The Ten-Ounce Siesta

Angel sat down on Jack’s couch. “I can’t even remember the last time I was up this early.”

“You mean when you weren’t still up from the night before.”

Jack had intended the comment as a joke. Judging from Angel’s expression, she didn’t take it that way. She looked as if she’d been slapped when she least expected it.

“Hey,” Jack said. “I’m sorry. Whatever I said-”

“It’s okay.” Angel wiped her eyes. “I’m just really tired. This whole thing with Spike has me seriously screwed up.” Jack handed her a Kleenex. “I was just going to make some coffee. Feel like a cup?”

“Sure.”

Jack ground some French roast and got the coffee brewing. From the kitchen, he kept an eye on Angel. The way she was fidgeting, he got the feeling that she wouldn’t be able to sit still for long.

He was right. Angel rose and sorted through the old suspense paperbacks piled on his desktop, laughing softly at overblown cover copy hacked out in the fifties.

At least she could still laugh. Jack poured two cups of coffee and returned to the living room. Angel was looking at the framed picture of Kate Benteen that he kept on his desk, the one that he had clipped from an old issue of Vanity Fair. “Is this your girl?” Angel asked.

“Well, she’s nobody’s girl.' Jack smiled.

So did Angel. “One of those, huh?”

“Yeah. One of those.”

“So what’s the story?”

“I’m waiting to see if she calls me or not.”

“How long have you been waiting?”

Jack blushed. He suddenly felt like looking at his shoes. Angel asked again. “How long?”

“Almost a year.”

“Uh-huh.” Angel smiled. “So, like I said, what’s the story?”

The question hit Jack between the eyes. He had to think about it for a minute. The whole thing with Kate was so complicated. But Angel’s question was really simple.

So was Jack’s answer, though this was the first time he had ever articulated it. “I guess the story is that I’m in love with her, and I’m waiting to see if she’s in love with me.”

“Do you know how long you’re going to wait, Jack?”

“No, I don’t. If I put a date on it, and she didn’t call. . well, I guess I don’t want to think about how I’d feel the day after that.”

Angel set the picture on Jack’s desk. “She’s a lucky girl. I mean woman. She may not know it, but she’s lucky.”

Jack didn’t say anything.

“I guess I’ve spent a lot of time not being lucky,” Angel said. “I guess in a lot of ways it’s my own fault.”

Jack said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Oh, I think I’m way past due being hard on myself.” Angel sipped her coffee. “Let me tell you about me and Tony Katt. .

Angel thought pink ladies were the prettiest cocktail going. She loved the thickness of the drink and the way the taste of gin and cream and grenadine lingered on her tongue.

The gin warmed her inside and made her glow outside. Angel was usually kind of nervous, actually. She didn’t have a whole lot of self-confidence, and she knew it. Oh, she acted tough enough. Hell, she had a rattlesnake tattoo and a closet filled with black clothes, and having those things made it easier to act like she actually was the way she wanted to be.

But Angel knew the difference between acting tough and being tough. You could buy a tattoo. You could buy black clothes. But you couldn’t buy confidence.

That was why she took Spike everywhere she went. He made her feel better and gave her something she could talk about if things got uncomfortable. Spike was especially good at parties. Get a stranger talking about your cute little dog and you wouldn’t have to talk about yourself at all.

But back to the pink ladies. The pretty pink color, the taste, the warm glow-that was all good. But the best part came when a guy asked her if he could get her a drink. Tell a guy you wanted a pink lady, and he kind of looked at you in a different way. Angel really believed that was true.

And that was the first thing Tony Katt asked her. “Can I get you a drink?”

Angel said, “A pink lady would be lovely.”

“How about for your dog?”

“Oh no, he’s driving.”

Ha ha ha ha. They had a real good laugh over that one. Tony went for the drink. He was gone for quite a while. The party was really slammed. A big New Year’s Eve deal at the Skull Island Hotel amp; Casino. Angel had lost track of all her friends at the celebrity wingding at the Mirage. Way too many mellow LA rockers at that one for her taste, so she’d cut out on her own.

Along the way she had a couple more pink ladies. And now the heavyweight champion of the world was getting her another. She couldn’t fucking believe it.

She waited for Tony to return. God, he was the heavyweight champion of the world. And in a room filled with women who would probably sit up and beg just to talk to him, he was getting a drink for Angel Gemignani.

Angel felt the glow. Suddenly she felt really pretty, which she usually didn’t. But right now she knew that she was pretty, wearing a little sleeveless Versace number that was as black as sin.

The dress was very expensive. Anyone would look hot in it.

Image was everything. Image could cover up a lot.

And here came Tony with her drink, and he was staring at her. Like, right at the rattler tattoo.

“Watch out,” he said. “A buddy of mine gave me a serious warning about girls with snake tattoos.”

“Yeah,” she said, all throaty like Lauren Bacall. “You’d better watch out.”

Tony gave her biceps a little squeeze and she kind of laughed. “You’re Angel Gemignani, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, all surprised. She couldn’t believe that the heavyweight champion of the world knew who she was. “Angel,” he said. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks.” Angel’s real name was Angela. But she hated it. Angela sounded so clunky.

“We’ve got a few mutual friends.” Tony ticked off five or six names, mostly guys Angel had dated at one time or another, a couple girlfriends, too. “Vegas is really a small town, isn’t it?” He took her hand and kissed it. “I’m surprised we haven’t met before.” He held her fingers in his. “By the way, my name is Tony Katt.”

“Like I don’t know who you are.” Angel didn’t know what else to say.

But that was okay because Tony did. He could really talk. He sounded like he’d been to college and then some. He sure didn’t sound like a guy who’d come out of a state prison in California.

But Angel knew that Tony had done just that. She’d seen him win the heavyweight championship. Grandpa Freddy was a big boxing fan. He went to all the fights. He took Angel to see that one.

She remembered watching Tony in the ring that night. She remembered his muscles, and his tattoos, and the way he looked so tough, so. . confident.

But he didn’t seem egotistical at all. Not now. Not like he did on TV. Maybe that was all an act, because he seemed really nice.

They danced a little, but it was hard to hold Spike and dance at the same time. Tony got Angel another pink lady. She didn’t really want another drink. She barely sipped it. Tony set Spike on his lap and started petting him. He talked and talked.

But then Tony started glancing at his watch, and she couldn’t help but notice that.

“Sorry,” he said finally. “I realize that it’s terribly rude of me. But I’m supposed to meet my fiancee at another party before midnight. And it’s almost eleven now.”

“Oh,” Angel said. She didn’t know what else to say, because she had started to think that. . well, maybe.. but if Tony had a fiancee and-

“Hey,” Tony said. “Why don’t you join us?”

Angel wasn’t sure. Tony seemed like a really nice guy. But going off with him when they’d just met-