“Get a lawyer, then call me.” Green left more than enough to cover his check and quickly departed, pausing only to take one more look at Margaret who liked to be called Margie.
His interest was not lost on Margie. Periodically she’d noticed him looking at her attentively. Men who came in here had an obvious preference for nude girls over a clothed one. Her only conclusion regarding Moe Green was that he had good taste.
Cameron toyed with his martini-masquerading glass of water. How the hell was he going to pull this off? Probably no contract had been struck to match this, in this country, since slavery.
The problem was to get Margie to go along. He’d have to wait for the right mood-or create it. Then put it to her that this would make their dream come true. This was, at most, a trial. Green did say that if he could not make her “his woman”-absent Cameron-she was free to move on, or back.
Maybe she’d buy it.
Chapter Four
THE PAST CONTINUED
It was 1977.
Three years had passed since Moe Green had lent the money that financed Jake Cameron’s dream, Virago, a flashy, upscale bar and grill that featured topless dancers.
This evening there was a gathering in the meeting room off the restaurant. Present were Cameron, Joe Blinstraub-his lawyer-Moe Green, and his wife, Margie.
Green assumed the occasion had something to do with the loan. The money was the lone bond that had linked Green and Cameron since the deal had been struck. Were he forced to guess, Green would expect Cameron to plead for an extension on the note. Ha! No way in hell.
Green had launched many deals since that loan to Cameron. A string of slum dwellings, prison real estate, and the like had absorbed Green’s time and attention. And of course there was always his medical practice. Cameron had been on the back burner these three years. Left alone, Green would remember the loan in another two years, at which point it would be time for Cameron to pay up or get lost. But, for now, Green would enjoy this well-prepared meal.
Cameron kept stealing glances at Margie. In the three full years since he had seen her in person, Margie had been photographed regularly at benefits and other social events. In society columns that featured celebrities’ names in boldface type, Moe and Margie were mentioned more often than not.
It was through such columns that Cameron had learned of the birth of Margie’s children. Two in the first two years of her marriage, a girl, then a boy. She hadn’t called to tell him about her babies … or anything else, for that matter.
He dared not attempt to contact her. Green had made it clear that if Margie became his woman Cameron was completely out of the picture.
And she surely had become Green’s woman.
When Cameron had explained to Margie the deal he’d been offered, he had expected hesitancy or downright refusal. It didn’t happen. Instantly, Margie had seen herself in a no-lose situation. If she chose Green it would be on her terms. Otherwise, she would return to the situation she’d left. After all, Cameron wasn’t so bad.
It now appeared to Cameron that these three years had not been kind to Margie. A few furrows and wrinkles questioned a hitherto flawless complexion. They seemed to denote disagreements, hostility, perhaps even pain. Maybe her relationship with Green was a lot less than loving. But it seemed she had decided to stay with the money.
Dinner conversation had been, for the most part, awkward. The only common denominator for this group was the loan, which would not be an issue for another two years.
Coffee and sherbet were served.
When the servers left, Cameron rose as if to give a speech, which, considering there was an audience of three, would have been somewhat absurd.
But there was no speech. He simply handed Green a cashier’s check for the balance of the loan, including interest.
Green was unable to mask his surprise. Wordlessly, he handed the check to Margie. For the first time this evening she gave Cameron her full attention. Her smile bespoke congratulations and a shared pride.
“So,” Green said, “you did it. You paid off a five-year loan in three. I must admit, when we first negotiated this deal, I didn’t think you’d make it. I figured in a few years I’d be the owner of a topless bar and I’d really make it move. And here you are, you son-of-a-bitch: You did it in three.”
“Yup, this wraps it up.”
Green worked his unlit cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “Makes me think,” he said, “I didn’t play this as smart as I thought. I shoulda got to know you better … much better. I shoulda become your partner.”
Cameron snorted as he sat down.
“Never too late, though,” Green said. “How about it, Jake? We could be partners.”
Cameron thought for several moments. “Across the board, Moe? Partners in the ghetto housing, the real estate, the car dealerships, the works?”
“Very funny, Jake,” Green said. “This place. Virago. With my money, you could expand. With my influence with our state lawmakers, we could be the very first to get a permit for legalized gambling. I don’t know, you’re probably into hookers and drugs. Here, again, I could open some doors, shut some eyes. You could make it really big, Jake.”
“Turn it around, Moe. My success with Virago could spread into your businesses. You aren’t getting anywhere near what you could realize with my hands-on managing. And as far as the Congress and the cops, I may not have as many as you’ve got in your pocket, but I’m not doing so bad. And the hookers and the dope … well, it’s here. But well under the surface.”
He looked at Moe with total self-confidence. “This is a serious offer, Moe. Partnership across the board.”
Green hesitated. But not because he was giving any serious thought to Cameron’s proposition. Finally, he spoke. “It’ll never happen, Jake. I’m traveling a faster track than you’re ever going to run on. You’re not in my league. But, no hard feelings. And I haven’t changed my mind. I never change my mind. I want a partnership in this place. Don’t ever forget: Without me this place would be just your dream. It would exist only in your mind.”
“And that’s a partnership that’ll never be, Moe. This here is my dream house. You’re never gonna get in here.”
“If I had a last buck, I’d cover that bet.”
“You’d lose.”
“You should know me better. Then, again, you never had a chance to. And you never will. But I promise: I’ll be back.”
“Come as often as you want, Moe. During business hours, of course. We always welcome a big spender like you.
“Oh, and Moe …” It was said as if in afterthought. “In a little while you’ll be able to have a choice. Next month we’re starting construction on Virago II.”
“Come on, Margie. Thanks for an interesting evening, Jake. We must do this-and more-sometime.”
Dr. and Mrs. Green made their exit, leaving Cameron with a sense of accomplishment. Green was out of his life. Not that the doctor had been an intrusive presence since the loan. But the indebtedness had gnawed at Cameron. In the intervening years, he had learned more about Green’s m.o. from a series of disgruntled and hapless victims. Green wheeled and dealed and generally stripped his associates like a vulture.
Right now, Green was probably experiencing spasms because he’d failed to make the right move three years ago.
Tough.
As recently as the middle ’60s, some potent adversaries of dancers and waitresses in topless establishments were fulminating against this new phenomenon. Legislators promised constituents that this new art form would never be legitimized in Michigan.
