between the golden arches of the golden nugget now thoroughly uncomfortable by such unrelenting weather… the sounds of cash being made and lost… everywhere truly inspiring endeavor… today would be the day i would break on through….this was my thread needle street

“for what is a man, what has he got,  if not himself, then he has naught
to say the things he truly feels, and not the words of one who kneels
the record shows i took the blows, and did it my way.”

the priest gave the recorded sermon so prophetically it almost made me weep….. the american archetype of John Wayne was so, so true… i hear they are going to name an airport after him….it was truly, truly applicable here…this the land, dare say, the building of what happens staying within its cozy confines…. i was no lovable loser. this is the ultimate boys club, the thing of dreams, the essence of life and definitely worth more than more in the bank for sure….. i had my withdrawal slip completely filled out already….. in my mind

i wasnt as nervous as i had anticipated myself.. or maybe should have been. i was strangely confident… i knew i had the goods and was prepared to deliver to the most fitting recipient. everyone would benefit, nature would take its course, it would do what it does….. i had been tipped to the presence of armed men but it didnt matter…. what did that woman know? aside from how to dress….i was no lovable loser and to be taken very, very seriously… my suit and demeanor would do all the necessary establishment of my intent, vigor, and potential…

after walking past concierge, i could have been invisible aside from an overly friendly bellboy who tipped his funny looking hat and said hello, perhaps he knows the power i carry between these two ears. he definitely recognizes it. i ignored his greeting… he was lesser, not worthy, not big enough, not handsome enough, not daring and certainly not endowed quite enough…. he did not drink coca-cola like me… the real stuff

in the mirrored elevator i breathed deeply, fumbled through my pockets making sure everything was in place (i was allowed to be nervous here, no audience aside from a strange red spot in one of the mirrors, someone should clean that)….

personal inventory
wallet (containing a small fortune of 60 american dollars)
10p (not exchanged for lady luck)
a comb
handkerchief (used for sweat and…other)
pocket knife (unless things got rough)
& a book of matches (for after the deal was sealed)

i was ready…. as i would ever be…

Nicolau greeted me warmly as he always does, exchanged the usual pleasantries and ushered me into his suite. joined there by three  men sitting in the lounge of the room, a shadow of a man sat in the corner by the phone, and yet another dark figure poised in a chair by the large window, the drapes open a small bit. he was wearing expensive looking sunglasses that glinted in the afternoon light,  the devils wink….

myself and four nicely dressed men sat before an ample table discussing small things, laughing, drinking american liquor and telling small stories, what brought them to this stucco, terracotta upon sand and all that….it was true camaraderie and greatness assembled at this table… a small, well endowed army.

there were two russians, definitely eastern european, their names ended with the letter R so my best guess was, Russia. the third, rather quiet, was european but not immediately distinguishable…. my guess in proximity to Nicolau.. Mediterranean. it wasnt important… everyone’s accented english clicked and whirred enough to make one believe they were on a train…the trip to this point, charming.

“Diamonds are forever friend…” Nicolau began, opened his suit jacket and placed a small revolver on the table, which immediately stopped the small talk. the deal had changed…

“yes Nico, ive not brought my pistol today, would have caused quite a stir at Kennedy Airport, though i dont think they would have minded much in Texas. why are there no direct flights from London to Texas?” … i laughed attempting to break the mood. i might as well have broke wind…

“Lets make this short, we’ve all many, many things to do the remainder of our time here. You have made the choice to come and we are very happy you have. What you have brought with you is very important to us…” Nicolau was completely transfixed at the center of my chest. Did he notice that i had been caught off guard? my heart beating  miles out of my chest? he knew the suit was fake…

“Yes Nico I have what you wanted, and i came so quickly because, we are friends. And, the fee.”

“Of course, of course the fee, the fee….” Nicolau glanced to the very quiet fellow who now shifted his position within his seat, now in a position of power..

“Can i see it?” Nicolau softened…. glanced again over towards me as if we were fishing a small stream, as we had done so many times when we were lesser, younger men.

within my suit jacket pocket, i carefully removed the matchbook i had kept so heart close…. Nicolau knew it. i placed the small match book on the table, unfolding slowly… a small, carefully squared piece of note paper withdrew from within…

the collective eyes widened….one of the Russians grunted…  i unfolded the small note, placing it upon the table… Max Shreck, (whom i nicknamed) the diminutive man all of a sudden was a lion.. he too reached into his suit jacket pocket and placed a small revolver (german made) onto the table, along with a small piece of paper, similiar if not identical to mine….a very strong suit
things were beginning to change.

the two russians also produced small pistols and placed them on the table, the cache of weaponry within very easy reach of everyone but myself…..things were changing even quicker now…

“Can you read these two notes please… for me?” Nicolau asked calmly as if he had asked me to compare two comic strips over morning tea and scones… the fucking bastard… Max Shreck nudged the two notes toward my direction with the nose of his pistol..

the notes fluttered slowly, accidentally, off the table…. with a lunge in my quiet desperation i tried to help the situation (i am english therefore helpful)….. the armed men quickly snapped for their pistols and there we were…. in state, as if just crashing several cars together at once
“JESUS CHRIST NICO what the fuck is this?!”
the back of my neck was completely drenched in cold Nevada sweat, easily matching the rooms tone. i commandeered the notes and returned to the demilitarized zone, race track paddock of the table
“They are the same…”
things had changed

the dark figure in the corner received a very well placed phone call, answering the question in a language i didnt recognize…
things had gone horribly… horribly wrong

back through hells’ gate of the golden nugget, myself, Nicolau and my new accented “friends” made our way towards a waiting, chauffeured long car. i was less joining with this group than escorted. Maximum Shreck now loomed very large in my periphery… he stayed uncomfortably close to me.

we drove for a moment (we could have walked) and arrived through a gapping clowns mouth to the Circus Circus casino, exited our prestigious black car and walked inside this romping, bellowing mountain. we could have been the New York Cosmos at that point, hustling with grand purpose through the casino arriving in the show room, and took two tables beneath a high wire act… happening above us…

Nicolau sat very closely to my left and suddenly shoved a pistol just below my rib cage, underneath the table…
“Youve been bought out friend.” he slurred.
“I’ll call the CIA Nicolau, dont think that i wont. I WILL fucking call them. I have nothing to lose and EVERYTHING TO GAIN… i will call them.”

Nicolau punched the pistol further below my ribs as if probing for oil…
“If you survive this, give your friends a call. maybe you can work for them…” a wrinkle of a smile pursing across his face…

A blonde cocktail waitress approached the now loud Russian contingent ( had vodka between casinos) at the adjoining table, whispered something very quickly to one of the men, glanced at me, glanced across the room and walked hurriedly away. it certainly wasnt an order for my vodka… Nicolau looked towards the circus performers above us, now doing a completely asynchronous trapeze act with grace, dignity, and ease…. they looked Russian too..

“Not so unlike what we do… is it friend?” Nicolau introspected.

upon the rooftop, the sun began to sulk lowly over the western hills, it was rather comforting, if not strangely beautiful and familiar, as the image is popular on touristy postcards pelted all over this god forsaken fucking cow town. Nicolau, myself, and Max watched a helicopter approach the heli-pad from the distance, its blades cackling at me as if the bird knew exactly what was going on…. it might be the last thing i ever, ever know…. i stood daydreaming that the moon, on this night, would hang high, giving me something to look up at, rather than eternally looking down over this, or any other tall cliff

“i’ll fly away, oh lordy lord…. i’ll fly away….”