The California

The Cooler: Chapter 11

Realizing that he was no longer destitute, JJ left the waiter a big tip and hopped into a cab to go to the California.

“Where to?” The driver asked.

“The California,” JJ said.

“Right away,” The driver said.

“So, have you ever been in to the California?” JJ asked.

“Nah, I usually go to Sam’s town or the Gold Coast. They both cater to the locals. So, where are you from? You here on vacation?” The driver asked.

“I’m from Salt …” JJ stopped after realizing that he didn’t know where he came from. “Actually, I’m a local; I’m a recent transplant from … New Mexico.” That seemed as good a place as any, but it felt right.

“New Mexico, I’ve never been there. What's it like?” The driver asked.

Now, JJ had to come up with something. “Not a lot was happening there, so I decided to move here,” He thought quickly and came up with a nonanswer.

“So, have you gotten a job yet? How long have you been in town?” The driver asked.

“I’ve been in town for about three weeks now. I actually got a job the first day I got into town.” JJ said.

“Wow, the first day! I’ve never heard of anyone getting a job the first day they got into town. What do you do, rob banks?” The driver asked.

“I’m a cooler,” JJ said.

“Really, I thought coolers were just urban legends,” the driver said.

“Nope, there really are coolers,” JJ said.

“Hmm, I’ll have to remember that. I swear, I think a dealer was a cooler the other day. I was winning until there was a dealer change, and then I couldn’t win.” The driver said.

“I’ve never seen a dealer that was a cooler. Luck is a funny thing. Sometimes, she’s your best friend, not leaving your side for anyone else. Sometimes, she has wandering eyes, and the second that someone catches hers, she abandons you for the new person. I’ve seen players that start losing because the dealer had green eyes or red hair.” JJ said.

“Yep, who knows what keeps her near your side,” the driver said.

“Actually, I think the guy over at the Crystal Palace could help. He can sell you a crystal that will change your luck,” JJ said.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about that charlatan. I’m surprised he hasn’t had a visit from the bunko squad,” the driver said, referencing an old television program term for the police that prosecuted con artists.

“He is a little theatrical, but he really has some crystals that will change your luck,” JJ said.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” the driver said, trying not to insult JJ so that he would give him a good tip. “Well, here we are.”

They had arrived at an unassuming building a block off of Fremont Street.

“Really, this is it?” JJ asked.

“Yes, this is the back side where we are supposed to pick up and drop off. It looks a lot better in the inside. When Boyd built this, he was more interested in what the inside looked like than the outside,” the driver said.

“Ok, thank you,” JJ said. He stepped out after paying the driver and giving him a good tip.

A bus was unloading near the rear entrance, and a large group of Hawaiians stood next to it, waiting for the driver to retrieve their belongings.

“I didn’t know they built a bridge to Hawaii,” JJ said, trying to make a joke.

“Haha, good one. We were all up at the lake fishing all morning,” one person commented, having heard JJ's poor attempt at comedy. JJ turned to his side to see a very big Hawaiian standing near him. He had to be well above 6 feet, and he was as round as a giant barrel.

“Really fishing?” JJ asked.

“Yep, they treat kamaaina really well here; they have a yearly fishing tournament that we all try to get a ticket to,” the Hawaiian said.

“Kamaaina? What’s that?” JJ asked.

“It just means Hawaiians. The California really makes sure we are happy. Have you been here before? Are you staying here?” The man asked.

“Nah, I’ve never been here before. I was told to come here to look for a person,” JJ said.

“Who you lookin for?” The man asked.

“Kawika, I don’t have a last name; I just know that someone said he is a menehune,” JJ said.

“Wow, brah, you are into some serious huna if you are looking for a manhune. But if a menehune comes to Vegas he would stay here, so you are in the right spot. Go get some saimin,” the man said.

“I’m not hungry,” JJ said.

“Just go get some,” the man said, turning back to the bus when the driver yelled out a name.

JJ turned and headed into the resort. He walked in and past a roped-off lane that looked like they were set up to facilitate groups being loaded and unloaded off buses.

Just past the lanes was a registration desk manned by an employee.

“I was advised to go get some saimin. Could you tell me where I can get some,” JJ asked the woman at the desk.

“Certainly, sir, we have very good saimin at the Market Street cafe; just go up the walkway and turn right. It's just through the casino on your right,” she said.

“Thank you,” JJ said and then turned to follow her directions.

“Have a lucky day,” she said as he walked away.

The casino was older-looking, but it felt comfortable. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. He couldn’t see anyone without a smile on their face. Every cocktail waitress seemed to know the players by name. In many of the other casinos, the cocktail waitresses seem to be annoyed with the job. Most likely, they are tired of being groped.

“The players here seem to be different; they seem to appreciate the service from the waitresses and don’t treat them as prostitutes offering free samples,” JJ said to himself.

JJ found the cafe fairly easily and was seated almost immediately.

“What can I get you, sir,” a waitress asked shortly after he sat down.

Jimi Hendrix was singing quietly over the speakers:

“After all the jacks are in their boxes

And the clowns have all gone to bed

You can hear happiness

Staggering on down the street.”

Hearing the song, JJ stopped and listened for a moment before answering.

“Sorry, for some reason, that song just hit me,” JJ said after seeing the waitress getting a little annoyed that he was ignoring her. “I was told to get some saimin. What is that?”

“It is a noodle soup. It's the comfort food of Hawaii,” she said.

“Okay, then. Saimin it is. The person who told me was very insistent that I order it,” JJ said.

“Would you like something to drink with that?” She asked.

“Just water,” JJ said.

“Coming right up,” she wrote the order down and then went to put it in.

The dining room had a very tropical feel without slapping you in the face. The furniture was reminiscent of rattan furniture you would see on a patio in any Hawaiian resort. The walls were dressed in green-dominated wallpaper with a few streaks of color to subtly imply tropical flowers.

“Here is your water,” the waitress said, setting down the glass. “Are you sure you don’t want any coffee? We recently got a supply of Kona coffee from a loyal guest.”

“Is Kona coffee good?” JJ asked.

“It’s the best coffee there is, I will bring you a cup,” the waitress said and then left.

It was only a few minutes before the waitress came back with his saimin and coffee.

“Here you go, enjoy,” she said and set down the soup bowl, coffee cup, and a little creamer pitcher. “Before you put anything in the coffee, try a sip first.”

“Thank you, I will,” JJ said.

He did as the waitress suggested and tried a sip. “Wow, that is good coffee,” JJ said to himself.

“Coffee and saimin, that's an odd combination,” a voice said from behind JJ.

JJ turned around and saw it was the messenger.

“Uhh hi, Uhm. How should I address you?” JJ asked, flustered by the sudden appearance of someone he didn’t know even what he was.

“Kawika is my name,” Kawika said.

“Just Kawika, that seems a little underwhelming for a Hawaiian god,” JJ said.

“I’m not a god; I’m just me,” Kawika said.

“But Arnie said your true form is more like a giant bear than the short man you appear,” JJ said.

“Hmm, a bear, that's an interesting way to describe me. It's true that what you see is not my true form, but you can only hear people screaming and running away in terror so often before it starts to affect you. I took this form a long time ago. This is the form of my first friend. He was the first person not to run away from me. We became good friends. In honor of his memory, I took his form to move among humans.” Kawika said.

“When you say a long time ago, what is a long time?” JJ asked.

“A long time. Enough questions; I’m not here to talk about myself but to give you a message to visit Aku Aku,” Kawika said.

“But Arnie has already been talking to them,” JJ said.

“No Arnie is not talking to Aku Aku. He is talking to the trickster, which is what Aku Aku wants to talk to you about,” Kawika said.

“If Aku Aku is not in front of the Tropicana, where are they,” JJ asked.

“She. She is in Sunset Park. Go talk to her tonight at sunset. You will have to get onto her island to talk to her, so bring swim trunks. Now eat your saimin and drink your coffee; it will help not to smell so much like a haole,” Kawika said. He stood up and turned to head out the door.

“Wait, I have more questions,” JJ protested.

“I am only a messenger. Aku Aku can answer your questions,” Kawika said, then walked away and simply faded away.

“Ok, I guess I know what I’m doing tonight,” JJ said to himself.

He bent down and started eating the saimin. “That is good. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything like it.” It was a noodle soup with some unknown white disks and pink rims. Before JJ took his first bite of the disks, he thought maybe it was pickled eggs, but after trying it, he couldn’t tell what it was, but it was good.

JJ finished his food and then reached into his pocket to grab his wallet. When he pulled it out, Arnie’s car keys fell out. “Oh shoot, I was so flustered after having been given so much money I completely forgot that I had driven Arnie's car to the Riviera.”

JJ left money for his bill and a good tip on the table and then headed out back to get a cab back to the Riviera.

* * *

“Hey, Arnie, I’m back,” JJ yelled his normal greeting when he walked into the crystal palace.

“Hey JJ, I’m in the breakroom,” Arnie said.

JJ walked in to find Arnie still with the book he was trying to translate.

“So, did it work? You were gone a long time,” Arnie asked JJ when he looked up from his book.

“Did what work?” JJ asked.

“Did the luck-draining spell work?” Arnie asked.

“Oh, that. Where do I start?” JJ said. “Well, it did work, but not for long.”

“You are in the presence of the 52nd incarnation of Ahmonket.” The automatic door announcement interrupted JJ’s retelling.

“Well, got to make a living,” Arnie said. “Hold that thought, and we can continue it later.”

JJ followed Arnie out of the break room into the store area. Standing in the doorway was a skinny, pale young man with holey jeans and a t-shirt that had a single number on it: 2600.

“Hey dude,” the kid said to Arnie when he walked into the room.

“How may Ahmonket help you this fine afternoon?” Arnie said in his Egyptian priest voice.

“I was told you can help me with my luck with the ladies,” the kid said.

“Thank you for the advice,” JJ said to Arnie and then placed Arnie's keys on the counter to make a quick exit.

“Ahmonket is always pleased to help the less fortunate with his vast wisdom,” Arnie responded to JJ and then returned his attention to the Kid.

Stepping out of Arnie’s place, JJ looked around, trying to decide what he could do until it was dark when he could try to meet Aku Aku.

“Well, I guess I should see the layout of the park,” JJ said to himself. He walked over to Bally’s and through it to the side entrance on Flamingo. He tried to keep as far away from the casino floor as he could.

“No reason to have a rash of broken slot machines,” JJ said to himself as he walked in, keeping as close to the reservation desk as he could without being rude and bumping the people waiting in line to check in.

“That was probably just a coincidence,” JJ said to himself as he walked along the raised walkway that kept him as far as possible from the casino. After he heard the jackpot bells, he remembered he wasn’t a cooler anymore and realized that he still needed to avoid casinos, but for the exact opposite reason.

Stepping out of the casino, he saw the taxi stand where there should have been a line of taxis waiting for passengers. There was one person at the valet stand reading and no cabs.

“Where are all the cab drivers?” JJ asked the uniformed valet attendant.

“There are not many around today; there is a cab driver sick out to protest the new rules about airport pickups,” The guy said. “There are only a few working today. Go have a seat at the lobby bar and I can call you when a driver shows up. It will be a while have a nice tall beer.”

“I got a couple of cabs earlier today with no wait,” JJ said and then handed the valet a ten dollar bill to make sure he remembered that he was waiting.

“Thank you, sir, you probably just got lucky before,” He said and then returned to his Tom Clancy book.

JJ walked back to the bar that was just inside in the lobby area. Most of the seating was situated at the bar. There were just three small round tables with chairs. They obviously wanted to encourage patrons to sit at the bar where they could play whatever slot machine was there. JJ headed to the bar with the high chairs. When he got near, he saw that all the seats had either slot machines or video poker at the spots. He made his way over to the open area where the cocktail waitresses placed their orders and ordered a beer. The closest seat was thankfully unoccupied. JJ stood as far from the video poker machine as he could. He didn’t want the machine to spontaneously get a royal flush.

“Here you go,” the bartender said as he set down a draft beer.

“Thank you,” JJ said and then set down the money for the beer and a decent tip.

JJ went to one of the tables and had a seat. He sat and took a gingerly sip of the beer to keep the overly generous head of foam from spilling over.

“Hmm, that cab driver that took me to the Trop had said that lots of people died here in a fire. I wonder if I can see them with the magical vision?” JJ said to himself. He sat contemplating what he would see if he looked.

JJ had finished about half his glass of liquid courage when he started tempting himself with saying the spell. “How bad could it be?” He asked as he tried to recall all the words of the spell.

“Well, Arnie did tell me not to use the vision away from him, but he also didn’t know the full spell,” JJ said.

“Oh, ho, it's mister nothing,” JJ heard the voice of the homeless man said. JJ had sat facing the side entrance with his back to the front.

“Oh great, that's all I need to be chased out by a smelly homeless guy,” JJ said as he turned to see the guy walking into the bar area.

“If you’re not going to buy something you need to leave,” the bartender said from behind the protective barrier of the bar.

“My good friend Simon, here, will buy me a beer,” the guy said as he sat down in one of the other chairs at the tiny table.

“My name is not … “ JJ started to say. Wait, I know you,” he said, and then it dawned on him that the homeless guy was Peter from his dreams.

“I only have a few minutes before his attention is back on me, and I have to retreat into the insanity. Do you remember me now?” Peter asked.

“No, but I’ve seen you in my dreams,” JJ said. “Your name is Peter? Right?” JJ asked.

“Yes, it is. You are having dreams of me?” Peter asked.

“Yes, I have dreams that we are in the desert, and we are doing something with white rocks,” JJ said.

“Only dreams? That’s disappointing. I was hoping that I had stopped his spell. Arrrggg!!” Peter said, then interrupted himself with an exclamation of pain. “I can’t hold him back much longer. You need to find a way to rid me of him or push him ba …. Ahhhhhhh!” With the scream, Peter stood up, and his hands started doing the jerky movements that he was doing the first time JJ had seen him.

Two security guards who were big enough to play tackles for the NFL stepped up to the table on either side of Peter. “Sir, please come with us,” one of the guards said to him.

“Is this gentleman bothering you?” The other guard asked JJ.

“No, he was just going to sit and have a beer with me,” JJ said, trying to defuse the situation.

“I think he will be a distraction to the other patrons. If you would like to have a beer with him might I suggest an outdoor bar where his unique aroma will not linger,” one of the guards said.

“Sir, your taxi is here,” the valet said from the edge of the bar.

“Oh, Ok,” JJ responded.

“Help me, Simon … and you two can go … oofff” Peter was interrupted by the security giants yanking him up out of the chair.

“I would suggest you do not assist unless you want to find yourself in a backroom,” one of the guards said over his shoulder to JJ as he helped Peter to the door.

JJ watched them go out the front door with Peter swinging between them.

“They will just drop him off on the sidewalk at the property edge,” the valet said after seeing a look of concern on JJ’s face. “If he had been in here before causing a problem, they would have taken him to the back and shown him why it's a bad idea to trespass. He will be fine, maybe a couple of minor bruises on his arms from where they held him.”

The two guards were only gone a few minutes before they came back in, not looking ruffled in the least.

“If he is your friend, tell him that he won’t get a gentle escort out the next time he steps in the door here.” One of the two guards had veered off to tell JJ at the bar.

“Thank you. If I see him again, I will tell him. I really don’t know him, I just keep running into him,” JJ responded.

“Sir, your cab,” the valet said. “I have to go back out now. If you are not behind me, the driver will take someone else.”

“Right behind you,” JJ said, getting up to follow.