I didn’t go back to the house. The girls wanted to party, so I drove them out to Rosemont and got a hotel room near the casino. Then, I summoned Goose to be our Stepin Fetchit for booze and condoms and cocaine and anything else we needed to keep us f*****g, f****d up, and feeling no pain. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed there—time had no meaning in Rosemont—but it was daylight when I woke up alone with a head-splitting hangover to find a Polish woman in a housekeeper’s uniform standing over me.
“What day is it?” I croaked.
“Ehm, is Tuesday?” she said, discreetly averting her eyes from the fact that I was sprawled out n***d on the bed. “You want I should come back?”
I squinted at the wreck of the room, still struggling to put reality in focus. “No. Pretty sure my work here is finished.
