up on the fourth floor.'
'That's how it's done?' I said. 'Tips?'
'Pretty much. Broads get minimum wage for being hostesses, members tip them for fucking.'
'The club get a cut?'
Jackson shook his head. 'Don't need it. Make the dough on memberships and booze, and the magazine and the resorts and shit. The poontang just a fringe benefit, make the asshole members feel good.'
'So where'd Ginger go?'
'She went to the islands with a member, never came back.'
'Which islands?'
'St. Thomas, got a club resort there.'
'What's the member's name?' I said.
Jackson shook his head. 'Don't know. Never know. Just noticed one day she gone and later got a card from St. Thomas. Guess she didn't stay with him.'
'Guess not,' I said. 'When she go?'
''Bout Christmas.'
'You got the card?' I said.
'Shit, man, you think I keep postcards? I read it and threw it away. How 'bout Miss Coolidge, she tell you anything?'
'Just that Ginger worked there and then left. Dates are right.'
'They ain't going to tell you shit,' he said. 'Something funny 'bout it all.'
'What?' I said.
Jackson shrugged, 'Don't know. Just, everybody don't talk about Ginger, or where she gone.'
'You ever ask?'
'Naw, I just go 'bout my business there, do my Brutus act, make sure the members don't get out of hand, make sure the girls behave, make sure old Marse Lehman got champagne. I start asking questions and they fire my ass and I have to go to work. I hate work.'
'Never much liked it myself,' I said. 'Wouldn't they fire your ass for talking to me?'
'Sure, I just figure you won't tell them.'
'Do other girls go off with members?' Jackson put one of his big Reeboks on the edge of my desk.
'Some,' he said. 'Not too often.'
'How does it come about?' I said.
'Come about,' Jackson said, 'shit. You talk pretty fancy for a guy with a neck like mine.'
'Sound mind in a healthy body,' I said. 'How does the going off with a member work?'
'Got me,' Jackson said. 'You understand I'm mostly window dressing. Big black dude stand around and look bad. Part of the look, you know? They actually go round to black schools and recruit ballplayers. Make old Perry feel bold have a few black studs standing by.'
'Yowzah,' I said.
Jackson shrugged. 'You think you gonna play ball all your life, then you twenty-four and you finished and ain't no real market for running over offensive tackles. Better than stealing.'
'And Perry's fun to be around.'
Jackson shook his head. 'Man's a douche bag,' he said, 'but he got a touch for money.'
'When things are going bad,' I said, 'you can feel good about not being Perry Lehman.'
'Cheer you right up, man,' Jackson said.
'You know anything about how heavily he's connected?'
Jackson shook his head. 'Nope. He talk like he got the heaviest connections you can get. But the man's a blowhard. He talk like that anyway, whether he got connections or no.'
I nodded. 'True,' I said. 'Anything else I should know?'
'A lot you should know, man, but that's all I got to tell you.'
I stood up. 'Thank you,' I said. 'If there's something I can do for you sometime, I will.'
Jackson stood up. We shook hands. 'Going down to the islands?' he said.
'Probably,' I said.
'Enjoy,' he said, and turned and left the room.
I called Patricia Utley and made a proposal. 'I'm looking for April again,' I said. 'And I need a client.'
'Running short of funds?' she said.
