"When you stop and think about it, she's not that great of a liar. She told us that Montana took all the money we stole because we left him high and dry on the job. How could that be? She knows we didn't leave him high and dry on the job. The only person left high and dry was you. She said that Montana took all the money, but yet, all the money was right where you left it. None of it makes sense. We shouldn't have believed a word of it," Mandrake says as he chews on a mouthful of sunflower seeds.
"No, she's a perfect liar. She had a captive audience. She knows that we wanted to believe her, that's all a liar needs," Mint says. "She said things and we believed it because, well, what reason would she have to lie? She's our Mira, right? She's loved me for ages, why would she lie to me, right? Why would she try to trick us? She's all about the Murder Twins, she would never play us, right? Wrong."
"Wrong indeed," Mandrake mumbles.
"That's why we listened to things that didn't make sense. That's why we didn't second guess her. She's mystifying, Mandrake. There are women like that, the types that fuck your brain the moment their mouths open. That's Mira," Mint says as he maneuvers Mandrake's car, his posture relaxed. "It's okay though, I've learned my lesson. Trust me on that."
"I learned my lesson as well. I'm disappointed in her, " Mandrake says.
"Yeah well, to be honest I'm a little disappointed in you. You told your share of lies, pulled the wool over my eyes. I'm your brother, Mandrake."
"I figured you were still mad about Mikowski. I know it was wrong, she had me mystified like you said, Mint. I'd do whatever she told me to. Probably still would," Mandrake says as he dodges a swat from Mint. "I knew she'd hired him to take care of Montana, but when we started getting chased by his goons I figured that the job had gone bad. She wouldn't ever talk to me about it, really. And trust me, I had no clue she really knew him, knew him. I thought she just grabbed him to do the job."
"Well you should have told me that she'd hired him. He's a fucking psychopath. The type you can't figure out," Mint holds out his hand and Mandrake drops a pile of seeds into his hand. He chews and slows the car as he checks his GPS. "By the time Mira realizes who she's attached herself to it'll be too late. Looks like we're here," Mint says.
Delray has a place in the part of Vegas Mint had always dreamt of, where sage brush rolls and cacti cluster in the space between where his property ends and unbridled desert land begins. His house is expansive and stucco and has a courtyard with a fountain. Delray is a symbol of what they'd all dreamed of when they started all this in the first place. Living lavishly, relaxing pool side and throwing parties well stocked with every substance, liquid and warm body any person could desire.
Instead, they are living in hotel rooms, penthouse suites, but hotel rooms all the same. While fucking in down feather beds beneath heavy, ornate mirrors or before some priceless view of a sparkling city scape can sate the appetite of those craving a quiet life of leisure for a while, eventually the desire to sit down and actually enjoy the fruits of anxiety ridden acts of crime becomes all encompassing.
Right now, however, Mint is confident he is placing one foot fimly in the direction of self improvement. He's decided to trust Delray's word and try to go straight.
They take a seat in Delray's back patio with a woman he introduces as Mecca. She pours them drinks and they sip them as Delray moves about, chopping fruit and giving orders to his house staff. The chef remains in the sitting area with them. She is olive skinned and big breasted. She is sipping from a garish flask and staring openly at Mandrake, something on the tip of her tongue.
"You two need me to refresh your drinks?" Delray calls from the pool side bar. He is wearing day glow swimming trunks and a matching visor.
"I could use some more vodka in this tonic," Mandrake says rising to his feet and joining Delray at the bar. Mint watches the two men for a moment as Delray presents his selection of liquor and then he turns back to Mecca who uncrosses her legs and presents him with a view up her dress.
"Delray tells me you're really smart, that you have a degree."
"Oh, Delray told you that, huh?" Mint replies. He takes a sip of his drink which has plenty of vodka and casts Mecca a smile that he hopes is warm. "What else did Delray tell you about me?"
"Not much else, except that you were in jail not too long ago."
"Yo Delray, you tell Mecca all of my business or just the most important parts?" Mint asks. Delray barks a laugh.
"I know you and your brother are sharing that wild Mira chick. I met her once, actually," Mecca says.
"Oh yeah?" Mint says. He suddenly wants to leave, but knows that he must at least see where this is all going and doesn't want to let a chatty woman throw him off.
"He said that he shared a suite with you guys. Says the three of you kept him up all night long," Mecca says. She uses her teeth to pluck a cherry from its stem and spreads her legs wider.
"Delray, I really hope Mecca is just a friend, because if she's anything else you might want to know a few things," Mint says with his eyes on Mecca. She makes no move to shut her legs and crosses them only when Delray has settled himself into the couch beside Mint.
"Is Mecca not behaving herself?" Delray asks with a wink. "I have to admit I did tell her millions of stories about life under the employ of Montana Jones. She likes hearing all of those stories. Where is Mira, by the way?" Delray asks.
"Who the hell knows? She didn't come home last night and she's not answering her phone," Mint says. He stands and finds that he is not very steady on his feet. He pours himself another drink anyway, and lets his mind wander as he looks out over the sparkling blue water of Delray's pool. His mind doesn't wander far, however, and lands where it always does, on Mira.
"Man, that's a bummer. Hope she's alright. Should we go find her?" Delray asks.
"I know with every fiber of my being that at this moment she doesn't want to be found," Mint says. "Besides, we have slightly more pressing issues to address. Be straight with me, can you really help me out?"
Mecca pulls a crystal flask from her purse, retrieves shot glasses from the bar and pours each of them a shot of whatever the flask contains. "We can do what you need," Mecca says.
"She have something to do with this?" Mandrake asks as he picks up his shot glass and sniffs it.
"I should say so, she's going to be doing all the legwork for this little project. She is sleeping with the man who manages the FBI's Master Criminal Database."
"Is that so?" Mandrake says.
