The one and only time I will ever tuck a drunken
mob wife into bed to save a US Marshal.
“Have you ever met Mr. Bigg?” asked Johnny the Valet. I hadn’t.
“He’s big time organized crime in LA, comes up every now and then and he’s a good friend of our boss. You can’t miss him, very buff, always dripping in bling, drives a tricked-out Escalade, and if he likes you he generally tips in hundreds.”
I’d been working at the resort for almost a year as a security guy and Manager-On-Duty, and somehow I’d just missed this “Mr. Bigg” fellow. Johnny said that he’d been up a month earlier but he only stayed one night, so I think it was one of my nights off.
I usually change names and places for a story if I need to protect the privacy of someone, and this story will be no different except that I’m changing names and being purposefully vague on certain aspects more to protect myself from getting whacked by the mob, rather than just keeping things private. This account is entirely non-fiction and it’s something I’m not even that comfortable writing up today, even though a decade has passed.
Johnny said that if you get on Mr. Bigg’s good side, he was known to stuff a hundred dollar bill into your shirt pocket and slap you on the back. I asked what happens if you got on his bad side. Johnny said he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to know, because the one thing he DID know is that Mr. Bigg was the type of guy who had people working for him, and they could be brutal and very proficient at the art of smashing kneecaps.
I’d kept that conversation in mind but I wasn’t thinking about it a few months later when I got a call to the poolside bar at the hotel due to a guest acting up and giving the bartender a hard time.
I arrived to find one of the most stunningly beautiful women I’d ever seen, in a bikini, a little tipsy and complaining that the bartender wouldn’t let her 19-year-old daughter sit at the bar with her. She was in a great mood and not in the least bit upset, but she was willing to push the matter and she wasn’t letting her daughter walk away.
Photo by Alberto Stragapede on Pexels.com
I introduced myself and we had a chat. She told me her name was Jackie and her daughter was Jessica, and that they’d been coming to this resort for a long time because her husband was a big businessman who has spent a lot of money here and dammit, surely we could make an exception concerning her daughter sitting at the bar? She told me Jessica was having virgin drinks, so that would be okay, right?
I asked her if her husband and our boss, Mr. Stern, were friends. She said they’d been friends and business partners for a long time, so I asked her why she would want to get Mr. Stern in trouble. She asked what I meant.
“Well,” I said, “If some authority comes in here on an inspection, or some local or state law-enforcement official, they could see Jessica sitting here – alcohol or not – and slap a big fine on the hotel because it’s against state law for minors to be seated at the bar, simply put. Now, I’m sure you’re an awesome lady and I know you don’t want Mr. Stern to have to pay a big fine, right?”
She thought this over for a few seconds and then said, “Oh hell, no I don’t. Okay Jessica, take off.” Jessica said, “THANK YOU!” and headed for the hot tub over on the other side of the pool. She hadn’t wanted to stay in the first place, her mom was just drunk and being a little stubborn.
Jackie got a little flirty with me, which made me very uncomfortable, so after another five minutes or so of friendly conversation I excused myself to some duties that needed my attention. I had actually caught-up on everything I’d needed to do, but I wanted an excuse to distance myself from her, so I wandered out to the valet area in front of the hotel, figuring that she’d stay around the pool and bar area, so that way I could avoid her.
Johnny the valet was on-duty and he asked how my evening was going. I told him what had just happened, and he asked me to describe the woman. “Totally hot, her daughter is too, and I didn’t get her last name but she introduced herself as ‘Jackie.’ She said she and her husband are longtime associates of Mr. Stern and they come often.”
“DUDE!” Johnny looked like wombats had just flown out of my ass. “Do you remember a couple of months ago when I told you about Mr. BIGG? WELL, THAT’S HIS WIFE AND DAUGHTER.”
I felt a knot in my stomach. This was not something I wanted to know, but it was good for me to be aware of it, so there you have it. Johnny went on to admonish me to be careful, which he didn’t really have to do but I appreciated the concern.
Johnny said that he’d been told they had checked-in that morning, leaving Mr. Bigg down in LA for the weekend. He had intended to let me know when our shift started, but he hadn’t seen me until that moment.
To make it even more interesting, that week the resort was hosting a group of US Marshals who were in the area doing felony raids. They would be up and out by four-thirty each morning and were kicking in doors starting promptly at six, arresting bad guys on felony warrants. It was a sweep that the Marshal’s service did about once a year.
They’d returned at about four in the afternoon, as they’d done every day that week, and being a Friday I think that particular day had been the last day of their raiding, so they were in a partying mood and drinking around the pool area.
There were twelve of them ranging in age from about 25 to 40, and you wouldn’t know they were federal law enforcement once they got into relaxation mode around the pool. They were careful that no badges or anything showed to give away who they were, they just wanted to kick back and keep to themselves.
The marshals were hanging out in one particular corner of the pool area and Jackie was still at the pool bar while Jessica seemed to be enjoying the attention she was getting at the hot tub, in the company of several young male admirers, just as you’d expect. I had to walk by the pool bar a few times on my way to some tasks, and Jackie was engaged in conversation with a couple from Idaho. So far, so good.
She seemed to be behaving herself, but I noticed that the drinks just kept coming and it didn’t help that the guy from Idaho kept buying rounds, much to the obvious chagrin of his wife.
A few hours went by without incident, but Jackie had tried to flag me every time I’d walked by. “Dave, you have to come meet my new friends, this is Hank and Melba from Boise!” She threw her arms around my waist at one point and I couldn’t excuse myself fast enough.
“Nice meeting you folks, enjoy your stay! I have to go see to a guest, boy if it’s not one thing it’s another around here! See you later Jackie!” Then I’d hurry off.
The call I’d been dreading came at about 9:30 pm. I walked by the front desk and the young woman on duty told me the pool bar had just called and said that I’d better get over there as soon as possible.
When I arrived I didn’t see Jackie at the bar. The bartender saw me coming and pointed to the area where the US Marshals were hanging out, and there she was, sitting right on the lap of the best looking of the bunch, a guy who was maybe 32, with great tats and in great physical shape, but for that matter, they all were.
As I walked up she saw me and said, “Hey DAVE, have you met Eddie? This is my new friend, isn’t he handsome?” She’d flung her arms around his neck and was snuggling him, and the look on his face said he didn’t care for it one little bit.
By some miracle I talked her off his lap and convinced her it was time to go up to her room. So of course she threw her arms around MY neck and said, “lead the way, boss!”
So alla-sudden I was heading toward the rooms with a drunken bikini-clad hottie of a mob wife hanging on my neck, giggling and stumbling along in a half-stupor. Darned good thing I passed Chef Hector on the way up.
He was coming from the restaurant, and the dinner rush had just completed, so he was heading home.
“HECTOR! My god, I’m glad to see you! Give me a hand, eh?” It wasn’t so much an extra hand I needed, but a witness to how straight-up I was going to play this without anything shady going on that she might claim later. This resort wasn’t big enough to warrant a security team, so I was always the only one on duty. If I needed back-up for something, I’d tag a houseman, bellman or valet to go to a room with me just as an extra body/witness.
Hector saw the fix that I was in, and being the executive chef of the resort for many years, he recognized Jackie right away. “Hi Mrs. Bigg,” he said. “Oh hey Hector, “she replied, “bring a plate of fries to my room?” We told her the kitchen had closed but I assured her that if she continued letting me and Hector escort her to her room, I’d have something sent up for her to eat.
I was even mulling over calling up a local restaurant and having fries or something delivered to her room, if it’d keep her in there and out of trouble. Fortunately, I ended up not having to do that.
After a whole lot of falling down and giggling on her part, we managed to get her to her door and I used my master key-card to open it. The suite had a bedroom and she asked if I’d put her to bed. I told her I’d walk her as far as the bedroom door but then she was on her own.
Fortunately, she stumbled to the bed and plopped right down, groaning a little and complaining about how fast the room was spinning, so I threw a blanket over her and Hector and I stood at the door until we heard snoring, which came on surprisingly quick. We stepped out, I made sure the door was locked and then I sent Hector on his way after thanking him profusely.
While crossing back through the pool area, I stopped to inform Eddie the Marshal that she was out cold and wouldn’t be a problem, but to call me if by some miracle she got up and came back down there, then I visited the hot tub and asked Jessica to return to her room, since I had to close the hot tub area for the evening. In actuality I just wanted her to baby-sit her sleeping mom.
My next stop was Mr. Stern’s suite. He was a residential manager, who actually had a home in Los Angeles but the resort was about a two-hour drive up into the desert, so he’d often stay over. I normally wouldn’t bother him with guest problems that could wait until the morning report, but in this case I wanted everything out in the open and to make sure I was covered.
He listened with rapt attention, and he seemed especially pained when I got to the part about her flirting with that guy Eddie, not knowing he was a US Marshal. “Okay David, I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I have no problem with how you handled that, thank you.”
The rest of the night continued without event until my relief came in at midnight. I told him the whole story and since he too had been employed at the resort for many years, all he had to say was, “Well, better you than me, Dave, I don’t want to go anywhere near that lady when she’s been drinking, her husband scares the hell out of me.”
The next day I arrived for the same shift at 4 pm and Johnny the valet told me that Jackie and her daughter had abruptly checked-out that morning. It seems Mr. Stern placed a call to Mr. Bigg in Los Angeles and told him of his wife’s antics, flirting with hotel staff and US Marshals. I’d imagine none of that sat well with Mr. Bigg, especially the last part.
Jackie and Jessica had intended to stay through Monday morning, but they abruptly checked-out early on Saturday and the valet on duty had told Johnny she looked like a hung-over, whipped puppy. Mr. Bigg must have really gotten on her case.
A few hours into my shift I passed Eddie the US Marshal in a hallway and tossed him a greeting with a friendly nod. He stopped me and looked around to make sure we were alone.
“Hey uh, Dave, is it?”
“Yes sir, what’s up?”
“Just wanted to say thanks for taking care of that drunk lady last night, man… she was a piece of work. I almost went up to her room but she was too drunk and I didn’t want to take advantage, plus my boss was right there and it would have been bad form, but I came close… damn, she was drop dead gorgeous!”
I agreed with him on her looks, and then, although I shouldn’t have, I asked him if he knew who she was.”
“Well no, just some drunk tourist, right?”
I wouldn’t have told him if she’d still been there, but she and her daughter had checked out hours ago, so I asked him if he was familiar with “Mr. Bigg,” in the Los Angeles area. Remember, I’ve done some name changing here, so it was kind of like mentioning John Gotti, Al Capone or Tony Soprano.
He said that of course he knew who Mr. Bigg was. So I told him, “That was his wife.”
He turned a bit pale and looked uneasy.
“Damn, I’m really glad I didn’t go up there now, I’d be a dead man.”
“But you’re a US Marshal! Really? That guy could, uh…. (I wasn’t sure how to put it)… get to you?”
I’ve never forgotten his answer.
“That guy could put a hit on me and I’d never see it coming. Those type of fellows are very good at what they do, they’d bury me in the desert out here and I’d never be found.”
He gave me a lite punch on the shoulder and a nod as he walked away, and since that time I have been perfectly happy having never seen Jackie or her daughter again. I’m also glad I haven’t worked at that resort for a bunch of years now. I don’t miss it one itty, bitty bit.
