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“Kiki—”
“No, Dad,” I said, without turning around, one hand already on the door knob. “I’ve got debts to pay.”
I walked out of the house and back into the night.
CHAPTER 6
Tate
THIS ROOM hadn’t changed in probably fifty years.
The walls were lined with oil portraits of the original Vegas founders, each whiter than the last. There was also a bar that ran the length of one of the walls, white marble with gold fixtures, filled with the finest alcohol that money could buy. At last count, the most expensive bottle clocked in at fifty thousand.
In the center was a vast oak table the size of a small ship, around which were positioned some twenty-odd red velvet chairs. It was like the set dressing of the Industrial Revolution, which was fitting because around the table sat the men who most closely resembled our generation’s approximation of robber barons.
This was the top-secret room where the heads of the top casinos in Vegas were meeting to conduct what I estimated to be some of the most underhanded business humanly possible, and it was apparently my turn to host the gathering held every month at a different location. It was considered a great honor to host the event, and I’d forgotten. These “captains of industry” fixed prices, evaded taxes, and funded drug cartels as needed. In short, they were a motley collection of the worst sorts of men to be had on this planet. And yes, to no one’s surprise, they were all men.
I mean… I guess I mean we. Doesn’t feel right, though. Technically I go along with their decisions, sure, but that’s just because I don’t want to become overly involved in any given matter. That would be dangerous, to dip my toes in too far. It was better to just vote with the majority and keep my head down. That way I take no responsibility for anything, and thus, incur no guilt for the inevitable fall out for the group’s actions. It’s just simpler this way.
But for however much I tried to divorce myself from their decisions, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of self-disgust as I settled into my customary armchair.
My mind went to Kiki. What would she think of this gathering and of my involvement? I could see her righteous anger now, the way she’d browbeat me for being so cavalier about the future of the town and its inhabitants. She’d tell me that, whether I liked it or not, I played a part in whatever dirty decisions went down between these walls.
Okay, I was spinning out, I know that. I’d met this girl, what, two hours ago? I certainly hadn’t known her long enough to get her opinions on inter-city politics and financial practices. She wasn’t my fucking Jiminy Cricket. So why did it feel like she was sitting on my shoulder and sighing in disappointment?
I thought of her, a young woman who was just trying to bring in some money for her family. It was a dirty job, but an honorable one. And here I sat, angry that I had to be involved in the very legacy that had left me with boatloads of cash, yet too chicken to get the fuck out of town and put this soiled money in my rearview.
Leaning across the table, I grabbed a snifter of fine brandy and brought it to my lips. Ah, that was better. If I couldn’t extricate myself from the situation — and I couldn’t, not really — then I might as well get tipsy. It’d worked for my dad well enough. My only goal was to get through the meeting without having to interact with any of these swine. While they hobnobbed around the table, I stared into the brown depths of my glass and wished for a swift end.
At the head of the table sat Kenneth, the council leader by dint of being the most senior. It was simpler that way. When the position was given based on age, there could be no under-the-table bribing or playing of politics. Kenneth ran the Mustang, a tourist trap casino at the end of the Strip, and you got the sense that he’d seen every variation of evil that humanity could dream up. This vibe didn’t really accord with his petite frame and tortoiseshell glasses, but hey, grizzled experience wears no universal mask.
“Let’s bring this meeting to order,” he said, his voice quiet.
Kenneth didn’t need volume. The men who had been chatting around the table fell immediately silent as a sign of respect.
“Right then,” he began. “First up on the docket — Ralph, I believe you have data on an undercover FBI sting, is that right?”
Ralph, the head of Garden of Eden and two off-Strip casinos, nodded and launched into a tactical breakdown of the government agents who’d been infiltrating casinos in search of scams. The room found this very amusing. After almost a century of naughty doings, Vegas was impossible to fell. Even our government didn’t stand a chance.
