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ChapterThree
“The owner?” Autumn asks as we sit at the breakfast bar in our apartment, scarfing down leftover Chinese food.
“Yeah. He said both he and his brother owned the place.”
“But he was young?”
“I mean, younger than you’d expect a casino owner to be but older than me. He had a slight salt and pepper look. Maybe forty something.”
“I’m looking him up,” she says, snatching her phone.
I chew on my rice and wait.
A few minutes later, Autumn speaks up. “He said it was his brother who owned it with him?”
“Yeah.”
“I see Khalid King listed as an owner.” She shows me her phone. “You said this guy was Hispanic, no?”
I look at a photo of a very attractive Black man in a suit. He’s with an older gentleman at some casino function.
“Maybe they’re adopted brothers?”
“Or maybe he’s full of shit.”
“Luca’s the bartender, and he wasn’t concerned with the missing liquor bottles and lack of ten-thousand dollars in the register. He said it always gets taken care of.”
“Maybe…I don’t know.”
“Keep looking him up,” I say, pointing my fork at her phone.
“He’s forty-two,” she says, continuing to read. “That’s not—” She stops cold, her eyes scanning through an article while her fingertips touch her mouth. “Yeah, he’s the co-owner.”
“Okay, so he wasn’t lying,” I say, feeling relieved that I didn’t get manipulated.
“Yeah, but—”
“What’re y’all doing?” Noah asks, emerging from his room and strutting into the kitchen. He swipes Autumn’s fried rice box and gets a forkful, looking at her phone. “Are you Facebook stalking boyfriends again?”
Autumn scoffs. “That only happened twice. And no, Mariella ran into one of the owners of the casino today.”
Noah puts the food back down and takes her phone. “Vicente Moreno or Khalid King?” His eyes move to mine. “Which one did you talk to?”
“Vicente. Why?”
“You know who they are, right?”
“The owners of Ace’s High,” I state.
He inclines his head while raising his eyebrows and brings the phone to me so I can get a better look at the photo Autumn found. “Not just casino owners.”
My eyes drop to the screen. Both Vicente and Khalid are in the picture, but it was obviously taken by someone from a distance. It’s a small photo sandwiched between text. I read the article until it feels like my heart is going to jump out of my throat.
“They’re in the mafia?” I whisper. I scroll back up to the top of the page. “Wait. Vicente was in jail for extortion and Khalid was arrested for loan sharking? If they’re in the mafia, how can they own a casino? I’m confused.”
Noah snorts, walking around to the fridge. “The mob is notorious for having their fingers in casinos. It’s perfect for money laundering.”
“Who would let them own a casino if they’re criminals?”
