They Called Him the Streak

Andy streaking out of the strip club. It is Lady's Night and he is drunk off his ass.















It is hot out... even at night on the Las Vegas strip. It's no wonder they had to build Hoover Dam. With a billion light bulbs, and twenty air conditioners the size of a three bedroom house parked on every one of these casino/hotels, the meter on this town must be moving faster than the speed of light.


We walk for a bit, Lou leading the way. I feel like a passenger on a train to nowhere, with a demon in the engine and the devil switching the tracks.
"Hey... where are we going?"
Nothing. He just keeps marching. I look behind us and see that we have lost the boys.
"Lou... wait for a second. Andy and Mike, I think we lost them."

He stops for a moment and turns in wide circles, like a ferrel cat that is ready to fight.


I start back through the small crowd of people that are walking the block and I see the both of them, each holding two plastic cups.

"Hey... " I call to them.

Mike walks up and extends one of the cups my way.
"Sorry, Andy wanted to buy us a round from that slushy vendor back there." He nods back over his shoulder to a hole in the wall. "I hope you like Rum Runners."


I nod and take the drink. Andy walks on by and approaches Lou.
"He is in a hell of a mood." I look at the bronze beverage in the plastic cup.
"Oh ya, bein' thrown out of that club and all. Louis is pretty upset, eh?"
"No more than he would be than if you called him Louis to his face."
Mike nods.
"No, I mean don't call him Louis."
He nods again.
"Forget it."

I take a long draw off of the slushy, icy drink. It is cold and a welcome addition... and it is packing it's own heat, if you know what I mean.
"Jesus, that is a drink."
"Ya, Rum Runner... I thought I told ya."


Andy got Lou to stop walking in circles, and for whatever reason the Rum Runner seemed to work in the opposite fashion than the whiskey had. By the time we catch up to them, Lou is in a much better mood, joking with Andy... putting his hand on his shoulder when he talks to him.

"Wow, these must have a little makumba in them."
"Nope, I think it's just rum."
"No, makumba is magic... some say black magic."
"You don't say."

We walk toward the Venetian and Lou and Andy veer off toward the entrance. The Venetian is a monsterous casino patterned after Venice... with canals, old world charm, traveling minstrels, and the Piazza San Marco. When we walk in, I notice the ceiling is painted like that of the old churches that I used to see on the Discovery Channel when I was near enough to civilization to see television.

Andy and Lou are on a mission. They have conspired on an objective and whatever that plan is, Mike and I are only following along at this point.

"This here is really something." Mike stops and pulls the disposable camera out of his pocket.
"Take my picture here in this lobby, Jake."
The boys walk off and around the corner... no sense in worrying about them. We'll find them quick enough.
"Sure, Mike." I set my drink and chip bucket down and take his camera to get a couple of shots for him. One of which he insists on me laying on my back so he can have his face and the painted ceiling in the shot. It's okay... I don't mind.


We walk over the canals and that is the second stop we make. Mike wants to ride in the boat. He is kind of funny, this innocense he has about this shit. I am sure that the gondoleer either thinks we are "together", or that Mike is "special". Fuck him... he can row the fucking boat and shut the fuck up. If Mike wants to ride the gondola, he rides the gondola.

"Oh... man this is somethin', eh Jake?"
"Yeah, it's pretty nice."
Just then, we pass a boat going the other way and the gondoleer is singing for his romantic couple. I guess he shames our guy into it... or maybe he was just getting ready. He starts singing, a real falsetto voice. Almost makes you laugh it is so high. But he is doing his thing, and on top of it he is singing to two guys on a romantic ride down the canal. Mike just keeps snapping pictures; one of the gondoleer mid-song, one of he and the gondoleer, one of the other boat as it passes. It is nice to see someone having fun, not posing, not giving a fuck what anyone else thinks or sees. Fuck 'em.


We end up a ways from where we started. I am feeling that Rum Runner. It feels lonely. I am deciding what to throw in there alongside it when Mike spots Andy on a blackjack table.
"Hey, there's Andy." He points to a table off in one corner, no one else but Andy and the dealer.



The two of us walk over and when we approach the table the pit boss steps up to us.


"I'm sorry gentlemen, this is a private game. I am sure you will find your luck at any number of our other table games in the casino."
Andy hears him and his eyes cut to us, then back to the dealer.
"They're with me."


Andy is on a one hundred dollar minimum table, single deck. The single deck is a rarity.
"Hit me."
Dealer slaps a card down, an eight of clubs.
Andy motions for another hit. A three of hearts. He tucks his cards.
The dealer flips over his hold card and pairs up two black kings. He turns Andy's hold cards, a three and seven of diamonds.

"Hey, Andy... you won." Mike tells him.
The dealer pulls a stack of color out of his tray and cuts them over the top of Andy's bet.
"Jesus, Andy, those are five hundred dollar chips." Mike tells him.
"Theo, I know what they are. I am the one who put them out there in the first place."
He tisks.

We watch as he takes about five grand and puts it in the betting circle. Mike's breath draws in quick at the size of the wager and the cards come out.


Andy watches as the dealer lays his final card face up... an Ace of diamonds. Andy lifts his cards so only he can see what he has and then sets them down again. The dealer asks if he wants insurance. He shakes his head slightly and then slumps.

"You guys have something else to do?"
Mike's smile goes flat.
"I mean, right now... if you don't mind."
"Oh, sure Andy, whatever you say."

We walk away from the table, over to the end of the closed pit he is sitting in, and then turn to see the result of the hand. Andy flips his cards and puts one next to the other. Then he pulls a stack of chips off his rail and matches his bet.
"Well, he is either splitting or doubling down." I tell Mike.
"What?"
"Just watch."
The dealer pulls the two cards up to the bet line and then moves the stack of chips. He then

lays a card down and Andy waves him off to the next hand, where he takes two cards and stops.
"Must have had two Aces and split 'em. Aces and eights, you always split Aces and eights."
"Okay then."

We watch as the dealer flips his hold card and then hits the hand twice.
"Had six or under."
Mike looks at me and then back at the game. The dealer is paying out on both of Andy's hands. when the payout is over, Andy flips a chip his way and then colors up.

"You know how to play blackjack, don't ya."
"I've played a bit."
"Not me, no sir. I stick with the one armed bandits. At least it doesn't require much thought, ya know? You can just sit and play and not worry about making a mistake."
"Hey, Mikey, to each his own."


Andy walks up to the two of us with a bit of a smirk on his face. "Well, that was a quick twenty grand."
"No foolin', Andy, you just won twenty thousand dollars?" Mike's smile is back.
"Well, Theo, not just on that hand alone, but that hand and the first two I played. I'm done."
He looks passed us and then scans the casino.
"Where's Lou?"
I look along with him, focusing on the dice pit. No Lou.
"We were hoping you would know. We thought you two were hatching a plan."
"Nope."
"So you came to this table and Lou went... ?"
"He went toward the Baccarat Room."

We start walking. I am hoping Lou' mood has improved. If there was enough time in the day and his mood stayed where is was a while ago I have no doubt that he could be ejected from every club on the strip.

Lou is not at the Baccarat table, but he is talking with a pit boss at the adjoining High Limit tables. He shakes the man's hand and then turns and sees us approaching.

"Hey boys."
"What's up? We thought you were playing Baccarat."
"No... hell no. That game is for sissies. No, I was asking that gentleman where there might be a nice titty show."
"A titty show?"
"Andy wants to see titties, I aim to show him titties."
I take in a breath to talk.
"Don't say it... don't." He holds up a finger.
I let out my breath and let the moment pass.



We end up back in a cab, cashed up and chipless. I had won about forty-two hundred dollars from Lou's thirteen passes. He picked up just shy of thirteen grand. Not bad for twenty minutes time. Andy is up twenty from the Venetian, and almost two grand from Wynn's. And then there is Mikey, who has a new Harley and seems quite content. I still can't believe he is giving one to me.

Our driver is from Haiti and is talking up a storm. No one can understand a word he is saying. I think they are all questions. Lou told him we were going to "Crazy Horse II"... he seems to know where it is. I did make out the words "tits" and I think "areola".

Twenty minutes later the chatty Haitian is thanking Lou profusely for the generous tip and we are on the sidewalk outside the Crazy Horse II.

"Oh ya, this is fancy, eh Andy?"
"I need another whiskey." Andy starts inside and we all follow.

The Crazy Horse II is apparently one of the top five strip clubs in the city. I learn from a cocktail napkin that they judge them on the appearance of the club itself, the dancers' attitudes,
their attractiveness, the quality of the lapdance, the stage show, and something called the Emperor's Room. We never see the emporers room. What we do see are tits and lots of them. I bet we see at least fifty three tits in this place.

We take a table and the women start to work on us immediately.
A pretty girl heads our way and walks right up to Andy and asks him what can she get for him.
"I'll give you twenty bucks to show me those tits."
"No, sweety, your drink order... two drink minimum."
"What do you have on your top shelf for whiskey? Do you have Johnny Walker Blue?"
"You want a shot of Blue, honey?"
"Just bring me the bottle."
"Baby, you're looking at about a grand... that's without my tip."
Andy peels off eleven hundred and hands it to her.
"Well... how many glasses?"
Andy looks around the table. I am whiskeyed out. Mike shakes his head. Lou has his hand up.

I order a dirty martini... Absolut Pepper, three olives in the drink, ten ready to make the plunge after those have bit the dust. Oh yeah, shaken... not stirred.
Mike looks for a drink menu with something special.
"This isn't that kind of place, Theo." Andy tells him, "Just tell them what you want."
"What should I have."
"A lap dance."
"What's in that?"
"You are if you tip her good."
Mike's head tips to the side like a dog's would when you ask it if it wants to go for a walk.
"Hey Mikey, tell her you want a Cubra Libra." I give him a pat on the shoulder. He is drunk off his ass.
"Oh... okay, I'll have what he said."

She disappears for the moment. The dancers work their way through the onlookers, stopping for twenty dollar lap dances... making a show of it. I don't think any of these guys would want to stand up in front of a crowd right now. Once the drinks arrive, the women are coming our way.

Two hours later the whiskey is gone, Andy is gone, Lou is taking in a private show in the "Emperor's Room", and Mike and I have been lap danced by every girl in the place. At first Mike looked like someone was giving him a prostate exam. Very stiff and uncomfortable. But after the second one, and the third Cubra Libra, he loosened up and started to have fun. Before long the girls were slapping him away when he grabbed a little too much. I laugh... he is a trip.

These girls are beautiful, and were long before we started drinking.

Somewhere along the line I get up to take a piss and pass by another branch of this place that is full of women screaming to beat the band. When I go by the hostess near the entrance, she tells me that it is ladies night in that section of the club.

"Amature dancers are encouraged." She winks.
"No thanks, honey. I don't think I would ever be that drunk."
"Your friend certainly is."

I can't turn and see what she is talking about because I have to piss... now. When I come back out she is clapping along with the girls in the other room.
"He really is pretty good."

I wholey expect to see Lou in there, tanked up and down to his underwear up on stage. What I do see is a man in an Airforce cap and black socks... nothing else. He is picking up panties thrown up on stage and shooting them back into the crowd, all the while gyrating to some Tom Jones tune.

With great haste I grab Mike from the grips of his latest lapdance and then proceed to the Emporer's Room and collect Lou.
"Hey, I wasn't through in there."
"You aren't going to want to miss this."
The cheers are still coming from the other room as we walk up to the doorway. Lou looks at the sign and then looks repulsed.

"You're a sick fuck. I don't need to look at twigs and berries when I can actually touch a beaver in the other room."
"No, you idiot, look who is up on stage."
"OH... Christ." Mike whips out his camera.

Andy is just about done with his "set" and for his exit he runs around the room, like running the gauntlet with most of the women taking a slap at his ass as he passes. He goes right out of the room, passed us, and out of the entrance.
"Somebody better catch him before the cops do."
Lou is laughing too hard to do anything. Mike is busy snapping pictures from inside. So I run after him.

"GET HIS CLOTHES." I call over my shoulder.
I stop in my tracks at the souvenier counter and wave the hostess over.
"I need these." I pick up a sweat shirt and sweat pants and give her two hundred bucks.

I catch up with Andy, who is being chased back toward the club by some security guys from a place up the street.
"I got him... I have him, fellas. Everything is under control."
Andy is trying to laugh, but he is breathing too hard.
"Put these on you crazy bastard."
"Where... are... my... clothes?"

"Back in the Crazy Horse, I imagine."
"What are they doing back there?"
If his breath could ignite, we could explore the darkest cavern for hours.
"You are done, my friend."
"Where's my hat?"

When I make it back to the Crazy Horse II, there is an ambulance pulling up outside. I am imaging injury, possibly a snapped neck, but see both Lou and Mike waiting outside. Mike has an armful of clothing and an Airforce hat perched on his head. It is two thirty in the morning.

Andy is out of it as soon as the door to the cab closes. Mike heaves up about fifty dollars worth of rum out of the window to the dismay of our driver. Nothing an extra fifty bucks won't wipe off.

We all decide to meet for breakfast in the morning, at least those of us who aren't passed out. Morning comes and goes, as does early afternoon. But that is okay... it's Vegas and any time is breakfast time.

Everone seems to be fine, even Andy. Although he is looking at us through sunglasses because he has "light sensitivity" today. I think he is just trying to hide his face. I doubt that anyone in the Bellagio was at the Crazy Horse II, especially the ladies... but it could happen.

Mike is leafing throught the morning paper that was left outside his door.
"Hey... there was some old lady in that place that got hurt last night. You suppose that was why that ambulance was there?"
"What ambulance?" Andy holds his coffee cup with two hands, his elbows on the table.
"Oh my, she was overly excited during the dancing for "Ladies Night" and had a heart attack right there on the spot."
Mike looks at Andy, "It was the last act of the night."
"Yeah, so? Some old woman has a heart attack watching some guy waving his privates in her face. Bunch of freaks."
The table goes stone cold silent.
"What?" Andy sets his coffee down and reaches for the paper. There is a picture with the article of a man running out of the room. He is naked as the day he was born... but the picture is not revealing enough to keep it off page three. It all seems to be a surprise to him, and not his best side at that.

"Don't you remember? This is you, Andy. I think you might have killed her."