Endz Casino & Resort

by Ben Larracey

  DeLeo watched himself as he first exited Endz Casino, a look of confusion on his face. He wondered if that same look was on his face now. He changed the channel. It was the after party from the courtyard below. Sadie, John, Chip they were all there. Laughing.

  Rage shot through his system like an electrical surge. Frozen to the TV screen, he couldn’t change the channel. DeLeo turned up the sound. The whole cast was there, standing by the bar, cleaned up and dressed in their best evening attire. “Did you see when his wife showed up?” Sadie said bursting into laughter. She twisted the stem of her crystal wine glass. “The look on his face was priceless.”

  “Just amazing, spectacular TV,” Tucker responded. “Who says the Golden Age is over?”

  “We don’t get those type of moments in the U.K.,” John added through a posh British accent while eyeing the ass of a young male waiter.

  “I’ll have one of those,” Billy said emerging from the crowd and taking two glasses off the waiter’s tray.

  “What do you think you’re doing young man?” Sadie said to Billy, “You’re barely old enough to drive, let alone drink.”

  Billy smiled and handed Sadie one of the glasses, “I’m old enough for you.”

  “Honey please,” Sadie took the glass out of Billy’s hand.

  “Lighten up,” Ethel said. “Let the kid have a little fun.”

  “Who are you calling a kid,” Billy said offended, “I’m old enough for you too.”

  Ethel grinned, “That so? You wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

  “I have a few ideas,” Billy winked and took two fresh glasses of champagne off the tray, nodded at a few teenage girls, and disappeared into the crowd.

  DeLeo shut off the TV and threw the controller at the wall. The remote exploded into a million pieces. Plastic shards sprayed in every direction.

  DeLeo paced the small room. All he could think about were those liars downstairs mocking him. Manipulating his thoughts. He tried to open the door.

  Locked.

  He slammed his body against it. Nothing. He ripped the TV off the wall and slammed it into the ground. He tried to flip the bed over, but it was bolted to the floor.

  DeLeo collapsed on the floor in tears. He was alone. The thought of being stuck in this room, away from his family forever, began to seep into his mind. He had never cheated on his wife. Selfish, yes, but unfaithful—no.

  Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door. At first, DeLeo didn’t think anything of it; he must have been hearing things. Then it happened again. He sat up and looked at the door.

  Was someone there?

  A key slid under the small gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. Someone was trying to help.

  DeLeo waited a moment before retrieving it. Seconds later he put the key into the doorknob, half expecting it not to work.

  The lock clicked. The door opened.

  “Hello?” DeLeo whispered into the hall. There was no response. Whoever had helped him was already gone.

  9

  DeLeo moved cautiously down the hallway, his eyes darting from corner to ceiling looking for cameras. In the pit of his stomach, he expected Hector or one of the other orderlies to jump out from behind a door and tackle him.

  DeLeo peered over the edge of the railing into the courtyard, making sure only his eyes were visible. The party was still raging below. The guests were louder now and probably drunk.

  DeLeo entered the same glass elevator he had ridden up in and pushed L for lobby. He made sure to stay away from the glass, hugging the door, so no one from the party would see him.

  A sense of relief came over DeLeo when the elevator door opened into an empty hallway rather than the crowded courtyard floor. The corridor was clear. The sound of corks popping and drunken conversation drifted from the nearby party.

  Suddenly DeLeo froze at the sound of laughter. Someone was near. Close. DeLeo noticed a restroom a few doors down and ran toward it. His heart raced, thumping in his chest as he slipped through the swinging door. DeLeo quickly looked under the bathroom stalls. It was empty.

  Someone from outside chuckled again. It was a familiar sound. DeLeo had heard it before. Curiosity got the best of him, and he slowly peered out the restroom door. It was Billy with a girl on his arm and they were coming near him, toward the restroom.

  DeLeo closed the door softly and darted to the end stall. Once inside he locked it and stood on the toilet in case they looked under.

  The main door open. Billy entered with his girl. “Come on,” he heard Billy say. “There’s no one in here, it’s just you and me. We’ll have a little fun.”

  DeLeo held his breath as Billy brought the girl into the next stall. He waited until he heard them getting lost in the moment—kissing, belts coming off, zippers going down. The movements and groans of passion filled the small restroom.

  DeLeo lightly put his foot on the ground and slowly unlocked his stall. Part of DeLeo wanted to kick down Billy’s stall door and beat the shit out of him for what he did. However, he was still just a kid, and of all of the cast Billy was the one he hated the least.

  DeLeo exited the restroom and continued down the corridor. He slowed down when he approached the courtyard entrance. Through a set of French doors with golden handles, he could see into the ballroom. There were easily a hundred people inside, partying, drinking, celebrating at his expense. Busy waiters made their way to and from the kitchen and the bar. Money was clearly not a problem for whoever was paying for this party.

  DeLeo caught Sadie moving about the party seducing everyone she talked to. A knot formed in his stomach. He clenched his jaw. He wanted to talk to her. Ask her a few questions. Get some answers.

  Truthfully he wanted to scream in her face. Make her feel the pain she made him feel. His fists tightened. He wanted to hit something as hard as he could. Destroy something. Make what was once beautiful ugly.

  Sadie kissed Chip Johnson on each side of his cheek, then Tucker, and finally John, as if she was saying goodbye. She was leaving DeLeo thought. This was a perfect time to get her alone and talk to her.

  DeLeo observed Sadie like a lion stalks its prey. From the crack through the French doors no one saw him. His eyes raised to the top of his lids, his head slightly pointed down. He just wanted to talk to her. Ask a few questions. That was it.

  Sadie headed toward the exit. DeLeo was patient. When she stepped out into the hallway. DeLeo kept his distance, ducking in doorways and behind large tropical plants scattered along the corridor for decoration. He wanted to talk to her someplace quiet. Away from all these people.

  Sadie turned a corner. DeLeo waited then followed. Sadie’s ankle buckled form her massive heels. She must be drunk, DeLeo thought. Too much Sauvignon Blanc. Up ahead he saw a maintenance closet. This was his moment.

  DeLeo crept up silently from behind and without sound or warning, grabbed her. He put a hand over her mouth and with the other locked her arms close to her body. “Don’t move,” he whispered in her ear. Her body tensed. He could feel her fear. Her muscles twitched. Her neck tightened as he dragged her into the maintenance closet.

  The closet was dark and musty, lit by one lone bulb above. Mops and cleaning supplies lined the walls, along with toilet paper and room-ready shampoos and conditions.

  “Please don’t hurt me!” Sadie cried as DeLeo flipped her around.

  “Shut up,” he said. The fury bubbling to the surface. “You know how to mess with a person’s mind, don’t you? You destroyed my life. Made a fool out of me. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to kill you.” He pushed her to the ground. “I want you to feel the same pain you made me feel.”

  “I’ll scream,” Sadie said behind frightened eyes.

  DeLeo grabbed her by the neck and began to squeeze. “I’m not going to let you do that.”

  Sadie wiggled, trying everything to
move from his grip. Finally, she broke free and backed against the closet wall. “Please, this is just a show. It’s all fake. Please.”

  DeLeo moved closer.

  “Help,” she yelled again, pulling out what appeared to be a microphone from her dress. “Help,” she yelled again. “Bravo, bravo, I want out.”

  DeLeo pulled the microphone out of her hand. A long cord ran into a transmitter hidden under her dress.

  “What the hell is this?” DeLeo yelled.

  “It’s all fake,” Sadie pleaded. “The key? Who do you think let you out of your room?”

  Suddenly the door burst opened and a group of heavily armed men wearing blue SWAT uniforms entered. They wore face masks and held batons. DeLeo swung violently at whoever tried to touch him.

  “Take him down,” a voice outside the closet yelled.

  In a moment DeLeo was pinned against the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hector enter the closet with a large syringe in his hand. He felt a sting in his arm and everything went black.

  10

  DeLeo woke to white fluorescent lights overhead and his arms and legs shackled to a chair. His ribs hurt, probably from one of the roided-out orderlies or the fascist SWAT team. Why would a TV show need a souped-up security force like that?

  In front of DeLeo was a windowless door cut into a cement wall and a large LCD screen. A closed-circuit camera buzzed in the top corner of the cell pointing right at him. DeLeo screamed at the camera, pulling at the chains on his arms and feet.

  The TV monitor then faded up from black showing footage of what happened after he was sedated. DeLeo watched as the security force left. Sadie stood up and fixed her dress. Hector and the other white coats prepared to take his unconscious body away.

  “Wait,” Sadie said to Hector, who was preparing to move DeLeo’s sedated body. Now shackled to the chair, DeLeo watched Sadie kick him as hard as she could in the stomach. DeLeo instantly thought of the pain in his side and knew where it came from.

  “Are you okay?” Chip said to Sadie walking into frame.

  “Do I look okay?” she snapped back.

  “We were just waiting for you to give us the signal.”

  “I tried to give you the signal, but his damn hand was around my throat!” Sadie ripped off the remainder of the microphone wire and handed it to Chip. “I thought no one was supposed to get hurt. This guy is dangerous! I’m just an actor.”

  “Are you okay?” Ethel asked, out of breath from running to the scene of the incident. John entered right behind, breathing heavily. “I heard what happened and I came right away.”

  “I’m fine,” Sadie said annoyed. Chip helped her out of the closet.

  “All the excitement is over,” Chip said to the cast. “Please go back to the party. Enjoy yourself. We’ll take care of this.”

  “You sure?” Ethel asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Sadie said, “Go on, head back.”

  Chip waited for the cast to leave before he kissed Sadie. Shackled to the chair Wes watched the two on screen, it seemed as though they had a previous relationship. But Wes’s mind was foggy and it was tough to tell what was real and what was fake.

  “Chip, don’t smile at me like that.” Sadie said, the corner of her mouth turning into a grin. “I mean, this guy is seriously messed up. He snapped for Christ sakes. Some people can’t be rehabilitated.”

  “I’m sorry, it got a little out of hand,” Chip said, “I take full responsibility. I didn’t mean to put you in that type of position.”

  Sadie smiled coyly. “You know, you’re a jerk sometimes Chip. I might have to talk to my union rep.”

  Chip pouted his lips, “You wouldn’t do that, would you? We’re making television history!”

  “You’re still a jerk,” Sadie brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear.

  Chip pulled Sadie close to him and kissed her, “Is this something a bottle of wine can fix?”

  “I’m not that easy?”

  “Really?” Chip smiled. “Aren’t all actresses that easy?”

  “Shut up,” Sadie laughed, feigning outrage, and kissed Chip again. “Let’s go have that bottle of wine.”

  DeLeo watched the two of them walk down the hallway, Chip’s arm around Sadie’s shoulder. Then the camera cut to himself drooling unconsciously as Hector and the orderlies wheeled him in the opposite direction. The screen faded to black.

  The cell door unlocked and the door swung open. Dr. Stone entered the interrogation room with Hector by her side.

  DeLeo immediately applauded their entrance, his chains rattling as his hands barely reached together. “Bravo, bravo. You guys are such geniuses.”

  Dr. Stone stared at Hector, confused, then approached DeLeo. Without taking her eyes off of her clipboard, she said, “You attacked one of the actors.”

  “Just a stunt. None of it was real. It’s TV.” DeLeo laughed. “Remember? Am I right Hector? What are you an ex-wrestler or something? You look like it.”

  Dr. Stone looked into DeLeo’s eyes. “You’re wrong about that. After your actions in the closet, your wife had you officially committed. You’re lucky Sarah isn’t pressing charges.”

  “Sarah? I’m still going to still call her Sadie. And her pressing charges? I should be the one pressing charges! I want to speak with my wife.”

  “I’m afraid that’s out of the question. The decisions you made got you here Mr. DeLeo, and it will be the decisions you make from now on that will get you out of here — if that time ever comes.”

  “This can’t be legal.”

  “I can assure it is. You are a danger to yourself and, as the video showed, you are a danger to others as well. We are fully committed to your recovery. It’s our job to help rehabilitate you with whatever means possible. We don’t want you to relapse like so many do.”

  “Fuck you!” DeLeo yelled and pulled at his chains.

  “If you don’t remain calm, I’ll have Hector sedate you.”

  “I want out,” DeLeo screamed into the camera, then spit on Dr. Stone.

  Dr. Stone shook her head in disapproval then looked at the cameras in the corner of the cell as if to ask permission for her next move. “Hector, please see to it that Mr. DeLeo doesn’t do that again.”

  Hector deftly prepared a syringe, tapping the top. Fluid squirted from the tip. Hector neared, and DeLeo squirmed as best he could but it was no use. Everything went black.

  DeLeo woke to blurry white lights. When his eyes adjusted, he was in another cell, this one quite different from the last. It had padded walls like an insane asylum. He tried to move his arms, but they had put him in a straight jacket.

  “Let’s try this again,” Dr. Stone said from the doorway.

  DeLeo lifted his head. His thoughts were foggy. “Am I still on TV?” he asked.

  “Someone is always watching here. Now, why do you think you are here?”

  “This is torture!”

  “This is an intervention, Mr. DeLeo. Can you think why?”

  “I want to go home.”

  “I can’t allow that until I’ve seen positive changes in your condition.”

  “What condition? You did this to me!”

  “Tell me about your family, your daughter. If you don’t confront your past, you’ll never get better.”

  DeLeo felt like he was reverting to a childish state. “I’m better now, I swear. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “How can I believe you? You’ve lied in the past to get what you want, so why not now?”

  “I want my music. It will help me think clearly.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Dr. Stone quickly left, shutting the door behind her.

  “I want out of here!” DeLeo pleaded, screaming into the padded walls in vain.

  11

  DeLeo woke to drool pooling in h
is arms. The drugs were wearing off. Blurry images moved past his face, but couldn’t make out what they were or where he was. He slowly looked down at his arms, realizing he was no longer tied or shackled. His arms rested on the wings of a wheelchair. He tried to move his them but couldn’t. They were heavy, numb to the touch. The drugs still had their hold. He could barely move his fingers. Giving up, he dozed off again.

  He woke sometime later, still in the wheelchair, but his clothes had been changed. He wore an all-white outfit, like something a hospital patient would wear. Surveying his surroundings, he realized he was in a medical ward with five other drooling vegetables, each with a look of confusion and utter stupidity on their faces as they gazed blindly at the television.

  DeLeo tried to wiggle his toes and then his fingers. No use. He knew they had pumped him full of so much shit they could probably pull out a tooth, and he wouldn’t feel it. The changing television channel stopped, “I love this show,” DeLeo heard a voice say from behind him. DeLeo glacially turned his head to see where the sound came from. It was a big man, with bright eyes, and the head the size of a cantaloupe. He looked familiar, but DeLeo couldn’t place him. Was it the drugs or had he really seen this guy somewhere before?

  “This is my favorite show,” the man said with a child’s excitement. The man moved across the room of drooling zombies, gently rolling their wheelchairs out of his way.

  “Hey it’s you,” the man said staring at DeLeo. “From the TV show. I’ve never met anyone famous before. My name is Tim.” The man grabbed DeLeo’s limp arm and shook his hand. Tim pointed to the screen.

  DeLeo slowly turned his head toward the TV. It was the footage of DeLeo chasing Sadie through the hotel hallway.

  “I was in season one,” Tim said, with a bright smile that reminded DeLeo of the cartoons he watched as a kid. Cartoons that bordered on lunacy.

  DeLeo moved his lips trying to speak, but nothing came out.

  Tim moved closer wiping the long stream of spittle oozing from DeLeo’s mouth, “Ewww. They got you pumped full of juice, Wes. You can barely speak.”