Читать книгу Molly’s Game: The Riveting Book that Inspired the Aaron Sorkin Film - Molly Bloom, Molly Bloom - Страница 14

I had heard Reardon mention a place called the Viper Room over the last couple of weeks. Since I wasn’t really allowed to ask questions, especially during the initial negotiations, I did my own research. I learned that the Viper Room was one of the most iconic bars in Los Angeles. Painted a matte black, tucked onto a seedy strip of Sunset in between liquor stores and a cigar shop, the venue had a rich history of celebrity and debauchery. I read that in the ’forties, Bugsy Siegel owned it, and it was called the Melody Room. When Johnny Depp and Anthony Fox took it over in 1993, Tom Petty played opening night, and River Phoenix had died of an overdose there on Halloween in 1994, while Depp and Flea played onstage.

I also knew that in 2000, Depp’s partner, Anthony Fox, sued Johnny over profits, and while the suit was in progress, Fox disappeared. During the resultant confusion, the Viper Room was placed in the hands of a court-appointed receiver, who happened to be a family friend of Reardon’s, and thus his company was given the opportunity to take over the Viper Room, which was then losing a ton of money, and to try to make it profitable again. I guess the deal was going through because one day, after Reardon yelled at people for his usual hour or so, he ordered me to get the car and directed me to the parking lot of the club.

As we pulled in, Reardon turned to me with a serious look on his face. “According to ticket sales and used inventory, the place should be profitable, but it’s been losing money hand over fist for the past five years. The staff here is a bunch of scumbags; they’ve all worked here forever, and rumor has it there’s been a lot of stealing going on. I’m probably going to fire them all, but I need you to get information from them, find out how the place works.”

With that, he got out of the car and slammed the door so hard that I thought it would break. By the time I got out, he was halfway across the parking lot, and as usual, I found myself running to keep up.

We entered the black building through the side door. Suddenly sunny Los Angeles disappeared and we were in a sinister, dank cave, being greeted by a man with long hair, black eyeliner, and a top hat.

“Hi, Mr. Green. I’m Barnaby,” he said, holding out his hand

Reardon ignored him and walked toward the stairs.

“I’m Molly,” I said, taking the hand that was meant for Reardon and smiling warmly to compensate for Reardon’s rudeness.

“Barnaby,” he repeated, and smiled back. I followed Reardon up a dark staircase. The staff was seated around a table, and none of them looked happy.

“I’m Reardon Green. I’m running this place now. There are going to be a lot of changes around here. If you don’t like it you can leave. If you want to keep your job you need to be cooperative and help make the transition smooth. If you guys can handle that, your job is safe.

“This is my assistant, Molly, she is going to spend some time with you today. I need you to show her how things work around here.”

And he turned to leave. I smiled nervously.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” I said to the angry-looking mob.

“Reardon, seriously? You’re leaving me here—what do you want me to do?”

“Just don’t fuck up,” he said, and he was gone.

I was suddenly hyperaware of my dumb sundress and cheesy cardigan.

I surveyed the angry faces in front of me. The staff members were speaking heatedly among themselves. They all wore black, most had tattoos and piercings, combat boots, Mohawks. They were rough, they were rock-and-roll, and I didn’t know how to speak to them. I wanted to run out into the sunshine of Sunset Boulevard, but I took a deep breath and walked over to the angry crowd. The most important thing was to somehow figure out how to make myself relatable.

“Hey, guys,” I said quietly. “I’m Molly. I don’t know exactly what is going on. I wasn’t given any information before Reardon left me here. But what I do know is that I can be an advocate for you. I work in the service industry too, at night, and during the day I try not to get screamed at or fired by the crazy man you just met. I usually fail at the getting-screamed-at part, by the way.”

I heard a couple snorts, and even a little laugh.

“Anyway, if we can work together and give Reardon what he wants, I think we can all keep our jobs.”

A woman in dark eyeliner and combat boots gave me a nasty look.

“You think you’re gonna get what you need and then fire us all. I don’t trust you one little bit,” she said, jabbing a black fingernail scarily close to my face.”

“Is that true?” asked an older guy with a goatee.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I can’t give you a guarantee, but I can tell you that this is your best shot at keeping your job, and I give you my word that I will fight on your behalf.”

“Give us a minute,” said a pretty blonde in a short plaid skirt.

I walked across the room and sat down in a grimy booth, pretending to check my phone.

There was a heated discussion and two people walked out.

The rest came over to where I was sitting.

“I’m Rex. I’m the manager. Well, I was,” he said, and held out his hand. The others introduced themselves.

I spent the rest of the day with Rex, who showed me how he ran the place while I took notes. I learned that he had a wife and a kid, and he had been managing the bar for ten years. He seemed like a really good guy. Duff was in charge of booking the bands and she gave me her master list, schedule, and explained how that process worked, and by the end of the day I had a fully functional operations manual, band and booker contacts, ordering information, and so on. I thanked them profusely and gave them my number.

“Call me anytime,” I told them. “I’m going to speak to Reardon and tell him how helpful you have all been.” I knew deep down that Reardon would probably fire them. I felt like an awful person as I trudged back to work. I walked into Reardon’s office and gave him the notebooks. I went to my office and tried to think of the best way to present a case to give the folks I had met a chance.

He came into my office.

“Molly, this isn’t good work,” he announced. When I started to defend myself, he interrupted. “It’s excellent.” I was so shocked I almost fell off my chair.

“I’m proud of you,” he said simply.

I had waited so long to hear any encouragement, some validation that Reardon didn’t think I was the biggest idiot on the planet.

“About the employees …”

He turned around, his brown eyes flashing, the look he would give me right before he launched into a tirade.

“What about them?” he asked sternly.

“Never mind,” I said, hating myself.

“You’re coming out with us tonight. Be ready by seven. Really great job today.”

I drove home feeling flashes of happiness followed by pangs of guilt.

The limo picked me up at seven, and all the guys were inside.

Reardon opened a bottle of champagne.

“To Molly, who is finally starting to figure shit out.”

Sam and Cam echoed, “To Mol!”

I smiled.

We got out of the limo in front of Mr. Chow’s, and paparazzi bulbs flashed as we got out.

“Look this way,” they yelled at me, flashing their bulbs in my face.

“I’m not—” I began, but Reardon grabbed my arm and pushed the photographers away. We had a special table reserved for us, where we were joined by beautiful models, infamous socialites, and a few of Reardon’s controversial but very famous actor friends. It was Friday night and every table at Mr. Chow’s was reserved for the rich and famous. Every time I looked down I had a fresh lychee martini. We left Chow’s and headed to the newest, most-impossible-to-get-into club in L.A. Everyone was buzzed, happy, and carefree. We sailed right to the front of the line at the club and were led to the best table.

I was so high from the drinks, the effortless glamour, the access, and the prestige that I almost forgot about the way I tricked the Viper Room employees into trusting me, used them for information, and then broke my promise to fight for them.

I grabbed Reardon’s arm. I needed to at least try.

He smiled at me, his eyes full of pride.

And it was all I ever wanted, and it felt so good, so I let the employees and my promises fade away.