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“That went well,” Becky says, taking a deep breath, but I can tell she’s shy about me seeing inside her old apartment.
“It was only ever supposed to be temporary,” she sighs, pushing the door open as I glance around, my worst suspicions confirmed.
A sofa bed, an old TV, shitty fridge, and even shittier A/C that must be included in the deluxe deal she got.
“Get your things,” I tell her, taking a moment to squeeze her by the shoulders.
Not blaming her for having at least somewhere to stay. She’s done her best, and I can see she’s kept the place clean.
Immaculate compared to the rest of the building, the whole street, and that city beyond it. Festering like a sore, swallowing up the good in the world while the scum always seems to rise to the top.
“It’s just clothes mainly,” Becky says. Almost tearing up again until I remind her.
“You’re coming home with me, every day from now on. So no more tears about this place. It brought you to me, it’s served its purpose.”
No pets or plants, just a few books and a couple of boxes of clothes and shoes.
My girl’s all moved out in under twenty, giving us plenty of time to get her settled back home before we both have to head back to work.
A bite on the way makes sure she’s sustained but does little for the real appetite she’s stirred in me.
Walking in the front door of the club to escort her in, I’m met by and rebuked by Marco, who’s obviously sore he lost his promotion working in the back.
“The hell you coming in this way for?” he snaps, my brow cocking a question of its own as he backs down.
“You two sure are tight all of a sudden,” he murmurs, noticing me take a moment to remind Becky I’m here and I’ll be keeping an eye on her as well as things in the back.
“And then we’ll be home,” I tell myself, already counting the minutes. Trying not to get hard at the thought of her all to myself but failing. Not caring if the whole world can see what she does to me.
Hoping like hell I can get some dirt on Sawyer and the probation office.
Wishing it was the prick who double-crossed me I could really snare.
Becky’s lips pull into a smile, her real smile before the work one lights up her face.
Her smile just for me.
It’s not long before I’m reunited with our boss, with his real operation too. The extent of it makes a part of my mind swim.
It’s a full scale illegal casino, no other words for it.
No mob boss or payoffs, just one man and a dream, and enough sway over certain people to keep it all watertight quiet.
Before he even speaks though, before we even get somewhere quiet enough, I’ve already started recording him on my cell phone tucked in my top pocket.
Another phone camera on my hip, a relic from the earliest days of security surveillance but unnoticed in a place like this.
“I need you here on the main floor tonight, Dillon… Bit of a group coming in with a lot of dough. I need to show some muscle in case any of them think of cheating me,” he adds grimly.
Nice to know I’m appreciated.
“Stay on the back door until I let you know, then move to the gaming tables,” he instructs me.
I ask a few basic questions, about his gaming license and the taxes he must pay. His sarcastic roar of laughter is a good start for the kind of evidence I need.
“A comedian too, eh? Just do what you’re told, Dillon. You need this job, remember,” he says, twisting his lip into a cruel smile.
Yeah, I need it just long enough to work my way back to being my own boss.
My reflex is to ask if he knows Matt, my old business partner, but I bite my tongue.
This seems like the kind of place he’d come if he was flush with someone else’s money. But who knows what the man does in his spare time?
There must be a dozen clubs like this one on the block, and Matt would be a useful catch in a place like this but also a needle in the proverbial haystacks.
My next thought is about Becky. Not wanting her left unattended tonight, I’ll have to pick and choose my moments.
Bathroom breaks or something where I can make sure I check in on her from time to time.
Sawyer wasn’t bluffing, and there are more people in the back than I could have imagined possible before I manage to slip away for a moment, making a beeline for Becky.
Marco’s busy toying with one of the Barbie waitresses, and I slip behind the bar just long enough to ask Becky how she’s doing.
“Busy, but meh,” she sighs, her eyes smoldering into mine in the smoked mirrors behind the bar.
