Jordan Valley stands next to me at the crap game. She looks like a hooker but she’s really a porn star. Big difference. Sex for money, sure, but still a big difference. Hookers have no screen presence, Spitzer’s is a perfect example, and when you see Jordan for the first time, well all you can say is – “I get it.”
Jordan could have been a big star. She’s got the looks; the camera loves her; her voice is smoky valley girl, but Jordan Valley can’t act her way out of a paper bag. Or plastic.
So, I’ve got Jordan standing next to me blowing on my dice for luck, the pit crew is looking at me like I’m crazy and I’m sure the eyes in the sky are gathering for the next play. I’ve bet it all on one roll of the dice; a $50,000 prop bet on a crap three. It pays fifteen to one. One roll for $750,000. Just enough for what I need.
And just as I throw down the table, Jordan whispers in my ear “Are you a madman or a fool?”
Like everyone else these days, money is an issue. The issue is how to get more of it. An honest day’s labor or hook-or-by-crook? Well considering an honest day’s labor pays less than zero and a lifetime of toil adds up to your kids wishing you were dead because this is the 21st century and not the 19th and parents should gracefully shuffle off this mortal coil and not cause a scene or drain the grandkids’ college fund – what choice is there?
Like most people I’m not looking for money to make money, but to survive. Literally. Like most people. Now most people have debts on credit cards and mortgages and car loans and such. Most people have debts because they play by the rules. And some of us have debts because we’re madmen or fools.
And when you have debts like we all have, you have a couple of choices; slowly but surely pay it off, costing more and more with interest over time or by making a big score and paying in full at the soonest possible moment.
It’s all a question of risk. How much risk are you willing to take to get the monkey off your back? Some fear the consequences of making a bad situation worse. While some don’t think ahead and live in the moment on a razor’s edge playing with mortal destruction like a child with a pack of matches.
As the dice fly through the air toward the far end of the table, I look at Jordan Valley and wonder after a normal life. I wonder if she ever thinks about kids and settling down or if she, like me, wants to live the fastest way possible to shorten the misery of knowing Once Upon A Time doesn’t end with Happily Ever After.
Not to say life ain’t grand and all. Not to ignore the grandeur of creation, the joy of existence and the ecstasy of sex, drugs and rock and roll. But some of us “get” life early and all we see is more of the same through all our days and so we endeavor to make every moment our last. We dare life to throw us back. And the more life doesn’t the more we learn how to live life to its fullest. And I don’t mean it’s best, virtuous or most responsible. I mean an excess of wine, women and song.
Jordan looks at me as the dice hit the table. In her eyes is sadness. She’s made her bets. Jordan Valley is like a blackjack player who takes a hundred to the table and leaves with a hundred six hours later. She’s not in it for the money, she just likes to play. It’s all about having a seat at the table for the longest possible time before one tires of the game.
She knows I’m going to lose and it really doesn’t matter if I’m a madman or a fool – the result is the same. She could have said, “You’re my hero,” instead. Or, “I love you.” But, no, it’s a foregone conclusion. The odds of hitting a craps three on one roll of the dice are beyond rational. She knows there won’t even be any pity sex later because some guys, just out of sight, are also waiting to see me lose.
It’s easy to understand the worldwide rage against the ruling elite. The people are salivating for Marie Antoinette. I saw our president the other day laughing it up with other “heads of state” like he was at the Court of the Queen of Hearts, drinking the looking glass kool-aid. Millions of folks falling into Dickensonian poverty, billions of others living like dirt, and the machine of world government revealed as so much smoke and mirrors, and we catch glimpses of our president Animal Housing with Sarkozy and Berlusconi and the little Russian sock-puppet Medvedev.
People are aching to take up the pitchforks and are just waiting for the first million or two folks to get it all started before the revolution is safe to join.
The dice are rolling along, bouncing around, settling down to reveal my fate. It’s a good thing everyone’s destiny is death. In the face of egregious greed and wars between classes and castes, death is the ultimate in egalitarianism. So whether it’s a shiv between the ribs or a dribble glass in an old folks home, once you accept your destiny it’s all about narrative from that moment onward.
A crowd roars for a throw at another table just as my dice come up. That can’t be good. A winner somewhere else means a loser right here. I can feel a weight coming and going at the same time as one burden is lifted and another gifted. The feeling of doom is replaced by one of resignation. Like Marie Antoinette at the chopping block. After days and days of pushing destiny away, the moment finally arrives. And moves on.
I’m still looking at Jordan Valley as she looks at the table. She’s only 26. She was a girl just a few moments ago. And now she’s a porn star. And a coke whore. And a woman who threw it all away because her one and only talent is a squirting orgasm.
On the other hand, Jordan Valley in a secretarial pool is as likely as a Holiday Inn on Jupiter.
I see her eyes go wide and I think she is the most beautiful woman in the world. Like Marilyn Monroe before Arthur Miller. There is no tragedy without innocence. Her eyes go even bigger. Her mouth begins to open in a burst of energy as the crowd explodes at my table.
The pit crew’s collective jaw is on the floor. The security guys are on alert. And Jordan Valley is in my arms kissing and cuddling and whispering in my ear, “You’re a madman.”
And all I can think is, “Damn. There is a god.”
I give the crew a $1,000 chip each and they give me a chit for $750,000 to take to the cage. It was a solemn occasion. The casino boss comes over and says, “Congratulations. Debt paid. Don’t come here again.”
Before I reach the casino door with Jordan Valley on my arm, two goons approach me and one says, “We’ll take that,” and the other reaches for the cash. Instinctively, I pull away and one guy grabs me by the throat. Jordan lets out a little squeal but this is nothing for her. The guy not grabbing my throat takes the case of cash. My throat is released.
“There’s more in there than I owe,” I say.
“Interest,” one of the goons say, “The price just went up.”
There’s always a moment isn’t there? The moment of decision when you calculate the odds, judge the risk and make your move. Sometimes surrender is the best option. To live to fight another day. The best philosophy of life is “easy-come-easy-go.” The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. The bastard.
“Sure,” I say, “It always does.” The goons give me one final look, the look of killers, and turn to leave.
Jordan Valley says after them, “You’ve got the money, but he’s got me!”
And then she turns to me and says, “How did you get the crooked dice into the house?”
“Blackmail,” I say. “Scandal is bad for business. Money laundering and pedophilia is a combination most folks can’t recover from. It’s a protection racket. We protect deep, dark secrets from going public. When billions of dollars are at risk, it’s best to pay.”
“But…” she began.
“It’s like sausages and legislation, sweetheart, you don’t want to know.” This was a heist pure and simple. Information is the grail of success. The casino boss was dirty and dragged his dirt into the casino. The casino was bound to lose big, big money from the dirty revelations associated with this world famous casino. Think Tylenol before the safety caps. Ergo – a no-brainer. Pay to play.
So we take the 750 and pay off a ransom for a rich man’s son whose father refused to pay. Everything else is narrative. And now the son turns on the father and another major cartel jefe will fall. Blackmail begets black cash begets black-ops.
Jordan Valley and I head out into the night. I love Las Vegas. It smells like teen spirit. A bit of grunge, a dollop of heat, a bucket of hormones and the thrill of winning it all in a game of chance.
“I have to work tomorrow,” says Jordan, “I’ve got to rest my parts.”
A porn star just told me she has a headache.
Oh well. Easy come; easy go.
NOTE: To the best of my knowledge, the image of Jordan Valley above is, like the woman herself, computer generated.
