Читать книгу Red Snow - Sean Ryan Stuart - Страница 12

Chapter 6 New Life After Loretta

He was hopeful that his decision to drive cross-country along the famous Route 66, now Interstate 80 in some parts, would probably free his spirit. Jeremy hoped he would once again become an almost civilized human being. Jeremy would take his time, and for the first time in his life, really appreciate the beauty of this land. He realized that he never could forget Loretta, but was bound and determined to resume his life again. Jeremy kept writing her every day, and was also resolved to send her outrageously funny postcards from the weirdest places he could find on his route home. Jeremy hoped that these diversions would help him forget the pain he was now feeling. Little in his current life would prepare him for the horrors he would encounter twenty years later in the highlands of Afghanistan.

Loretta had lent him her beautiful little Mustang, and he was bound and determined to keep it in mint condition until her safe return. Early one morning, he got up and packed his duffel bag and checked out of the Presidio’s B.O.Q. Jeremy lazily walked down to the Mustang and threw his bags on the back seat. He carefully pulled out of the parking stall reserved for “General Officers Only,” and slowly drove down the street to the Lombard Street entrance. There he stopped, and turned around for the last time, and gazed at the Presidio with fond memories. He weaved his way through the early morning Lombard Street crowd until he reached Van Ness. He then took a right on Van Ness and continued up the street until he reached the northbound highway 101, which then led him to once again cross the Bay Bridge. Halfway across the bridge, he stopped at the Treasure Island exit and admired the view from atop the Coast Guard’s building. The view from this location is absolutely spectacular. A surrealistic panorama unfolded beneath his gaze. The view from this location brought back many fond memories, and made him feel pains of anguish as well as joy. He decided that it would be best if he left now, while he still could. Jeremy drove back onto the Bay Bridge and headed east toward Sacramento.

Jeremy drove at a leisurely pace, knowing full well it would be a long day. Two hours later he arrived in Sacramento, and drove southward on Highway 5. The drive on I-5 was a rather dull and uneventful trip until he reached Los Angeles. Los Angeles was one of his least favorite cities. He hated the smog, traffic and hectic lifestyle. Every nerve in his body was on edge as he slowly worked his way through the traffic. His survival instinct cried out; he wanted to lash out at these reckless and discourteous drivers. He paled at the thought of someone’s smashing Loretta’s car. After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to catch the eastbound Highway 10 toward Las Vegas.

Jeremy wanted to spend a few days in Vegas visiting his cousins, Douglas C. Lawyer, a very wealthy and successful criminal defense attorney, and Daniel “Danny” Lawyer, an equally successful banker. Jeremy couldn’t help but smile at his cousin’s unusual last name. Why would anyone named Lawyer choose that profession?

However, “Dougie or Degoulass” was his most common nickname, but that did not stop him from being one of the most prolific Casanovas in Nevada. Douglas had great success with the ladies, but he also was one of the most brilliant lawyers in the West. His success with the ladies was only surpassed by his immense skill in the courtroom. Jeremy was positive that Dougie would someday be someone of great importance, a federal district judge, or perhaps even a U.S. Supreme Court Justice. His other cousin Danny was a quieter individual. He preferred the finer things in life, and usually partied with a different group of friends then his older brother. As a successful banker his clientele expected a more demure attitude.

Jeremy accelerated the pace of his Mustang in anticipation of a reunion with his cousins. As the Mustang slowly climbed the last mountain pass, just west of the Nevada state line, Jeremy could already see the incredible glow of the neon lights that surrounded Las Vegas. Jeremy was always fascinated by the glamour and glitz that permeated Vegas. The lights, glamour, casinos, and of course the showgirls were of great interest to him. Jeremy could easily understand why a young successful lawyer would pick this desert oasis as a watering hole for life. The Mustang slowly cruised down the “strip,” as it was known, an infamous boulevard almost six miles long, cluttered on both sides by immense gambling casinos, motels, gas stations, tourist traps and restaurants.

Jeremy pulled into the Matador Hotel, his favorite place in Vegas. His old war buddy Guido Fontana worked here, and he was anxious to see him as well. Jeremy’s Mustang pulled up to the young valet attendant and asked him to please take good care of his car. Jeremy got out of the car, walked up to the front desk and asked if they had a room.

“I’m terribly sorry, Sir, but we are completely sold out, the convention, you know,” the front desk clerk answered, without even looking up.

“Gee, that’s too bad, does Guido Fontana still work here?” answered Jeremy with an inquiring look.

“Uh, you know Mr. Fontana?” asked the young clerk, his voice rising in excitement.

“As a matter fact, I do, we served together in Vietnam, and he always bragged how he worked in this hotel. Does he still work here?” Jeremy asked.

“Oh, you mean, Junior Fontana. Yes, you might say that. His father owns this hotel, and two others along the strip, and also one in Lake Tahoe. I’ll be glad to tell him that you are here, Mr., Mr.?” The young man asked, his weasel-like face gleaming with a sudden, but insincere smite.

“Just tell him Jeremy, from Nam, and he will understand,” stated Jeremy, glancing down on the young man.

The young clerk, a rather pathetic-looking kid, barely out of his teens; his face still pocked marked with adolescent zits and horrible acne, rushed to a red phone hanging on the wall, and quickly dialed three numbers.

“Frankie, this is Jim at the front desk. Tell Junior that a guy named Jeremy from Vietnam is here and wants to talk to him,” the young kid stammered in the phone.

“Who in the hell is Jeremy Vietnam?” Frankie screamed in the phone.

“No, no, not Jeremy Vietnam, you dummy! Jeremy from Vietnam, Junior’s old war buddy,” the kid answered, his chest swelling in mock indignation.

“Okay, I’ll tell him, but you had better watch your mouth. You ever call me names again, and you’ll be sharing a cement bed with the fish at Hoover Dam! Do you understand me, zit face?” Frankie answered, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

Jeremy noticed the young boy first turn beet red, then his scarred face slowly lost all of its color, as he listened to Frankie on the other end.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jeremy, Junior will be right down,” murmured the young clerk.

Jeremy turned his back and gazed toward the large gambling area.

He hadn’t really noticed it right a way, but the din of thousands of slot machines was deafening. He was enthralled by the masses of silver-haired ladies yanking on the one-armed bandits. His attention was suddenly diverted by a large hand gently tapping him on the right shoulder.

“Hi, CPT Grant, you haven’t changed much, except for the hair, and you are a lot skinnier than I remember,” Guido said, as he embraced Jeremy from behind.

Jeremy turned around and looked down at Junior. Junior was about five-feet-nine, with a stocky build and seemingly no neck. His jet-black wavy hair was beginning to thin on top, but his boyish grin had not changed much. Jeremy reached over and gave him a bear hug. Guido Salvatore Fontana, the ex-Special Forces Staff Sergeant had tears in his eyes. Both men stood there for a second and pumped hands like farmers churning milk.

Guido had been Jeremy’s weapons specialist and armorer. He was by far the most skillful and deadliest soldier Jeremy had ever met. He had a natural aptitude with weapons, explosives and knives. Jeremy knew that Guido could always be depended on to carry out his mission. One of his other great attributes was his physique. He regularly pumped iron, and exercised. Four years of heavy weight lifting had molded him into a beautiful specimen of muscle and incredible strength. Guido was one of the strongest men, Jeremy had ever seen. He had developed a typical bodybuilders shape. He had huge arms, a bulging chest and no neck. Jeremy was amazed how little Guido had changed.

Jeremy stared at Junior and had flashbacks of an incident which occurred in Vietnam. His thoughts drifted to the incident, and suddenly he was there again, the flashbacks seeming more real than the actual event. They were on the way to a base camp in the Mekong Delta, just south of Saigon, when their jeep hit a land mine. The explosion was so great that it flung the jeep, and its passengers, ten feet in the air. The jeep crashed and landed on top of one of the men, pinning him underneath. Jeremy was unable to budge the vehicle until SSG Guido S. Fontana brushed himself off, grunted like a weightlifter and picked up the vehicle with a superhuman effort. Jeremy was then able to pull the injured soldier to safety, and carry him to the hospital. On another occasion, their base camp was under heavy attack and their only heavy weapon, a “Ma” Deuce (M-2) .50 caliber, air-cooled heavy machine gun had been blown up by a mortar round. SSG Fortuna ran over to the bunker physically manhandled the heavy weapon and began firing it again. The M-2 had the heavy metal base blown to bits, but Guido was able to brace the machine gun on some sandbags and with his incredible strength continued firing until the attacking forces retreated. SSG Guido S. Fontana earned his first Silver Star during this engagement. Jeremy knew of no other man that could successfully fire and control such a weapon without a gun mount.

A powerful slap on the right shoulder allowed Jeremy’s eyes to refocus. He glanced down at Guido. Junior was staring intently at Jeremy. Guido had that deep menacing look that men in combat or cold-blooded killers develop. However, he still had a smile on his face and Jeremy was unable to tell whether or not, he was angry or just brooding. It slowly dawned on Jeremy that perhaps Junior had more than a casual acquaintance with organized crime. That thought suddenly brought him back to reality, and he decided not to pursue the matter right now. He was happy to see Guido and right now that was all that mattered.

“Damn, CPT Grant, you are looking great!” Guido yelled.

“Man, am I glad you are okay! We heard all those horrible stories about you being KIA (Killed in Action), or MIA (Missing in Action), etc. Shortly after you disappeared, I was zapped in the head and ended up in the hospital at Fort Sam Houston, Texas. I have a huge silver plate in my head now. I am okay now, except for the occasional headaches. They were not able to get all of the shrapnel out, but the doctors tell me I should be all right,” Guido blurted out in one long sentence, his right hand slowly and unconsciously rubbing a large scar near his right eyebrow and right ear.

“Well, everything you heard was true. I was taken P.O.W., and eventually escaped three months later. I was picked up by chance by a Jolly Green Giant, and here I am today safe and almost sound!” Grant said, his voice trailing off in thought once again.

“Hey Jeremy, what has happened since you came home, what are you going to do? Do you have any plans? Want to work for me?” Guido said, switching to the more familiar Jeremy.

Jeremy explained the rest of the events of the past six months, and told him of Loretta, the Presidio and Travis AFB. Junior listened intently, then dragged Jeremy over to one of the many bars and bought him a double Chivas.

“Guido, you lied to me. You always said you worked here, but you never told me you owned the place! I really appreciate the offer, but right now I am on my way home, and I am not planning on doing anything for at least six more months. Besides, I’ve been able to save nearly all my pay for the past three years, and I have nearly forty grand stashed away,” answered Jeremy.

“Well, would you have believed me if I told you we owned four casinos? You know how G.I.’s are! They lie, steal and get drunk! Not only that, but for obvious reasons, I didn’t want everyone to know who I am. You know what I mean?” Guido said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. It was menacing smile, filled with veiled threats, yet genuine and sincere, a somber wake-up call to perhaps a hidden agenda.

“Anyway, that’s old news, what brings you here? I know you didn’t come all the way to Vegas just to see me. What’s cooking?”

“You are right Guido. I am on my way back home, and I decided to stop by Vegas and visit my cousins Douglas and Danny Lawyer, and at the same time say hello to you,” Grant exclaimed.

“No shit, that ‘shyster’ is your cousin? Well, I’ll be damned, what a coincidence. He is my attorney, and one of the best guys in Vegas. I knew there was something I liked about him. Why don’t you call him and we’ll have a party tonight. All three of us, and some friends,” Junior blurted out.

“Well, it sounds like a great idea. Let’s call him now and get started.

Law offices, can I help you? A young, sexy voice answered, her breath blowing air on the receiver, as if she had been running, or for that matter, being chased by someone.

“Is Dougie there? Grant inquired.

“Who did you want? Doggie? I am sorry, we don’t have anyone here by that name,” answered the secretary, somewhat irritated by the caller.

“No, not Doggie, Dougie C. Lawyer, my cousin.”

“I am terribly sorry, I misunderstood you, I’ll connect you to Mr. Lawyer,” the young secretary answered.

“Douglas Lawyer, can I help you?” he answered.

“Hey Dougie, it’s me, Jeremy; I’m here in town. We want you to join us at the Matador, and Guido is throwing a party tonight. By the way, call Danny and ask him if he wants to join us.”

“Hey, that sounds good to me, cousin. I don’t think Danny is going to make it, he is visiting my parents up in Redding. I didn’t know you guys knew each other. Where did you meet?” Dougie inquired.

“I am surprised he never told you, I was his CO in Vietnam, and we were very close,” answered Jeremy.

“Well, he probably never knew I had a crazy cousin named Jeremy Grant. Okay, let me finish up here in my office, and I’ll be right over. Where should I meet you guys?” asked Douglas, his voice trailing off.

“Hey Guido, where should Dougie meet us?” asked Jeremy.

“Tell him to come to the front desk and ask for me, they will show him the way up to my penthouse. Tell him be sure to ask for Junior,” replied Fontana.

“Doug, come to the front desk and ask for Junior, they will show you the way. See you soon,” answered Jeremy.

Junior grabbed Jeremy’s arm and escorted him toward a bank of private elevators, guarded by a couple of beefy goons, their bulging suits revealing strange shapes near their left armpits. Jeremy felt a little uncomfortable knowing that Guido could very well be some type of underworld gangster. However, the strong bond they had developed convinced him he should not say or do anything right now.

The elevator quickly rose to the top of the building. It silently opened to a large corridor, also guarded by more beefy goons. There was a series of large doors facing the northern and southern exposures. Junior nodded to a couple of the guards and they opened a large glass door. It led into a huge, magnificent penthouse which overlooked the fabulous Vegas Strip. Jeremy walked over to the immense windows and slowly gazed across the incredible Vegas skyline.

“Wow!” He exclaimed. “This is a magnificent view, no wonder you like to live way up here. Is it always this gorgeous?” Jeremy asked.

“Yep, you got it. We have more lights on the strip than most major American cities have in their entire infrastructure. We are really blessed to have the Hoover Dam, and its unlimited power source. Sit down and get comfortable. What will you have to drink?” Guido asked.

“Well, how about Chivas on the rocks, and perhaps some cold Miller beer for chasers?”

“Sounds good to me. Hey Frankie, take care of it. Also call the restaurant and send up Tony Pascuali. I want to order something really special for my friends. Oh, by the way, ask Rosemary to come up as well,” Guido ordered.

Frankie smiled at the mention of Rosemary. She was a grand lady, but of indeterminate age and full of vigor, probably in her early fifties, possibly in her sixties. She was tall, buxom and a splendid redhead. In many ways, she resembled the legendary forties movie star Maureen O’Hara, but was slightly plumper and taller. Frankie sometimes fantasized about what she was like in her prime. Rosemary was the hotel’s personal Madame. She watched, controlled, monitored and inspected all the showgirls who also worked the field. The hotel did not allow any overt prostitution, but instead had a covey of willing girls who were available for services for special guests. It was all very well controlled and managed by Rosemary. She could spot a street whore a mile away, and would immediately dash over like an angry mother hen and protect her chicks.

Someone knocked on the door, and Dougie was escorted in by one of the goons. Jeremy got up and walked over to Dougie.

“Hey cousin, how in the hell have you been?”

Dougie was a little shaken by Jeremy’s appearance. He had not seen his cousin in almost three years and was shocked by his rather gaunt appearance, and especially his streak of snow-white hair. Dougie walked over and embraced his cousin. Both men stood there silently for a while and slowly parted.

“Hey you, what in the hell have you been doing to yourself? Trying to emulate Twiggy? I really think you should tell your hairdresser to put less peroxide in your hair gel next time.” Dougie said, in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

“These things just happen when you are under great stress. The doctors say there isn’t much I can do about it. Anyway, I’ve been told that it makes me look distinguished, and the women seem to like it,” answered Jeremy.

Jeremy was happy to see his cousin, but he noticed that Dougie had also changed. He was slightly paunchier, thinning on top and wore a full set of facial hair. Jeremy admitted that the overall impression was favorable. Dougie had that distinguished and fashionable academic look. Jeremy was convinced that the years had been good to his older cousin.

Just then, someone knocked at the door. Mr. Pascuali walked in. He was a rather small, balding Maitre Di, a Don Knotts-looking individual, but with an Italian flair.

“Mr. Fontana, what can I do for you?” he asked with an exaggerated Italian accent.

“I have some very special friends, and I want you to tell the chefs to prepare a very special meal for us. We are celebrating tonight. What can you recommend?” Guido asked.

“Well, I received a large shipment of Maine lobsters, and the Filet Mignon is very good. Perhaps a Caesar salad to start with, followed by a zuppa a la pomodore? Does that sound good?” The little man inquired, his right eyebrow raising in an anticipatory gesture.

“What do you think, guys?” Junior inquired.

Both Jeremy and Dougie replied simultaneously.

“Great!”

“Can I offer you a drink, Dougie?” Junior inquired.

“Sure, Guido, I’ll drink whatever you guys are having, and plenty of it. I told my secretary to clear my calendar for tomorrow; I’m taking the day off!” Dougie exclaimed, with great panache.

Just then, the gorgeous Rosemary entered the room with six of the most beautiful women Jeremy had ever seen. They all were very tall, radiant and leggy. They ranged in color from a chocolate-colored Jamaican beauty, to a spectacular six-foot-tall Nordic goddess, a veritable Smorgasbord of delicious female specimens, a rainbow of feminine creations.

“Sit down, and be quiet,” Rosemary ordered, her voice sounding more intimidating than the meanest First Sergeant Jeremy had ever encountered.

All of the women sat down near the window and waited to be introduced. Jeremy, Dougie and even Guido were speechless at the sight of this incredible display of female magnificence. Rosemary walked over to Guido and whispered in his ear.

“I hope you are pleased, Mr. Fontana?” Her head turning slightly to the right in expectation of a positive answer.

“Wow, you once again have overwhelmed me, Rosemary! Where have you been keeping these beauties? I haven’t seen them around the casino,” Guido answered, his eyes slowly admiring the multitude of beautiful women.

“Well, you might say they are virgins. I mean as far as the casino is concerned,” she quickly corrected herself. “I’ve been saving them for a special occasion, and have not allowed them to be used by anyone else,” Rosemary proudly answered, her already large bosom swelling to magnificent proportions.

“You done good, hasn’t she, boys?” Guido answered.

A chorus of, “Amen, Hallelujah,” greeted him. Jeremy felt the most uncomfortable of the lot. Being recently separated from his lover, he was not yet prepared for this compromising situation.

“Guido, I, I, uh, can you please come over here, I need to talk to you. I don’t think I can do anything just yet. Loretta has only been gone for a month or so, and I don’t know if I will ever see her again,” Jeremy whispered in his ear.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. These girls work for me, and they will or won’t do anything you want, or don’t want. Just think of them as your personal assistants, and they will take good care of you,” Guido smiled.

Dougie was out of his seat, and was now standing next to the girls, every one of them towering at least five inches over him.

“Hey you, you have been holding out on me. Had I known that you had so many beautiful women up here, I would have given you a discount on my services. Which one can I have, or better yet, how many can I have?” Dougie asked, his eyes bright with excitement.

“You can have as many as you can handle, but don’t let your eyes overload your pecker! As you are obviously the most sexually frustrated individual in our esteemed group, we will allow you the privilege of first pick,” Guido stated with a snicker.

Dougie quickly went over to the group and slowly eyed everyone of them. His gaze had the professional glance of a southern tobacco auctioneer reviewing the crop prior to the sale. He had an almost comical way about him. He strutted like a rooster in the barnyard, and everyone was quite aware of his exaggerated mannerisms. Dougie finally stopped in front of a gorgeous six-foot-tall redhead, and promptly said, “You are the lucky one, princess. You will have the honor of romancing me this evening, along with another beauty of course.”