Loaded Dice by James Swain Read Free Book Online

America were at the Acropolis. Wanda stayed.”
    They entered the ten-thousand-square-foot monstrosity that Nick had salvaged through six messy divorces. The place had changed, the paintings of nymphs engaged in orgies replaced with classic English landscapes. Gone, too, were the anatomically enhanced statues of the famous Greek gods. Valentine’s favorite piece of furniture—the marble bar shaped like a cock—had been whittled down, and now resembled a lima bean. Grabbing two sodas from the bar, Wily headed down a long hallway toward the back.
    “Nick’s in the bedroom. He’s always in the bedroom.”
    “One question,” Valentine said.
    “Shoot.”
    “Did Wanda win the contest?”
    Wily stopped at the double mahogany doors to Nick’s bedroom. Lifting his hand to knock, he said, “You’re kidding, right?” and rapped loudly.
             
    “We’re all friends here,” a voice called from within.
    They entered the master bedroom. Nick’s bachelor pad had been transformed into a Laura Ashley showroom, and the little Greek lay propped up on pillows on his gigantic bed. He was dressed in a satin robe, and as he jumped out of bed, his manhood was displayed for all the world to see.
    “Tony, how you been?” he said, whacking Valentine on the arm while pulling his robe together. He smelled like cheap perfume, and Valentine gagged on his reply.
    “No complaints. I hear you tied the knot.”
    “Yeah. They say number seven’s the charm.”
    Valentine heard the bathroom door open, and a pair of feet approach. He turned slowly, expecting to be overwhelmed, and was not disappointed when he laid eyes on Nick’s bride. Wanda Lovesong was a shade under six feet, with flaxen blond hair, too much makeup, and a body worth fighting a war over. That she wore a toga like the women in Nick’s casino only added to the allure. Valentine realized his mouth was hanging open, and he snapped it shut. Wanda demurely offered her hand. He took it.
    “I saw you on TV earlier,” she said breathlessly. “That took courage to do what you did.”
    She flashed a smile, and Valentine smiled back. It was shameless flirting, and it helped erase the sting of the woman at the Acropolis who’d found him too old. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nick grimace, not enjoying being upstaged.
    “A real hero, except his pants fell down,” Nick said.
    “Airline lost his luggage,” Wily explained.
    “You need pants, I’ve got pants,” Nick said. Crossing the room, he flung open the door to his clothes closet and motioned for Valentine to follow him inside. Nick was short, and Valentine didn’t think he’d have anything that fit, but saw no point in rubbing it in. As he entered, Nick said, “What’s your waist size?”
    “Thirty-five.”
    “Stop bragging.”
    Nick nosed around his seemingly endless collection of clothes, then stuck his head through the open closet door. “We may be a few minutes,” he told Wanda. “Why don’t you and Wily go whip something up.”
    “You hungry, honey?” his bride asked.
    “Just for you, baby.”
    “Want a Wanda sandwich?”
    Nick said
Heh, heh, heh
under his breath. As they departed and Valentine started to look through the pants, he heard Nick come up behind him.
    “Hey,” Nick said.
    Valentine turned and found his host standing next to him. The fun had gone out of the little Greek’s eyes. “None of these clothes fit you,” he said.
    Valentine nearly said
No kidding
but decided to shelve it.
    “You going to tell me what the hell’s going on?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Valentine said.
    Nick stuck his arm behind a rack of silk jackets and pulled out a baseball bat. It was a Louisville Slugger, and had Mark McGwire’s name on the throat. Nick gripped the bat with both hands, his eyes never leaving Valentine’s face.
    “Want me to beat it out of you?”
    “You’re serious,” Valentine said.
    “Dead serious,” his host replied.
    8
    A s a cop,