Gorilla Beach (27 page)

“I don't know!” said Gia guiltily. “We were always making out—or drinking. Or on the couch with the lights out, or walking side by side. He wore aviators. Honestly? I can see a face, but it's fuzzy, like the camera in my head moved, too. His only really memorable feature was big white teeth.”

“Handsome enough to suck you in, but bland and forgettable. The perfect face for a con man.” Bella worked with the little information she had. She drew a basic oval-shaped face and put some aviators on top of a classic male nose. She used Will's technique of exaggerating the one distinctive feature—his wide, toothy smile. “How's this?”

“Wow! That's friggin' incredible. It really looks like him. Can you make the nose a little longer? And the cheeks a little sharper? … Yeah, that's perfect! You're amazing, Bella! You should get a job working for the cops as a sketch artist like on
Law & Order
.”

Looking at the drawing brought back images in Bella's mind of Ponzi. She tweaked it further. The final version was as close to his face as she was going to get without him standing in front of her.

“I feel like an idiot for trusting him,” said Gia, glaring at his likeness. “I'm a good judge of character. How did he fool me? Don't give me that look. I
am
a good judge of character. It's just that the range of what I consider ‘good' is pretty wide.”

“Ponzi is a professional. It's his job to fool people, and he's obviously talented at it. Don't beat yourself up.”

“Do you hate me? About Ponzi and the money?”

“I never thought of it as mine. I feel bad for you and Fredo.”

Gia shrugged. “A week and a half ago, we had nothing at all. Since we got here, we had a great time. We got rockin' nail tips and hair extensions, ate some incredible food. I had five men massaging my body at the same time. It was fun while it lasted.”

“I don't think Fredo sees it that way, though. It's fucked up, but his pride is wrapped up with the money. We can't let him lose it.”

“That makes me feel sick with guilt,” said Gia. “We have to track down Ponzi and then murder him.”

“I'll trace a copy of the portrait so we can split up and cover more ground. You work the casino and hotel lobby. I'll hit the boardwalk and beach. We'll meet back here in an hour.”

Gia tore through the
hotel and casino, showing the portrait to bellboys and concierges, security guards and blackjack dealers. No one had seen the handsome-yet-anonymous man with the shades and teeth.

A pair of gorilla juiceheads approached her. “Twins!” she squealed. They'd walked out of one of her favorite wonderland fantasies, and into her real life. “It's Guido D and Guido DM.”

“Giovanna Spumanti?” asked one.

“Holla!”

“Please come with us.”

Before she could say, “Lead the way, hotties,” the twins encircled her upper arms with their hands, pulled her out of the lobby and into a private elevator, going down.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“Hotel security,” said Guido D.

“You found Ponzi?”

But the twins didn't speak. Gia felt a pang of fear, but that was squashed when she looked in the mirrored doors of the elevator car. Despite the stress of the last twenty-four hours, Gia was pleased to see that she looked superfine, especially with a gorilla on each arm. Gorillas were the most flattering accessories a guidette could have. If she'd put on lashes and a pair of hoop earrings, she'd be savage.

The elevator doors opened into a dank basement, which was cool. Not
cool
as in “sick.” But
cool
as in “cold.” Gia didn't need a thermometer. She could tell the temperature by nipple. They registered a shivery fifty degrees.

“The basement? What's going on? Just tell me. I'm great at keeping secrets,” she said. “Except if the secret violates the girl code. Then I'd be honor-bound to spill it.”

Even in full flirt mode, Gia couldn't get the gorilla twins to break their silence. It was creepy—but exciting.

“This is like a gangsta movie. And I'm the sexy girlfriend, you know, the mole.”

Guido D said, “The moll.”

“We're going shopping?”

They came to a metal-plated door and pushed it open. Inside the room, she saw a chair, a naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by an electrical cord, and some mechanical equipment.

A man stood against the cold, black cement wall. He was fat and old, with pockmarked skin and a bizarre hat. “Welcome, Ms. Spumanti. Have a seat.”

The gorillas escorted her to the metal folding chair. “Do I know you?” she asked, getting comfortable. “You look familiar. If we met last night, sorry, I don't remember much.”

“We haven't met. My name is Vito Violenti. I'm the casino manager and president of the hotel. The capo.”

“What? The crappo?”

The old dude smiled, and Gia leaned away in the chair. His teeth reminded her of the gators'. He smelled like a hot dog left on a picnic table after a summer rain. Maybe it was the roadkill wig.

“We call this the Boom Boom Room,” he said. “Do you have any idea why?”

“You're a Black Eyed Peas fan?”

“This is where we take people we think might be stealing from
Nero's Palace. Sometimes, we have to use enhanced interrogation techniques to get them to confess. Do you understand? Have you ever heard of pouring liquid into someone's mouth while they're lying flat on a board?”

“You mean like upside-down margaritas? I'm kind of hung-over, but I'm down for it. Hair of the dog. Or whatever you're wearing.” Gia tapped the top of her head.

The Guido Twins laughed, then quickly shut up when Mr. Violenti snarled at them. “I'd like to discuss your uncanny ability at the roulette table,” he said.

“You mean my gift. I'm psychic.”

“Really. Would you mind proving it?”

“Sure!” said Gia, sitting forward. “This'll be fun.”

“I'm thinking of a number between one and ten …”

“That's too hard. Make it one and five.”

Mr. Violenti paused. “Fine. I'm thinking of a number between one and …”

“Five.”

“Right. So what is it?”

“I just said.”

“Between one and five.”

“
Duh
. Am I right?”

Mr. Violenti glared at her. “But what's the number?”

“Are you, like, hearing challenged? Maybe your wig is clogging your ears.”

His lip twitched. “Let's try this again. I'm thinking of a number. A new number. What is it?”

“Between one and what?”

“Five.”

“Don't tell me the number! I'm supposed to guess.”

“Young lady,” he asked, “are you fucking with me?”

“Ewww, gross. No offense, but I don't do chodes.”

Mr. Violenti turned toward the twins. “Is this girl speaking English?”

“I speak guidette,” said Gia. “I'm still waiting for you to think of a number.”

“Okay.”

“You're doing it?”

“Yes,” he said.

“It's three. Am I right? Look at his face! He's in shock. I hit it, bitches,” said Gia. “I got the sight.”

“Actually, I was thinking the number four. You were wrong. You're not psychic. You're not gifted. And I want to know
now
how you won at roulette.” Mr. Violenti nodded at the twins. Guido D stepped forward and picked up her hand. “Start talking, or we'll have to use some advanced interrogation techniques. The Japanese invented one I particularly like,” Mr. Violenti said, eyes glowing dementedly.

“But I've got nothing to confess. I just used the power of my brain. It's a natural talent. I was born this way. Like Lady Gaga.”

“Go ahead,” he said, nodding at Guido D. “Pull off her fingernail.”

The gorilla took Gia's index finger and started twisting her nail, which quickly snapped off.

“Hey!” she said. “That cost thirty bucks!”

“What the hell?” Guido D's jaw dropped, and he stared at the nail in his hand. He went to her middle finger and twisted that tip, which broke off easily. The gorilla seemed completely stunned. It was almost as if he expected her to be writhing in pain, as if he'd ripped off a real nail or something.

“Give those back,” she said, angry now, swiping the tips out of his palm. “Look at this,” she said, fanning her hand. “Now I have to go back to the salon. I hope you're gonna pay for this.”

Mr. Violenti shook his head. “I've got to give it to you, Ms. Spumanti. You've got balls.”

“You bet your old-man ass I do. Ziiing.”

His mouth twitched again. He might want to see a doctor about that. “It's time for you to take your balls and go home,” he said. “Boys. Get this garbage out of my hotel.”

The twins lifted her by the upper arms again and dragged her out of the Boom Boom Room, up the elevator, into the lobby, and toward the nearest exit. Then they threw her out on the street. She landed on top of a pile of luggage. When Gia got back on her feet, she recognized the metallic-pink suitcase. It was Bella's. Gia's smaller zebes suitcase was there, too, along with a few full garbage bags and Fredo's black leather duffel.

Lucy the housekeeper came through the exit doors and carefully placed Gia's makeup case on top of the pile. “I'm so sorry, Gia. I was told by hotel security to pack up all your things and have them brought out here.”

“You put my clothes
in trash bags
?” Gia asked, horrified.

“They took your big zebra suitcase. ‘Evidence,' they said.” Lucy looked as if she was about to cry. “I feel terrible, Gia. You've been so nice to me.”

“It's not your fault.” Gia, hated to see anyone upset. Searching her pockets, Gia came up with her last bill, a hundred. “Here, take this.”

“No.”

“It's okay. I want you to have it.”

Lucy took the bill, hugged Gia quickly, apologized one more time, then ran back into the hotel.

That was it. Her last dollar. Gia sat down on Bella's suitcase. She'd been evicted for the second time in three weeks. No money, no place to stay. Her clothes in trash bags like she was a homeless person—which she kind of was.

“Lemme go!” came a hysterical voice behind her. She turned around to see four security guards carrying some poor kid by his limbs through the hotel doors.

“Oh my freakin' Gawd,” said Gia. “Fredo?”

Struggling and flopping, Fredo yelled, “Put me down, you assholes!”

So they did. Dropped him like a moldy fish on the sidewalk. Gia rushed over and helped him to his feet. Fredo's face was red and wet, as if he were sweating or …

“Are you crying?” she asked.

“No!” he said.

“What do you call those drops of water shooting out of your eyes?”

Covering his face with his hands, he said, “Erin lied to me. And I lost my car! The one possession I truly loved. I lost it. It's gone, forever.”

“Oh, no,” said Gia, rubbing his back. “Did you check the parking lot?”

He pulled away from her. “It's not
missing,
Gia. That fat bastard Violenti took it to pay off our debt. Now I've got
nothing
. Absolutely nothing. And it's. All. Your. Fault!” He grabbed his duffel and stormed off.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

“None of your freakin' business.”

Gia was crushed. As dorky as Fredo was, she'd grown to care about the kid. She felt protective of him. She knew she wasn't responsible for their getting thrown out of hotel, losing all their money, and his car … okay, maybe she was a little bit to blame. Maybe a lot to blame. Sadness and desperation settled into her small bones, and she could only think of one thing to say:

“Waaa!”

“Fredo just left?” asked
Bella twenty minutes later when she found Gia by the hotel exit. “Did he say where he was going?”

“He wouldn't even look at me,” said Gia.

“Maybe he took a bus back to Seaside.”

“Holy shit. I just got the manicurist's joke about a guy coming to Atlantic City in a fifty-thousand-dollar car and leaving in a three-hundred-thousand-dollar bus. It's not funny because it's true.”

Although they were cousins the same age, Bella thought of herself as Gia's big(ger) sister. She was knee-jerking into caregiver syndrome. But what else could she do in the situation? Someone had to figure out their next move. Should she call Will? If she apologized for the body blow, maybe he'd let them crash at his place for a day or two, or store their stuff.

Gia blinked up at her. Without two sets of lashes and makeup, her face was as smooth and innocent as a baby's. It reminded Bella of when they were kids. Gia and her parents would come to Brooklyn to visit, or Bella's family went down to Toms River where the Spumantis lived until their divorce. Bella used to get so excited about seeing her cousin Gia. She'd burst out of the car and sprint up the walk to Gia's house. They'd run at each other and collide on the front lawn, rolling around like puppies. Their
parents—two happy couples back then—would watch their daughters, then go inside to catch up and cook a huge meal they'd eat all day with digestive rest periods between courses. Now both their parents' marriages had ended. The cousins were grown. Like it or not, prepared for it or not, they had to rely on themselves.

Reading her mind, Gia said, “Should we call Uncle Charlie?”

Bella's dad. “I haven't spoken to him since he left.” He'd called her a million times. But Bella wasn't ready to forgive, if she ever would be. So what if he'd been a rock her whole life? When Bella and her mom needed him the most, he turned to dirt.