Big Easy Bonanza

had his big color television on for background noise. It was tuned in to Letterman.
    “What a night,” she said, placing her register tray on the desk.
    “Still a good crowd?” he asked, without looking at her. He probably knew the answer anyway because there was a television monitor on the wall showing all the activity immediately around the bar.
    “Huge,” she said. “You want a drink?”
    “Maybe in a minute. You help yourself.”
    Monique liked it better when Darryl poured, but she didn’t say anything. She went to the bar and mixed up a concoction of orange juice, cranberry juice, and vodka. She took it to one of the garish vinyl-covered armchairs, plunked down, kicked off her sandals, and lit a cigarette. She leaned back and blew smoke, waiting for Darryl to finish the books.
    “Was anybody out in the lounge?” he asked.
    “I think there were a couple of guys out on the balcony. Are they all right?”
    “They’re not exactly all right, but it’s cool. Are you busy tonight?”
    “No.” She thought it was polite of him to ask.
    “Why don’t you go out and get them some drinks. See what they want to do. They’re looking for a good time.”
    “Who are they?”
    “Just a couple of guys. They’re from here. It would be good for business. You might like them.”
    “I’m pretty uptight.”
    “It’s up to you. The big guy’s probably loaded. Go see what they want to drink anyway.”
    “Okay.” She put out her cigarette and got back up. She checked herself in the mirror and kissed the back of Darryl’s neck. “Later for you, baby,” she whispered in his ear. He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze but kept on tallying up the cash. She gave her hips a bounce when she walked out the door, thinking he might look around and see it.
    There were two men on the balcony, partly hidden because one of the French doors was closed. She opened it when she went out. Both men were leaning over the rail, swapping jokes with some Loyola girls, according to their sweatshirts, sitting on the deck of a sailboat tied up below. The top of its mast was at their level, and they were trying to entice the girls to climb up. One of the men was skinny and looked like he might be a high school teacher or something. The other was built big and solid and had on a red nylon windbreaker.
    “Care for anything to drink, gentlemen?” she asked.
    They both looked around and checked her out.
    “Whatever you’re having,” the big one said.
    “About three fingers of Wild Turkey,” said his partner.
    “You got it,” she told them, and went back inside. She called down to the bar on the house phone and asked Jimmy to send up the waiter with a beer and a whiskey and a cranberry juice for her. The big fellow followed her in and sat beside her on the couch. He offered her a Marlboro, which she accepted, and he lit it with a big butane lighter.
    He asked her name and she told him. She asked his, and he said Jack Daniels. He was shitfaced already, she could tell. He had plenty of muscles, but he seemed to be in a good mood. He got cozy in stages, seeing what the rules were. A young waitress brought up the drinks, and he tipped her ten dollars from a roll. He had a lot of money and wanted Monique to know it. The slim man came off the balcony once to go back to the bathroom or maybe talk to Darryl. Monique couldn’t tell where, but he was gone. Jack Daniels brought out a plastic pill bottle and tapped about a quarter teaspoon of white powder onto the card table.
    “You want some of this?” he asked.
    She said okay, and he played around with it for a minute with a small gold pocketknife, then they both sniffed some up through a rolled-up twenty. It was good stuff, and Monique completely spaced out. Jack Daniels got real friendly then and had his hands all over her while they talked and he shot the bull. She remembered that they ordered up more drinks. She kept enough of her wits about her to make him give her some money. He managed that without much of a break in the action. She asked what about his friend. Jack Daniels said something like he’s just a fucking little old lady; he doesn’t care about the finer things in life. They dipped into his pill bottle a couple more times. She jerked him off right on the couch. They went downstairs and had a drink. She remembered taking a ride out to the boat launch in his car. They did it in the backseat. He was a little too rough. She remembered he had a gun strapped to his chest. Put