The Voting Machine

Moonlight and Phoenix

The next day, Luke picked me up at the motel in an ancient-looking, gold Camaro with dents in the both fenders.

"I want to tell you my idea," he said. "Let me know what you think."

Luke seemed excited to have a sounding board. He reminded me of guys I grew up with; guys who could've been smart and done anything except everyone always told them they were stupid from day one. So they ended up believing it and went on to lead stupid lives. Or maybe at the last minute they realized they weren't so stupid after all. By that time it was too late and so many doors had already closed. Luke was another wanderer, another outcast, roaming through life searching for a door that hadn't already slammed shut.

We stopped by Luke's sister's house where he lived, near the intersection of Owens and Pecos Avenue. It was a ranch bungalow situated on a wide grass lot at the end of a gravel driveway.

Pam Dust was smoking a cigarette in the entrance next to her young son.

As we walked up to the house, I realized she was yelling at the boy about something, pointing at a hole in his pant leg.

"Jimmy, I told you not to wear those jeans!"

"These are my favorite," the boy protested.

"The knee's ripped wide open," she said. "You ain't going to summer school in no ripped clothes. They already think we's no good, Jimmy. They already think we's North Vegas white trash. And they already think you's stupid, that's why they put you in summer school."

"I ain't stupid, Mom."

She snuffed out the cigarette. "I know that, Son. But you got to worry about how people see you from the outside. They gonna try to put you down and you can't let 'em. They tried to tell me I wasn't nothing but look at me now. I am dealing for the richest men in the world."

"That's cause you the best, Ma," Jimmy said.

"Appearances matter. You don't see me going down to the Babylonian in ripped jeans and a T-shirt."

"I hear ripped jeans is the latest fashion," Luke said, passing by, playfully jabbing Jimmy in the shoulder. "The teachers give you extra points."

"Don't give the boy any more ideas," Pam said, rolling her eyes.

"I always wore ripped jeans to school," Luke said, laughing.

"Look how you ended up," she replied. "You going to take care of Moonlight and Phoenix, ain't ya?"

"Of course."

"I am going to sell 'em if you don't."

"I take better care of them than myself."

"That ain't saying much," she said, looking me over. "Who's this?"

"This here's Temo McCarthy. He's working with Mr. Stone on the Salinger campaign. I am gonna sign up some of my friends to vote in the election."

"Your friends ain't gonna vote. They can't even read the ballot."

"How about you?" I asked her. "We have your vote for Salinger?"

"Hell no," she said. "I ain't getting involved in that stuff. Mr. Perlson wants all the workers in the casino voting Republican if they vote at all. He better not find anyone on staff working with unions or the Democrats."

"That guy's an ass," Luke said, grabbing a cigarette from his sister's pack.

"He's an ass who's paying my salary, which is putting a roof over your head," she said.

When Pam and her son drove off in her blue Nissan Pathfinder, Luke led me around the tiny house they shared to a fenced pasture. Two beautiful horses grazed. The first was milky white with vivid eyes and a long, flowing mane. I guessed this was Moonlight based on the color.

The second horse was chestnut with white spots. Phoenix was smaller than the first horse but his legs looked even more powerful. They had the strength and elegance of thoroughbreds I'd seen at the races in Santa Anita as a kid.

"You're so lucky to have horses right here in the city!"

"A few people keep 'em out in this neighborhood. The city don't mind so long you keep 'em contained."

"I guess you ride."

"Of course. I'm a cowboy at heart, Temo. Me and Pam grew up around horses. This is the West. Or it used to be anyway."

He led me to a stable at the back of the lot. He explained his idea to me while he filled the trough with fresh water and set out fresh straw for bedding.

"So I was thinking, I gather lots of friends from underground and get them to vote," Luke said.

"They're going to need ID. They're going to need an address."

"I figured we could use the clinic. Annabelle sets up temporary housing for addicts anyway. We could do the whole sign-up process at the clinic."

The chestnut-colored stallion came into the stable.

"I took him off a ranch when he was just a yearling. He had an accident and they were going to shoot him. They thought he'd never amount to anything. That's why I called him 'Phoenix.' He was given up good as dead and now he's the most powerful horse you ever seen. I was given up for dead in a sense. Nobody thinks I am going to accomplish anything the rest of my life. My sister loves me but she believes I am useless, just like everybody else. I am going to prove them all wrong. I am going to show them I still got things I can contribute."

"Everybody deserves a second chance."

"You think they'll let me vote?"

"What was the sentence? You get a murder count?"

"No, they knocked it down to voluntary manslaughter. There were several witnesses who said the guy demanded my money and fired a gun at me. I responded and I was a better shot. I killed him with one bullet."

"You might have to take it to the court," I said. "You might have to convince a judge to restore your voting rights."

"Well, even if they don't let me vote, I can still help other people with my idea about using the clinic, right?"

"Maybe. I am sure the Founding Fathers will make a big stink if we sign up drug addicts."

"I know those guys," Luke said. "They come to the clinic sometimes and try to raise a fuss. Then they have those militia guys in the black uniforms and the pickup trucks."

"The Midnight Riders."

"That's right. Most of those guys are former dealers. They just white trash like me trying to pretend they's patriots. Some of those assholes are still dealing. I know a couple of them went to jail for hurling a rock at that Arab gal down on Flamingo. But the other ones are still out there. They go out at night and beat up the homeless guys some time. They sent one to the emergency room last month with cracked ribs. That's why everyone is going underground."