Frank Bronski found himself looking at Las Vegas from a unique perspective.
Despite the blood rushing to his head he was able to read the sign of a predatory loan business all while trying to keep his hat on and imploring the gorillas holding his ankles not to drop him. His storied past had provided plenty of opportunity for him to practice his upside down reading skills. Before he passed out, he thought it might be a good time to summarize how he got here.
No sooner than he accepted the missing person case from Nick the peep, he had had found himself on a late night flight to Vegas.
He had a middle seat assignment but it was a red eye so he had no worries about being able to change seats. He began to worry as the line of people boarding became a meandering stream. It was moving slowly and he thought the end can’t be too far behind. He was wrong. He felt like he was in need of a bathroom and waiting at a train crossing for the caboose on the 5:15 to Chicago. The tension was mounting. He really hated middle seats. He wasn’t claustrophobic but he always felt he could become one in this situation.
A half hour later he was wedged between a very large couple. He thought surely a couple would want to sit next to each other. He observed them exchanging glances that seemed to be less than cordial and perhaps even homicidal and he decided he could handle the center seat just fine.
Before nodding off, he pondered his current situation. It was pretty damn good he thought. Well, maybe just good. Nick the peep, who he thought wanted him dead, was actually going to pay him to find one Arnie Spilotro. Upon hearing the name, Frank freaked out. “Spilotro?” Is he related to the late Tony Spilotro, the mob guy who used to run Vegas before he became the late Tony Spilotro?
“No of course not. At least, not directly, I think.”
“Not directly, you think?”
“I’ve heard he may be a second cousin or something.”
“Or something? I am not feeling too solid about your second cousin assessment.”
“Don’t worry. He didn’t inherit anything from his cousin, or whatever he may be.”
“What do you mean by “anything”?
“I mean business enterprises and such.”
“ I was more worried about temperament. Does he have the Spilatro temper.”
“Well, that seems to be a prejudicial question.”
“ I wasn’t attacking his national origin. I was just pointing out that his “cousin” had been known to have a bad temper.”
“Well, given his situation visa vi the life that he led, some negative emotions were bound to surface.”
Frank couldn’t help but think that Nick sounded like an attorney defending his client in a court of law. It was a decent argument but not enough to create reasonable doubt. The money Nick was paying him got him past that though and he accepted the job. Saving some cash was becoming a higher priority for him. He didn’t plan to keep on living in his concrete man cave forever. The fumes from whatever chemicals that were or may still be stored somewhere in there can’t be healthy but the lack of rent helped him to ignore the fumes for now. Saving some cash would be good. The thought comforted him as he drifted off to sleep.
He woke with a jolt as the plane touched down in Vegas. Clearing the cobwebs from his mind he looked down to discover the his shirt damp from drool. He knew no-one on the plane so he was not embarrassed in the least and maybe it served to keep his two angry bookends from disturbing him. He waited for both to leave together before departing his seat and kept his distance as he exited the plane. Any injuries could hamper his investigation and prevent any potential getaways. He was still worried about the Spilatro name.
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