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But she was scraping up every last second of free time she had until then. All day, she had been running errands, cooking, cleaning, and helping out her parents. She had brought them groceries and assisted with some chores around their place once her own small apartment was taken care of. Kira delicately picked up a cheese curl with her pinky and thumb and dropped it into her mouth. She held out her hands in front of her, scrutinizing her paint job. Her fingernails were trimmed to a modest length that wouldn’t get in her way carrying trays and serving up cocktails for guests at the casino. They were rounded almond shapes and perfectly lacquered scarlet with a tinge of sparkle to it. They looked fantastic, but it was unusual to see such a vivid, unapologetic color on her nails.
All her life, Kira had stuck to more neutral pinkish tones, if she ever did paint her nails. It was just something she’d learned from her mother growing up. Pink was less noticeable. It drew less unwanted attention. Pink was demure, a little innocent.
Red nail polish was a siren’s call. A bright red target. One of her earliest memories was of painting her nails with her mom as a tiny girl. Back then, she’d had to rely on her mother’s adult dexterity to do it for her. She’d asked her mother why they never wore red nails, and she had explained that red was dangerous. Kira was always told that it had been the spike of criminal activity in their local region that spurred her parents to emigrate to America when Kira was just a toddler. Her parents didn’t talk much about that time. They’d wanted Kira to have a fresh start when they moved, so they had left everything behind, including memories. All Kira could get her mom to say was that, back home, bad guys used red nail polish as a means of ‘marking’ or branding their trafficked women and girls. It was a signature, a calling card.
The red polish was a warning to the women themselves, too. It was a reminder of the blood they would have on their hands if they dared rebel against the men’s orders. Their families and friends were threatened. The women were coerced into doing what they were told, breaking the law and putting themselves at risk. Her mother recalled with horror the way it had felt to pass by a thin, desperate-looking woman with red nails on the street. It had made her stomach hurt to think about the lives they must have led. So she’d taught her daughter to stick with pink, even many years and thousands of miles away from the danger.
But Kira thought that by now, it was high time to try out a nice red. The shade matched her black and red casino uniform perfectly. She blew gently on her nails to help dry them and turned the page of her romance novel.
It was the end of a riveting chapter, full of twists and turns and flirtatious banter. On the shelves along the wall, many similar books were arranged in alphabetical order by the author’s name. Kira had already read them all from cover to cover multiple times. Nowadays, she was supplementing her personal collection with books from the library. Tonight’s romance was one such borrowed book, so Kira took extra care not to get any red nail polish on the page. Her bright blue eyes were wide as she eagerly read the final page of the chapter. A smile crept across her pretty face as the main characters almost kissed, but didn’t. Kira was a little disappointed, but now she had a spicier chapter to look forward to once she got off work that night.
She reluctantly shut the book and hopped up off the papasan chair. Kira was already dressed for the evening, thankfully, so she didn’t have to worry about smudging her nails on a zipper or button. All she had to do was slip into her work heels, pat some tinted balm on her lips, and swing her purse over her shoulder. Keys jangling in her hand, she swished out the door to drive to the casino for her evening shift.
It was Saturday night, and the Strip was glowing like an ember. Kira was relieved to have a designated parking lot, since it was damn near impossible to find street parking at this hour. She parked at the back of the lot and began the trek to the back door. As always, Kira ignored the catcalls. She stared straight ahead with her head held high. Her mind was elsewhere anyway, thinking about the male lead of her romance book. The description reminded her of Mr. Muscles. Even though they were nothing alike, Kira couldn’t help but compare every young, viable bachelor to him. No matter how many times she insisted that they were just acquaintances, she knew the truth. Every time she clocked in for work, she hoped she would see him hanging around. She lived for their playful conversations. He lightened the mood and made the hours tick by faster. Kira felt giddy just at the thought of running into him tonight. That would be the highlight of her shift, as usual.
She was feeling quite light on her feet as she walked in through the back entrance. She hummed to herself as she put away her things in her locker, then continued out onto the casino floor to start working. She walked in with a smile on her face, but something about the main casino floor was off, and her smile instantly faded.
Her heart began to thump harder in her chest, and her hands became clammy. The air felt colder, sending goosebumps down her arms and legs. Kira was very attuned to the atmosphere of the casino. She could tell if it was going to be a good night just from the vibe in the air. After all, her tips depended on it, plus she needed to know when to get security involved or not. The decibel level of the noise, the number of people around; these were heightened senses for her. And as soon as she arrived, she could tell something was wrong.
There was usually an even scatter of noise throughout the casino floor between the conversations, laughter, rolling dice, flipping cards, and kingly slot machines. But even though it was fairly busy tonight, it was quiet enough that Kira could clearly hear every word of the music playing through the sound system. That was weird. And when she did hear people talking, it was mostly coming from the corner lounge. There was a group of men ranging from barely twenty to late forties. They were sprawled out, making themselves at home on the ritzy furniture underneath a stunning chandelier. There were empty liquor bottles and glasses strewn about, and a few of them were even smashed. The men’s boots and muddy sneakers crunched over shattered glass, grinding the sharp bits even deeper into the expensive rug. Kira remembered Lily telling her during their first walkthrough together that it was an heirloom piece from the owner’s family.
The guys were dressed very simply in street clothes. Their clothes were not expensive, nor were they in particularly good condition. Some of them proudly wore stained, wrinkly clothes that were a jarring contrast to the luxury surrounding them. And yet, when Kira looked closer, she noticed a few elements that seemed at odds with their humble outfits. Each one of them had a shiny ring, wristwatch, or gold chain that stood out. Kira got the sense that these men were new money, not quite sure how to spend their cash yet. Judging from the number of cocktail glasses and booze bottles littering the corner lounge, the guys had just enough money to be trouble for the casino.
Another thing that stood out to her—and to many of the other guests who kept glancing over at the corner lounge with confusion—was that the men were speaking in a combination of English and… Russian? Kira’s had parents never taught her much Russian growing up, so it was more of an educated guess on her part. Her mother always said that their memories of Russia were so fuzzy and unpleasant, it was better to leave them across the ocean. So Kira had to surmise from context clues what language they were using, and she couldn’t exactly pinpoint any specific words. Something about their tone made her uneasy, though. The men were laughing and joking around with each other, but then they would also lower their voices to whisper conspiratorially. Like they were plotting something. They clearly did not care who they disturbed with their noisy display. They weren’t embarrassed or ashamed to be noticed. In fact, Kira even saw one of them make a threatening gesture at a few other guests when they stared for too long. Right now, they were smiling, but something told Kira it wouldn’t take much to draw their anger.
She carefully wove through the room to the serving station, where Lily was angrily stacking dishes. She glanced up at Kira with a sour look on her face that didn’t budge.
“Hey,” she said simply.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Kira asked in a low voice.
“I’m fine,” she lied, nearly smashing the dishes together.
Kira was surprised. Lily was a seasoned cocktail waitress; it took a lot to get her worked up. But her energetic coworker actually had angry tears in her eyes.
“Hey, seriously. What happened? Can I help?” Kira offered.
Lily’s chin trembled like she might break for a second, but she quickly recovered.
“I said I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Just… be careful out there. We’ve got some real fucking winners on the floor tonight,” Lily groaned.
The floor supervisor appeared with his clipboard before Kira could ask any further questions. He tapped Lily on the shoulder and assigned her to a newly filled poker table on the other side of the room. Lily hastily piled up their orders and rushed away, muttering, “Anyone but those idiot drunks in the corner.”
Kira did her best to avoid that corner, too. She ducked around, bringing drinks to people at the slot machines and trying to ignore the increasing volume of the debauchery. She avoided eye contact with them, even positioning herself so that she was rarely facing their direction. She served everyone in their vicinity while keeping as much distance as possible. But finally, she heard them calling to her. She ignored it for as long as she could, but once they started loudly calling her ‘Fishnets,’ she decided to take one for the team.
Kira fixed a smile to her face, which didn’t reflect her true feelings at all. She walked up to the group, her stomach churning. She recognized that glassy-eyed, slack-jawed look. Every one of these guys was drunk. Their eyes rolled up and down her body. They leaned in to whisper to each other, waggling their bushy eyebrows and nudging one another in the ribs. They made plenty of sideways comments in Russian, but she knew it was all about her.
“Good evening. I hope you’re all enjoying your time here at the Shining Star. Is there anything I can get for you to make your stay even more perfect tonight?” Kira greeted them with her usual rigamarole.
“You can sit down right here,” said one of the men, slapping his lap with both hands and then making grabby hands at her. Kira forced herself to smile instead of wince.
“I’m just fine right here, thanks. Would you like a refill on your drinks?” she went on.
“Damn. Red hair, blue eyes, perfect skin, perky tits… Turn around so I can see the ass you’re working with,” said a man who was leaning back in his chair with both arms draped over the back. He wore a black beanie tugged down over his forehead and an oversized jacket with the collar folded up to hide his neck and jawline. He had a pack of Winston reds barely showing in his front breast pocket.
Kira ignored his demand. She did not appreciate having her physical traits listed like stats on a resume. Like ingredients for a cake. The men leered at her. A couple of them even made half-hearted swipes at her with their grimy paws. But she was trying to keep calm. She reminded herself that she needed this job; people depended on her.
“Sir, is there anything I can do for you, or should I leave you to it?” Kira asked. She was pushing the edge of her own politeness by now.
