come back and make a guest appearance anytime you want,” he said. “Though you’re gonna have to find a new piano player.”
“What’s wrong with Archie?”
“Aside from the fact that he’s a hundred and ten?” he asked.
“He loves the music.”
“He needs the money,” Remo clarified. “His wife was real sick for a long time. The medical bills ate through his retirement.So he’s working every night with hands that are screaming in pain.”
“How do you know all that?”
“Well, I saw him playing the first night I came to town. You can see it. But it’s my job to know the rest.”
“But firing him is just cruel. Who else would ever hire him at his age?”
“I’m not gonna fire him. I’m gonna retire him.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Means he gets a severance. He deserves one with how long he’s been with the place, but since it changed hands several times, there’s no reward for his loyalty.”
