“How much luggage does she have?”
“Couple of suitcases is all. She’s a nice girl, Antonio. Not like most of the celebrities we get. What’s she doing dating that ass Brandon?”
Antonio winced. “I assume she can’t hear you?”
“She’s listening to her iPod. Plus I got the partition up. Come on Antonio. You know I’m a professional.”
“I was hoping as much.”
“I heard she showed her breasts in her last movie. Did you see it?”
“I have to go now, Carl.”
“Hey, guess what? She bought me a milkshake at McDonalds.”
“Another story for the breakroom.”
“Nobody’s gonna beat this one. Shannon Moon bought me a milkshake. Who can top that?”
“You’ll win the gossip pool hands down. I’ll see you in the port in four minutes.” Before ending the call he added, “Keep a sharp eye for paparazzi. We have reason to believe they may be waiting for her arrival.”
“If I see any, I’ll run em over.”
Antonio replaced the water glass in the guest bathroom, wiped out the armoire and rearranged the robe, which had become disheveled from the perched paparazzo, and sent Sonny a quick text as a reminder to put the condoms in the nightstand. He found a folded slip of paper on the floor, glanced at it quickly and slid it into his tuxedo jacket. When he left the Sachem Suite he checked to make sure the doors were secured behind him. As he strode down the hall he visually inspected the linen wall covering, pile carpet, brass chair rail and mirrors and, after wiping away a smudge with his handkerchief, found the route of Miss Moon’s travel satisfactory and sent Maria a quick note of thanks on his BlackBerry.
At the end of the hall he pushed through a door marked Villa Staff and bumped into a small crowd of housekeeping attendants gathered on the elevator landing. Most of them gasped in surprise. One giggled. Several jammed digital cameras back into the pockets of their uniforms.
Antonio squared his shoulders and arched an eyebrow at them. “Hello ladies.”
They sang in chorus, “Helloooo Antonio.”
“Have you assembled for a meeting?”
As one, they shook their heads.
“Waiting for an elevator, perhaps?”
A few shook their heads. Others nodded.
Antonio pressed the call button. Immediately the elevator door to his left pinged and opened. He raised his arm. “Ladies, I trust you won’t be waiting for an elevator any more this evening.”
They pushed one another forward. One spokeswoman smiled up at him, “Thanks Antonio!” Once all were pressed into the elevator, she said, “Say good-bye to Antonio girls!”
As the doors slid closed they all waved at him. “Bye-bye Antonio!”
He crossed the landing and knocked on the door to the butler pantry. Sonny opened it from within holding a box of condoms. “I just got your e-mail. I’m on my way.”
Antonio took the condoms and slipped them back into Sonny’s jacket pocket. “Discretion.” He said, “On a related matter, there was a small contingency of Brandon fans out here on the landing with cameras.”
Sonny’s eyebrows drew together in a passing resemblance of confusion. “Really? I didn’t hear anything.”
“Sonny, I’m fond of our housekeeping attendants too,” said Antonio. “But our foremost consideration is the privacy of the guests. Also, we wouldn’t want any of the ladies getting disciplined when we could have prevented their violation of the company policy on the privacy of celebrity guests.”
Sonny abandoned the charade and his shoulders sagged. “You’re right, Antonio. Sorry. I was hoping they would behave themselves. They all love Brandon.”
“No need to apologize.” Antonio walked over to a storage closet and removed a shopping bag of compact travel umbrellas they kept on-hand for guests.
Sonny asked, “Is it raining?”
“No, the weather this evening is very mild.” Antonio updated Sonny on the hiding paparazzo event in the suite.
“You think he’ll try for another picture?”
“I’m sure of it.” He glanced at the white board on the far wall of the pantry, where all arriving VIP guests were listed along with their suite number, arrival time and special requests. He took in a sharp breath. “I nearly forgot about Max.”
Sonny fastened the top button of his tuxedo jacket. “I’ll take care of it.”
Antonio checked his watch. “If all goes well I should have time. I’ll get Miss Moon settled within the hour. Max is arriving at eight p.m. By the time I have Max organized and at the poker tournament Brandon’s limousine should be pulling into the casino.”
“Million Dollar Texas Hold ‘Em. What’s the buy-in for something like that?”
“More than you or I can afford, but well within Max Allen’s means.”
“Must be nice to have rich parents.”
“Max’s parents are quite broke, I assure you. It seems that luck skips a generation.” Antonio pressed the elevator button. “Are those raspberry?”
Now Sonny’s confused expression was genuine. “Huh?”
Antonio stepped into the elevator. “The condoms were requested to be raspberry-flavored.”
As the doors began to close Sonny said, “It doesn’t say on the box.” Just as the doors to the elevator bumped shut he called out – “Should I smell them?!”
Antonio had barely smiled when his BlackBerry buzzed on his hip. The elevator lurched into descent.
The cell phone screen read MAX ALLEN.
Antonio shot back his cuff and checked his watch, hoping that this phone call did not mean what he feared.
“Hello, this is Antonio.”
Chapter Two
“Hello Antonio, its Max.” The cell reception in the elevator was scattered. “I’m trying…remember…this tournament is going to work.”
The elevator doors slid open and Antonio exited into the back-of-the-house hallway landing, lobby level. “Million Dollar Texas Hold ‘Em,” he said. “Seating begins at eight. There are currently sixty-three players involved. No side games. Winners from day one progress to day two where a final winner will be determined in a show-down. The tournament will be telecast live on cable and our marketing photographers will be present for promotional shots.”
“Telecast live. Will I have to shave?”
“The dress code is a bit more substantial than that.” Antonio sidestepped a bellhop hustling a brass luggage cart down the back hallway. “Formal Texan attire is required.”
The line was silent for a moment. Finally Max said, “I don’t think I want to know.”
“I have a black tuxedo, freshly pressed, and a white Stetson, brushed and ready for your arrival.” Antonio turned a corner and saw the security team waiting for him at the end of the hall.
“Ah, geez. A tuxedo. What’s a Stetson? Isn’t that cologne?”
“A cowboy hat,” said Antonio, taking a quick count of the security officers as he approached. He nodded to Mark Ford, who was squinting at his shopping bag of umbrellas. “A ten gallon cowboy hat, to be exact.”
On his end of the line, Max was laughing and relaying this information to the limo driver. There was an abrupt silence. Max came back on the line. “He says you’re serious.”
“I’m sure it was printed on your invitation, Max.”
“I don’t read my mail! I don’t even know where my mail goes half the time.”
“Mr. Cashmen is coming and I know that he’s looking forward to playing with you again.”
“Cash is wearing a hat too?”
“Of course.”
Pause. “White hats are the good guys, at least.”
“Exactly why I chose it for you,” said Antonio. He stopped in front of the security team and handed the sack of umbrellas to Mark Ford. Pressing the BlackBerry lightly to his shoulder, he said, “Everyone gets an umbrella.”
Mark Ford stared into the sack. “We didn’t get you anything.” He motioned his men to draw an umbrell
a.
One officer said, “Is this to beat off the girls from that Brandon kid?”
Another asked, “What’s that song he sings?”
“All over the radio…Sexy bitch.”
“Right! Can you believe that?”
“But on the radio they changed it to Sexy Witch. My daughter has that version.”
“Mark, can we beat him with these? Like they would in Vegas?”
The head of security tossed aside the empty bag. “Shut-up guys.” He held up his umbrella and asked Antonio, “Follow your lead?”
Antonio nodded. Putting the BlackBerry to his ear he said, “Max. I’m very sorry but I have to attend to an arriving guest.”
“Oh, right. Shannon Moon and that other guy.”
Antonio paused at the doors that opened to the valet port. “You didn’t read that in the papers, did you?” Brandon’s Saturday performance in Twilight was no secret, but the arrival of his actress girlfriend was not publicized by the casino to ensure her privacy.
Max said, “Damien told me. He called me in the limo. Wants to sign me up for the Player’s Club again.”
Antonio felt his lips compress. Casino Hosts like Damien Valentine used celebrity arrivals as teasers to entice players into their high-roller club. Everything was bait for their hooks, with no respect for discretion.
Antonio pushed through the doors and made his way to the valet port, followed by the security contingency. The night was firmly in the backdrop of the bright lights and marble columns of the porte-cochere. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll handle Damien. Call me before you arrive, Max. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Me too. But I’m already here.”
Antonio halted. Mark Ford bumped into his shoulder. A jumble of security officers bumped into them both.
“Where are you calling from, Max?”
“The limo. Hey, I can see you. Tell Mark I said hi.”
Antonio scanned the entrance to the porte-cochere. Rolling down the circular drive lined with ornamental trees was a Cadillac Escalade with casino plates. He marked that as Carl driving Shannon Moon. Behind it was a limousine. Black, reserved for player pick-up. Max Allen, sixty minutes early, and the driver hadn’t phoned ahead, just as he’d feared. Antonio sorted through his options.
“Sonny is available to bring you up, of course.”
“That’s okay. I’ll wait for you.”
Shannon Moon’s Escalade was easing up to the curb. Mark Ford tapped Antonio on the shoulder with his umbrella.
The head butler resigned himself to the situation. “I’ll try to be quick, Max.”
“No problem. I’ll play cards with the driver.”
“Thank you. Take it easy on him. Christmas Bonus is a few months away.”
Max whispered into the phone. “I always let him win.”
Antonio motioned for the security team to line up. “I’ll call you if I’m not down in twenty minutes.” BlackBerry put away, Antonio turned sharply and addressed the security officers. “Gentlemen, if you will.” He took the umbrella from Mark Ford and said, “Present arms.” He pushed the button on the handle. With a snap the umbrella extended to its full length.
The security guards followed with the staccato clicking of umbrellas.
“Safeties off.” Antonio unsnapped the band that held the umbrella closed.
The contingency followed suit, several of them smiling.
The Cadillac Escalade cruised slowly to a stop behind Antonio. He turned, and with a flick of his wrist the umbrella opened fully above him. When the ten officers behind him engaged their own, there was a sharp burst of wind.
Antonio grasped the handle of the rear passenger door.
Security huddled close, umbrellas bumping against one another.
Mark spoke into the button-mic clipped on his shirt cuff. “Command. She’s coming out. Stand by.”
Antonio opened the door of the SUV. “Welcome to the Native Sun Casino.”
A slender hand with pearl nail polish extended from the interior shadows. Antonio gently took the hand in his. A leg emerged. Bare, smooth, bronze. A pedicured foot in leather sandals touched down on the walkway.
The porte-cochere swarmed with paparazzi.
They crashed through the decorative shrubbery. Leapt from various cars ostensibly waiting to be parked. Individuals turned and dropped empty suitcases, thus dropping their guise as loitering guests. All brandished cameras, snapped pictures, and shouted obscenely.
“Miss Moon! Miss Moon!”
“Shannon!”
“Hey! Hey! Over here!”
Then, to Antonio’s satisfaction: “I can’t see past the umbrellas!”
Still in the relative safety of the Escalade, she smiled out at him. Her hairstyle was new compared to what was in the current magazines. Blond locks bouncing around her shoulders in broad, sun-lightened curls. A perfect heart-shaped face flush with the shine and health of youth. Lipstick that expertly gave the impression of recently wetted lips. Over-sized sunglasses reflected Antonio’s face in the shadow of the umbrella brigade.
Shannon Moon said, “I heard it was supposed to rain paparazzi tonight.”
Antonio spun his umbrella. “We’ve had a sudden downpour, Miss Moon. I suggest we take shelter immediately.”
Still holding his hand, the twenty-eight-year old actress stepped down from the SUV and stood as the security team gathered tightly around. The paparazzi were becoming more brazen. One of them stuck a camera between a security officer’s legs and began to take pictures. The officer grunted, squeezed his knees together and hopped. The paparazzo yelped. The camera clattered to the ground.
Mark Ford kicked it onto the valet tarmac. “Oops.”
The paparazzi shouting reverberated in the domed port. “Where’s Brandon!”
“Yo Shannon!”
“Brandon coming! Shannon!”
“Hey!”
“Over here!”
Over the babble Antonio heard a car door open and expected to see the driver of the Escalade coming out. Antonio looked across the backseat, just glimpsing a spiky head of hair diving towards them.
“Miss Moon,” said Antonio, ushering her away from her open door. “If you would be so kind…”
The Asian paparazzo that had been hiding in the armoire was now spread across the leather backseat of the Escalade. On his stomach. Camera out and aimed. Snapping off pictures one after another. The flash sparked the interior.
Antonio slammed the door on him.
Now the driver did poke his head up from the driver’s side. “Did someone just get back in?”
Antonio said quickly: “You have a hostage, Carl. Engage the locks.”
Carl leaned over and pressed a button on his control panel. The electronic bolts snapped into position. “Now what?”
“Take him for a drive.”
Carl tipped his cap and ducked back into the Escalade.
“I’ll have him bring your luggage up later, Miss Moon.”
Shannon Moon squeezed Antonio’s arm. “I love you guys!”
From behind the darkened windows of the Escalade the paparazzo shouted “LET out! LET out!” as the driver pulled away from the curb.
Antonio turned back to the huddle of umbrellas.
Mark was at his shoulder. “We’ll never get through the lobby. Side door?”
Antonio shook his head. “They’ve blocked it. Valet dispatch?”
“Yeah. Marlene’s on tonight. She’ll run interference for us. She likes you.”
“Well I love him.” Shannon Moon pressed a button on her jeweled cell phone and put it to her ear. “Hey baby! Guess what I found? Your paparazzi pals.”
At the sound of their name they began yelling again: “Shannon – that Brandon on the phone!”
“Shannon – what’s he saying!”
“Hold out the phone!”
“Can we talk to him!”
Mark Ford was directing his men to form a wall of umbrellas to the valet door. “
I want you lined up like Southern Belles at a dance. But uglier looking. You.” He stretched out a fist toward a photographer who had shimmied around the side. “Don’t make me use this.”
The photographer eyeballed the small spray can. “You can’t mace me!”
Mark Ford sprayed the man in the eyes.
The photographer screamed and dropped his camera.
Shannon Moon kicked it backwards toward the valet tarmac. “Oops.”
“Good kick.” Mark Ford lifted the spray can and shot a spritz into his mouth. He held it out to Antonio. “Spearmint?”
“Let’s get moving.” Antonio brought his BlackBerry up. “Marlene? Antonio. We’re bringing Shannon Moon through your door in ten seconds. I don’t want anyone in there but you.”
Mark barked into his cuff mic. “I want the 9B hallway behind valet cleared of personnel in ten seconds. I don’t care. Pull the fire alarm or something.”
Shannon spoke into her cell. “They have a limo meeting you at the airport. I can’t wait to see you baby! Are you coming straight here?”
They rushed down the line of guards and through a door marked Valet Office. Once inside the din of the paparazzi dulled. Mark shouted orders to his security team and shut the door.
“Hello dear.” Antonio smiled at Marlene, a stooped older woman with glasses wearing a turquoise uniform.
Marlene was speaking into a headset. She winked at Antonio and waved at the young actress, her cheeks blushing slightly.
Antonio rushed Shannon and Mark through another door, blew a kiss to Marlene, and said, “No one comes through. Ten minutes.”
She winked back at him and swiveled to her computer terminal.
In the back hallway Mark and Antonio furled their umbrellas.
“I like the umbrella trick,” said Mark. “How’d you know there would be so many photographers out there?”
Antonio straightened his tie. “I didn’t, but the trick works for one or twenty.”
Shannon snapped her cell closed. “They’re always around; you just can’t see them until it’s too late. The guy you locked into the back of the car? He’s the worst one.”
CASINO SHUFFLE Page 2