As Stacy's rickety truck shook from the temporary bridging of the twin span riding into New Orleans, Randall was lost in thought. The ride had been one of long silences and trivial conversations. They were almost there but there was much to be resolved. Or would it just linger longer, Randall thought as he eyed her toned calves.
A old Paul Young song came through on the radio. They didn't realize the lyrics until too late and the silent mood worsened. "Every time you go away, you take a piece of me..." Randall rolled his eyes as he turned to look out the window. This was going to be brutal. As it played on, he recognzied that Stacy couldn't and wouldn't change the channel because then it would be her acknowledging the sentiment.
He contemplated turning the radio down and discussing Tuan or the plan, but he worried doing so would be him acknowledging it. So the song lingered, trapping them. He didn't like ballads and he liked this one even less. Syrupy, he thought.
Stacy picked up the speed a little bit, as if she could fast forward the song, by passing cars.
Finally, she spoke, "The new twin span is coming along. Should be an impressive bridge." A line of cranes and concrete poles in the water flittered by. They looked promising. They looked new. That was good to see.
"Two years after Katrina," Randall replied, welcoming the interjection "and still not finished."
"Bridges take a long time to build," Stacy muttered absently.
"Yeah." Ugh, he thought to himself.
The silence returned. They knew nothing more to add to the bridges conversation.
The water lapped at the concrete stantions. As they rode it looked almost tranquil and serene with hardly a whitetop. The concrete stantions looked like giant spears coming out of the water and contrasted the still blue sky. Construction workers milled around atop each one. They didn't seem to be in a hurry. Randall searched for something to interrupt the song's lyrics.
He was going to comment on a dark mercedes with tinted windows speeding past but the Paul Young tune mercifully abated. A temporary reprieve at best as the intro of "She's Gone" by Hall and Oates started. Randall, quickly turned off the radio, "I'm tired of the 80s. So... what's your approach?"
"What's my approach? You want me to run it past you?" Stacy had a little venom to her tone as she passed another SUV.
"Never hurts to practice."
"Like run lines? I don't think so," She realigned her grip on the steering wheel, "I'm going to sit down next to this kid, flash my bankroll, flash my cleavage, and take an interest in all things Taun. I'll shower him with compliments, I'll let my eyes promise more than I'll deliver, and after a couple of hours of being impressed with his play, and doing some heavy flirting, I'll offer to bankroll him in a couple of the bigger buy-in circuit events coming in a couple of months with an extremely generous split for him. It's a piece of cake. We've done this a 1000 times."
"And.."
"And... Of course," she testily eyed him. "I'll get his number and then I'll call him and tell I want to put him in up in the private game next week. Kind of a trial period, then we'll get him in LuAnne DuBois' game and the plan will unfold."
"You are a pro, this is just like the time..."
"No, Randall, we aren't going to share war stories," she interupted. "We can avoid discussing "us" all you want but this is a one time thing. It's LuAnne DuBois and that's it. I'm not coming back in the fold. I'm doing you a... no, I'm doing myself a favor."
"A favor? You need some new statues?"
"No. College tuition ain't cheap. I got all I need. Statues...," she allowed herself a laugh, "But I want to keep it and have some left over for my son."
"Look... about...,"
"About? Wow, that's loaded. No. Randall, no," She spoke resolutely, "We'll discuss it... but we won't now." No we won't. He thought.
"It," he thought to himself. He had bad car rides but never with something so heavy hanging over him. It was like going to a funeral of a guy who died only because he knew Randall. He had been to a few of those, but this was like riding with the corpse to the funeral.
As they finished driving over the last of the twin-span he went back into internal thought. He pondered things that normally never filtered into his consciousness. He didn't think he had ever loved anybody. He was always focused on the current hustle and the next hustle, and living in a seedy business as his, he never trusted anybody until the money was doled out and he was a 100 miles out of their lives. Double crosses and after-the-money-split hold ups were like traffic accidents and your house. Most accidents are within 5 miles of where the person lives. Same with "third-party" hold-ups which are usually just friends of your partner, they usually take place 5 minutes into a drive-off.
Stacy had never crossed him. He was never pulled over by masked men with shot-guns after his take. She had never taken up with a younger better Randall. He always thought he meet that guy after a job, under a ski-mask and a too itchy finger, but it never happened. Stacy could have. She was dangerous as they came. She pulled emotional strings with detachment but like a sociopath she could fake any emotion and convince you she cared about anything especially you. He always wondered if she was playing him from the start. If she truly cared about "It" or it was just emotional capital. Certainly, she got a bigger take because of her leverage.
He wondered again, if he was right when he thought for a while she was as empty and bankrupt as he was inside. Yet... her love for her son seemed sincere. He hoped it was and recognized it was the first time in a long time, he hoped somebody else had a decent honest emotion just for them and not because it helped out some angle he was playing.
He wondered if he was denying that there was always something tugging them both to each other. Most people were simply pawns to Randall, they had to be, he couldn't survive or do what he did if they weren't. It's a fools fault if you fool them, was his code, and everybody's a fool. Once you care about the fool, you're the fool.
Had he made her this way? He had let her fall for him when she was young and simply eye-candy, and then he pushed her into situations like a pimp. Pimp, the word she called him in Reno. Then, he saw she was quite devious, her assets weren't solely physical and then when he continued to step on her heart, she became calloused. Of course, she fell for a target or a recruit every now and then, yet she never double-crossed Randall. He expected to her too, but she didn't. Not once.
He didn't know why she was so loyal. And it was that loyality, touched at something in a space he long thought vacant. He prayed they wouldn't discuss "It."
As the city beckoned Randall spoke again, "I am going to test him though."
"Test him?"
"See how the pressure affects the kid. I'll be playing too. I'm going to be gunning for a win... of course but at the same time, I'm going ride that kid like he's Secretariat. The heat is coming."
"The heat... Oh, jeez," Stacy smiled again and arched that eyebrow.
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