Page 30 of Joker's Ghost
Daisy brushes the back of my jacket. “Yours is just as expensive, and now you’ve got dust from the floor all over yourself.” When we get to the stairs, she warns, “Hold on to the banister. We don’t need any more accidents.”
When we get to the top of the stairs, I stop and take a breath. Seems my tumble took more out of me than I thought.
Cobra looks me up and down. “I think you need a drink.”
Daisy hugs me. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’m going to sit with the women.” She points to an old-style wooden table and chairs.
I look around and take in the western decorations replacing the usual biker theme, along with an old oak bar with brass foot rail, and wagon wheels decorating the walls.
It looks just like the photo Cobra showed from when TheGold Mine first opened. The one that was framed and hung behind the bar.
The women must’ve done all this as part of the Halloween decorations.
“We thought you were a goner.” Samson slaps me on the back, and I struggle to keep my balance. “Would’ve hated to see you miss the party.”
“The women really went all out with the decorations.”
“They even got some new records for the jukebox,” Samson adds.
Jukebox? We just installed a new Bose system last year.
He furrows his brow. “At least I got into the spirit of the party.” He motions to his gladiator costume, then flings his hand at me. “Not like you guys wearing the same shit you always wear.”
“But I don’t wear?—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Worried about your image now that you’re building that big casino. Shit, if this takes off, you guys are gonna be rolling in it.”
“What?” I have no idea what Samson’s talking about.
“Hey, I get it. I just got a little club on the boulevard, but you gotta keep up your image. Who knows, maybe in a couple of years, more casinos will pop up, and you’ll have some competition, but for now, you guys are the only game in town.”
I stare at him, trying to decipher his words, but the pounding in my head only gets worse. “I need a drink.”
“I don’t blame you after the fall you took.”
I slide onto one of the wooden stools, examining the vintage glasses and the old-time cash register. I can’t help wondering what bringing in all these antiques cost.
I flag Rattler over. “I need a drink.”
A few minutes later, he slides a coupe glass in front of me filled with clear liquid. “What the hell is this?”
“Your usual, gin fizz.”
“I’m all for this Halloween shit, but where’s the Jack?”
“Jack who?”
“Jack Daniels. Quit busting my balls and get me a real drink.”
Rattler shrugs and goes to help another customer, leaving me no choice but to drink what’s in front of me. I gulp at it, and it’s not half bad.
Cobra flanks me on the other side. “How you feeling?”
“A little off. Nothing makes sense.”
“You got a pretty good whack on the head.”
“Where are all the TVs?” I nod over the bar where three big screens are usually suspended from the ceiling.
