The Black & The White (20 page)

When I saw the black Mercedes pull up
to the deli, I knew it was Andrew. I hopped in the car and giggled,
slightly out of nervousness.

On the car ride to the airport, I
began to remember why it was that I had worked for him.

Andrew showed me pictures of his wife
and kids that he kept in a small, red leather-bound photo album in
his bag at all times. From what I could tell, he had a beautiful
home, something you’d see in Town and Country magazine. He typified
the suburban lifestyle, white picket fence, a yard and a friendly
dog. It was very cliché, but sweet.

“
Your wife’s
pretty.”

“
Yeah, she’s not bad. Her
family are all assholes though.” Andrew later explained that his
wife’s family disapproved of their marriage. She came from a
wealthy family. He didn’t. “They hated my table manners. I wasn’t
educated enough for them. What the hell? I was busy working my way
through school that I couldn’t afford to study wine or art or
whatever bullshit they thought was important.” I could tell he was
still affected.

He worked his way through college and
vowed to himself that he would never be poor. “It’s what drives me,
I think.” I was shocked at his self-awareness.

On the plane ride, Andrew asked about
me, in between our vodka cranberry cocktails. I couldn’t believe I
was having so much fun with my boss.

It was evening by the time we arrived
in Vegas. A white stretch limousine sent by Stephen, courtesy of
the Palms Casino, greeted us. I played with the interior buttons,
turning on the overhead lights, the florescent pink under-lights
from the leather seats, the radio, and the windows. No button was
left untouched.

At the hotel, scantily clad women
roamed the halls amidst the clicking and clacking of slot machines.
I looked around for Stephen at the reception, but it was hard to
see past the throngs of college students, some
intoxicated.

Andrew and I were escorted into a
hotel room. Immediately, he started to unpack. I had wondered where
my room was but was scared to ask.

“
Wow, this bathroom is
larger than my bedroom in New York,” I said in an attempt to make
conversation. I am not going to sleep in the same room with him, I
thought.

Stephen and his entourage arrived
fifteen minutes after we did. They all walked through the door
adorned in their “Vegas outfits.” Stephen wore red pants and a
black button-down shirt, unbuttoned to his mid-chest. His long
locks were greased and slicked back.

Anson was the only one dressed
somberly in all black.

“
Keeps me looking skinny,”
Anson said as he patted his paunch belly.

“
Dude, hurry and get
dressed. We’ve been drinking since four o’clock this afternoon.”
There were eight people in the room, most of them brokers or sales
people. They were all waiting to be directed by Stephen.

“
I’ve been drunk since I got
off the plane,” said one man as he let out a loud burp. “Hi. I’m
Kevin,” he reached over to shake my hand. His body emitted the
strong chemical odor I later came to know was produced by
cocaine.

“
Pleasure. My name is
Isabelle,” I said.

He licked his lips seductively and
shook his body as though he was shivering. “Meow, pussycat.” Kevin
then made his way to the bed.

I pulled Stephen aside.

“
There are two double-beds
in this room. Andrew is unpacking. I am not going to stay the night
here with my boss. Find me a room, please.” As open-minded as I was
trying to be, I couldn’t open my mind up enough to have my boss see
me in my pajamas.

“
Ha. Don’t worry. I’ll give
you the other room. I knew he’d be a sleezeball, like that. But
move later. Right now, get dressed and let’s head down to gamble,”
he said, already walking toward the door.

“
Let me get ready quickly,”
I said.

“
Hurry. We’ve got money to
make.”

When I came out of the bathroom after
having applied makeup, I found Kevin, a junior trader who worked
for Stephen, snorting cocaine from the nightstand. Several of the
other guys, including Stephen, were wiping their noses. One man was
unaware he had blood dripping from his large nostril.

I suddenly felt I might have been in
over my head.

Be cool, Isabelle, I told myself. I
knew that this scene was only the first test of my being
“open-minded,” so I breathed deeply and followed Stephen and the
other men out the door.

“
C’mon!” Stephen commanded.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the door.

I looked back to see Kevin take one
last line before he carefully swiped the excess with his credit
card and carefully placed the powder back into the small plastic
bag. With the residue left on the table, Kevin took his index
finger, swiped it across the table, and then rubbed his finger
along his bottom lip.

Kevin wore a cotton t-shirt that read
“I’m a Mama’s Boy.” His bulging muscles spilled out through his
sleeves. His jeans, slightly tighter than most men would find
comfortable, stored a prescription bottle bulging from his
pants.

“
Want to feel my ass?” he
asked me. I declined as we all walked to the elevator
bank.

“
Alright, but look at this.”
He demonstrated how he was able to isolate each muscle of his
buttocks. “You see them? One goes up, then the other goes up.” I
laughed. “Isolate. Isolate. Isolate,” he repeated. He grunted to
every lift of his derrière.

“
Hey, do you know the word
for the fear of teeth?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“
Odontophobia.” He reached
over and tried to pry my mouth open with his fingers. In an
elevator, it was hard to do more than push his hands away. “I’m not
scared of teeth. Let me see yours.” His fingers tasted of
chemicals: my first taste of cocaine. It was repulsive.

Anson interjected by saying, “Did you
know that all bonobo monkeys are bisexual?”

“
No, but did you know that
snails breathe through their feet?” Kevin said to
Anson..

Kevin seemed hyperactive, yet it was
clear that he was smarter than most of the other clients Andrew had
introduced me to on Wall Street.

I wore the same yellow chiffon tank
top Stephen had complimented me on once before. I had paired it
this time with hip-hugger jeans and heels. There was a part of me
that had wanted to hear him compliment me again, to pay attention
to me rather than to the bevy of girls I was sure would surround
him.

As the evening progressed, Stephen
kept flitting between casino table and the bar, where I sat with
the entourage. I didn’t speak much. I was uncomfortable being the
only girl within the group. I couldn’t wait for Carin to
arrive.

Carin somehow managed to find me at
the bar with Andrew and Stephen. “Carin!” I exclaimed. She ran to
give me a hug and a kiss. She was wearing a black miniskirt and a
sparkly tank top to match—very Vegas.

“
Woo-hoo! She’s here now!”
Stephen said. Carin made small talk about her flight before Andrew
introduced her to the larger group.

“
Whoa, Carin! That’s the
first time I’ve seen you out of your black sweater and grey pants.
Looking good, girl. And wait!” I paused. “Are those legs? I never
knew you had them.”

She giggled as she twirled around. “I
do have other clothes—I just don’t wear them.”

“
You’ll be wearing less
later tonight,” Andrew flirted.

Stephen took each of us by the arm and
seated us on either side of him at the blackjack table so that we
could watch him bet hands of a thousand dollars and sometimes more.
Stephen lost $10,000 on several hands. Each time, without even
blinking, he beckoned to a lady with a clipboard and pencil who
stood authoritatively behind a podium surrounded by several
security guards.

I nudged him. “Stephen, what does she
do?”

“
She’s the tooth fairy. She
gives us money.” He then turned to her and made a gesture, which I
quickly learned meant twenty grand more.

She made a note on the clipboard,
nodded up to the dealer, turned her head to the left, and then
nodded to another big security guard. Just like that, Stephen was
loaned $20,000 more.

I was flabbergasted by the losses. How
could he squander so much money and not be affected? I envisioned a
back room where unlucky gamblers were beat up by men like the one
who stood behind the dealer. The pressure was too intense for me to
watch, yet Stephen kept his cool, lots of it.

I turned to Andrew.” Stephen just lost
$15,000!” I said.

“
That’s peanuts. You see
that guy? He just lost $50,000 in one hand.” I looked over at the
burly man with a beard Andrew was pointing to.

“
Stephen is one lucky
motherfucker compared to that dude. And plus, Stephen always wins
in Vegas. Just watch.”

Andrew handed Carin and me chips worth
$1,000 each.

I looked at him quizzically. “I am not
going to spend your money.” I handed the chips back to
him.

“
It’s the cost of
entertainment. It’s okay. Go spend.”

It was difficult not to feel
conflicted about gambling or to be reminded of my father’s weakness
in this regard.

Growing up, I was taught that gambling
was a game for vagrants. When my mother discovered my dad’s
gambling debts, it later became a moral duty on my part not to
gamble. Trading was a type of gambling, but I felt differently
about it somehow.

“
Just take it.” Carin said.
Morality aside, I decided to take the chips, then watched as Carin
went first to play the blackjack table. I saw how her mood went up
and down like a roller coaster. She won, then lost, then won again,
and finally lost it all. I followed suit. Like her I lost. It was a
fun emotional rollercoaster between winning and losing.

Before I realized it, the clock read
ten and it was time for dinner. We all made our way to the Buddha
Bar, a trendy sushi place inside the hotel. For a party of eleven,
we were seated fairly quickly. There were hoards of people lined up
outside, but Stephen had given each of us a VIP pass that provided
us with guaranteed access to the hotel’s many amenities, which
included immediate seating. I was amazed how far the hotel would go
simply to make these gamblers happy.

The food at the Buddha Bar was
abundant. Just as the food arrived, several girls found their way
to our table. It was clear they knew everyone at the table except
Carin and I.

“
Stop arranging your food on
your plate, Isabelle. Eat up!” Carin said to me. We both laughed at
my compulsive idiosyncrasy and nervous habit.

Oblivious to what had been happening
around me, I was surprised to see Andrew’s hands around Carin’s
waist. I looked at Carin. She didn’t seem to mind his roaming
hands. I had no idea when the flirtation had first
started.

Anson occupied himself talking to
another one of the girls whose enhanced, ample breasts nearly
touched her chin. She wore excessive makeup, like many of the girls
who were escorted by the brokers. I looked up from my plate to see
Kevin licking salt from the breast of a woman who appeared to be a
stripper. A little later, she was introduced to me as Anson’s
girlfriend.

Later in the evening, Anson told me
that in order to subsidize her meager income back in California as
a real estate broker, his girlfriend, Yasmine, came to Vegas on the
weekends to be a stripper. When he was in Vegas, they always met
up. “The real estate market is weak in California, I guess.” Anson
explained to me.

“
But I thought the market
there was the strongest in the country,” I said.

“
Exactly, Isabelle. The girl
can’t sell houses in a hot market. She has no grey matter up here.
Definitely no grooves. No folds. Just a soft, smooth blob of
nothing. But check out that ass.” Anson winked. “That’s
something.”

At the end of dinner, everyone stood
up and made their way to the door.

“
So, where is everyone
going?” I asked.

“
Crazy Horse. You’re okay.
Let’s go!” Andrew said. He grabbed my arm. “Isabelle, remember this
is still a business outing. Be nice to Stephen. Anything goes in
Vegas, you know what I mean?” He winked. “This year is going to be
a home-run year for us if you play your cards right.”

I didn’t know what he meant by his
comment, but his allusions were not comforting. I wanted to impress
my boss, but if sleeping with the client was a way to do that, I
wasn’t going to participate.

I broke free from his grip and,
annoyed, made my way over to Carin. I pulled her aside and asked,
“Do you know where we are going?” I felt like everyone knew
something that I didn’t. “What is this Crazy Horse
thing?”

“
It’s a strip club,” she
said.

“
Really?” I whispered. “I
don’t want to go. We’re women,” I said,

“
Oh, come on! We’re in
Vegas!” she said. “Don’t worry! There will be other women there.
You’ll be surprised, Isabelle. Come on.”