Vegas Bad Boy

Vegas is a city of dreams, or so they say. It’s not for those of us who call it home.

“Are you deaf? I said put two hundred on Black!”

I blink myself awake and wince when the crick in my neck sends a pulse of pain through to my shoulder. The side of my arm is red from rubbing against the green velvet atop the roulette table.

The harsh ringing of the slot machines to my right is making my head pound, and the bright white light of the casino’s ceiling doesn’t help me make head or tail of what time it is.

Heck, I don’t even know if the sun is up or down outside.

It’s deliberate, of course. The whole place is designed to keep patrons from thinking about how much money they’re losing and for how long.

On instinct, I scan the casino floor to make sure he’s nowhere in sight, doing the one thing he promised not to do anymore.

The blackjack tables are looking pretty bare, which is good and bad. Dad’s not losing more money, but it also means I’m still early in my shift.

Movement draws my eye to the enormous blackened window above them and at the back of the room.

It’s the security office where the owner likes to monitor the cameras to make sure no one is cheating in any of the games or up to anything funny.

I can’t see much, but the light hanging from the room’s center casts a silhouette over the glass pane, and I know it can only be the owner, Vinny.

No one else even comes close to being so big. Surely, the man would have been an NFL superstar if he hadn’t been born into the Markizo family.

The shadow is facing my direction squarely. Either he’s got his back to the floor or he’s looking in my direction.

“Jesus, lady, are you gonna take any bets today, or do you need me to sing you a lullaby?”

The man at the table is a walking, talking cliché: a ten-gallon hat, gold-rimmed shades, and a dark shirt with buttons that look like they’re about to pop under the weight of his fat rolls.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

“Apparently, I’m boring your gal here,” the cowboy says, flicking the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Saw fit to take a nap on the job instead.”

“Is that so?” Carlos comes to stand by my side. His heavy cologne tastes stale in my mouth, and I swallow to keep myself from hurling over the chips in front of me.

“Care to explain yourself, Sid?” My boss runs his fingers up the diagonal space on my back.

I focus on my hand on the table. It twitches, but I manage to withhold from slapping the false look of concern on Carlos’s face.

I shift a little to the left, just far enough to be out of reach. “Two hundred on Black, right?” I lean over, grab the cowboy’s chips, and place them in the correct spot.

“No, no, come on, now,” the cowboy says. “Your boss asked you a question.”

“We’ve talked about this, Sid. You can work a hundred jobs if that’s what you need to pay for your shitty apartment, but if you keep coming to work tired, you know what I’m gonna have to do.”

The cowboy elbows the woman in the seat next to him. “Ha, watch this. We’re gonna see this gal lose her job. Maybe I’ve got a little luck left after all.”

Carlos steps closer to me again. So close, I can feel his stubble on my ear lobe.

“Or…,” he whispers, “you could come to my office like we talked about. Beg for your job as you lie across my desk.”

His fingers are on my back again, sliding over the base of my spine. When they landed on my ass, he squeezes. Hard.

Before I can take hold of the roulette table to stop myself, my hand flies up and across Carlos’s face. “Get your goddamn hands off me, you creep!”

As Carlos turns his gaze back to me, I see the fake look of worry he was sporting has well and truly disappeared. His dark, unblinking eyes drill into mine.

“Oh, Sid, now you’ve really gone and done it.” He reaches up and catches my wrist in a tight grip, twisting the skin. “Come with me!”

Again, he pushes himself against me to whisper in my ear. “I’m gonna teach that ass a lesson until it’s as red as the carpet in this casino.”

For a moment, I feel my eyes open wide with fear, but the cowboy’s insufferable guffaw sends me over the edge.

I stomp on Carlos’s polished shoe until I hear a crack. When he hisses through clenched teeth and grabs his leg, I lift the tray of chips with both hands and smack him over the head.

The chips scatter across the table, bouncing and rolling in all directions. One even strikes the sunglasses of the cowboy, whose toothpick has fallen from his open mouth.

The woman next to him scrambles to pocket as many chips as she can before scurrying off.

“You little bitch!” Carlos nurses his cheek with one hand while reaching for me with the other. “You’re gonna pay for—”

“What is going on here?”

Carlos stills, and so do I. Even the sound of the slot machines seems to quieten out of respect. Or fear.

Looking over my shoulder at whoever is standing behind me, I see Carlos gulp.

“Mr. Markizo, sir,” Carlos says, almost whimpering, “it’s nothing. Just a little disciplinary action. This croupier was sleeping on the job, now she’s lost her mind.” He sneers at me. “And her job.”

I turn slowly, already knowing I need to lean back and lift my eyes to look up at the immense man who has, nevertheless, managed to sneak up behind me.

“Mr. Markizo, I… I’m so sorry. I’ll get changed and leave at once.”

He’s undeniably handsome, with jet-black hair, brown eyes, and a strong jawline shadowed by stubble. His muscular build is clear, and I can see tattoos peeking out from under his shirt.

He’s also utterly terrifying.

“You’re Sidney Collins, yes?” His deep voice vibrates the very air around us, sending tremors into my chest, down through my stomach, and—

I shut my eyes tightly and nod.

“Your father is Robert Collins?”

“Collect your things, leave your uniform in the locker room, and meet me out front in ten minutes.”

“Y-yes, sir.” I want to tell him and everyone else in this ostentatious hellhole to shove their fists up their own asses, but I bite my tongue.

Las Vegas isn’t called Sin City just for the glitz and glamour of the casinos and the seedy strip clubs. There’s a darker side to Vegas—one that’s riddled with Mafia and loan sharks.

And Vinny Markizo and his family operate at its dark, beating heart.

“Should’ve never hired you in the first place,” Carlos mumbles from behind me. “Been useless from day one. But couldn’t resist getting a look at those tits in that top she’s—”

“You’ll be packing up your desk and moving on, as well, Carlos.” Vinny steps around me before positioning himself between Carlos and me.

“S-sir?” The blood drains from Carlos’s face in an instant.

Vinny clenches his fists at his sides until his knuckles crack. The movement makes the tendons in his thick forearms flex. “Management is forbidden from fraternizing with the staff.”

He leans in, towering over Carlos, who has to step back. “And that’s not to mention the sexual harassment.”

“Sex…sexual harassment?”

Vinny points over his shoulder at the window to the security office. “I see everything in here, Carlos. Everything.

“You’ve disrespected Sidney, disrespected this casino, and disrespected me, and I don’t tolerate disrespect.

“You have twenty minutes to pack up your things and be gone. Otherwise”—Vinny nods to the side where one of his regular goons is pulling dark gloves on—“Angelo will show you the back alley.”

Carlos’s eyes shift from Vinny to Angelo to me and then back to Vinny. “But she…she was… God dammit, you little bitch. You’ll pay for this.”

Carlos spits on the floor and starts walking across the casino toward the red velvet curtains that shield customers’ eyes from the staff entrance.

Once he is far enough away, Carlos turns back and raises his middle fingers. “I’ll show you disrespect, Markizo. Just you wait!”

Angelo starts toward him, and Carlos quicksteps through the curtains.

Once more, Vinny clenches his fists, cracks his knuckles, then shakes them until his fingers hang free.

I half expect him to have a smile on his young, hard face, but when our eyes find each other, I see how wrong I am.

He doesn’t say anything and just looks me up and down, his expression giving nothing away.

For a moment, I fear I’ve exchanged one creep for another. Vinny might be easier on the eyes, but at least with Carlos, I would have a chance of fighting him off and escaping.

Vinny is a man-mountain. If he wants to…do things to me, there’ll be no stopping him.

“Outside in ten minutes, Ms. Collins. I’ll be in the car.”

He steps toward me. I want to step back but I am rooted to the spot, fear causing my legs to turn to stone.

Vinny leans in until his lips are next to my ear. Does he inhale deeply? I can’t be sure of anything right now. I mustn’t assume anything. Mustn’t do anything to upset him.

His breath is warm…soothing…

“Do not make me wait.”