CASINO SHUFFLE

by Fields Jr. , J.

  “Max, turn around,” said Antonio, striding quickly to his side.

  Max straightened up. “Did I get wet back there too?” He turned in a circle.

  Shannon Moon inspected his backside. “Looks fine to me.”

  Max turned back to her. “Thanks. Oh. Wow…hey.” He stumbled backwards into Antonio. Flipped around. “She. She.”

  Antonio ushered him into the adjoining bedroom. Over his shoulder he said, “We’ll return with a robe, Miss Moon.”

  “Okay.”

  “And slippers. Please don’t move from that spot.”

  In the bedroom Antonio released Max from his grip. The poker player collapsed onto the bed.

  “She. She.”

  “I know, Max. Please stay here until I have the situation under control.”

  “Naked.”

  “It was the only towel she had available to give you. Do you need a glass of water?”

  Max leaned over and looked through the doorway. “Still naked.”

  “Max!” Antonio lowered his voice. “Please look at me.”

  “Sorry. Wow. Did you see that?”

  “Do not move until I return for you.”

  “I don’t think I can. I can’t feel my legs.”

  “We are in dangerous territory. You have just seen what every paparazzo in the world has attempted to exploit.”

  “It was amazing.”

  “You must let me do the talking until we leave the suite.”

  “You talk.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Antonio quickly dialed Mark Ford. “I won’t make it. Please send the pictures of the broken furniture to my BlackBerry.” Antonio took a deep breath, draped the robe over one arm, and with slippers in hand strode back into the sitting area. “I’m terribly sorry about all this, Miss Moon.”

  Shannon reached for the robe. “Chilly.”

  Antonio fitted it over her shoulders and laid the slippers at her feet. When she had belted the robe and turned, he had a lit cigarette waiting for her.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Antonio escorted her by the hand to the leather sectional. “I’ll have housekeeping come to clean this up immediately.”

  “I managed to mess up his pants and your suit coat.”

  “Not to worry.”

  “The press would love putting a spin on this one. Drunken Shannon Moon strips naked and throws champagne on butler!” She exhaled smoke.

  Antonio adjusted his tie. “They will never know, Miss Moon.”

  “Sorry if I embarrassed Max.”

  “He’ll recover.”

  “I just wanted to give him the towel. I wasn’t even thinking. I’m so used to getting dressed on set – love scenes, you know. Being naked doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

  “No explanation necessary. These are your accommodations to occupy as you see fit. You are the guest.”

  “And Max is my butler – I don’t want to scare him off. I like him.”

  Antonio suffered internally. Outwardly he remained stoic.

  “He’s a regular guy,” said Shannon, staring at the bedroom doorway and exhaling a feather of smoke. “Not many of those left around.” She stubbed out her cigarette. “His other job at the tournament won’t keep him from me too much, will it?”

  Antonio cleared his throat. “I’ll have to look into the matter,” was all he could manage.

  Chapter Seven

  The butler pantry was not only the cold storage area, stockroom and the location of the Elektra semiautomatic espresso machine coveted by several of the casino’s dining outlets, but it was also the favored spot for social niceties of the butler staff. They asked one another about their personal lives. Commented on current events. Traded bits of gossip. Sampled new dishes. Sipped tea.

  Antonio’s personal office was for conversations that required more discretion. The furniture was of the style showcased in their premier suites. The draperies, wall linen and carpet were of the same quality as the guests enjoyed. Aside from square footage, there was one main distinction between the office and the guest rooms. The private office of Antonio Cruz had one of the few remaining doors in the casino that was not accessed by an encoded magnetic key. Instead, it was fitted with a brass hard key lock. The original key belonged to Antonio, who had given a copy to only two other individuals: Mark Ford and Sonny Wu.

  As Sonny entered the office, Antonio locked the door behind him. Max sat hunched over on the leather sofa.

  Sonny said, “Hi Max. Are you sick?”

  Antonio motioned Sonny to a side chair and took his own seat behind his writing desk. “We have a problem.”

  Sonny looked from Max to Antonio. “Is there a virus going around?”

  “Max is not ill.”

  Max groaned.

  Antonio relayed the misunderstanding in the Sachem Suite to Sonny. When finished he leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs at the knee, and waited.

  It took Sonny a full minute to respond. Then he asked, “Was she completely nude?”

  Max shook his head. “She was wearing my cowboy hat.”

  Sonny pondered once more, all the while staring off into the distance.

  Antonio intervened. “Do you have any suggestions, Sonny?”

  Sonny had slumped back dreamily into his chair. He now sat up and adjusted his lapels and trouser crease. “Did you see her naked, too?”

  Antonio arched an eyebrow. “Is this relevant to your problem solving process?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. I saw Miss Moon in the nude on two separate occasions.”

  Sonny stood up. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Antonio uncrossed his legs and sat forward. “I understand that the events are unfortunate, and my adherence to the rules somewhat suspect. However, what’s done is done.”

  “It’s not that.” Sonny raised a hand. “We’ve all bent the rules for our guests.”

  “So what has you so visibly upset?”

  Sonny put his hands behind his back. “I feel left out.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You’ve both seen her naked and I haven’t.”

  Antonio leaned back in his seat. “For God’s sake, Sonny. I’m being serious.”

  “Why did you take him to meet her and not me? I always get the old women.”

  Antonio pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I cannot believe we’re discussing this. In fact, we are not discussing it.”

  “Old rich women I see naked all the time. They do it on purpose. Some of them have an excessive amount of liver spots, Antonio.”

  Max reached out and tapped Sonny on the knee. “I don’t even want the job. Do you want it?”

  Sonny took half a step away. “Antonio, I always thought I did a commendable job as your protégé. After a year I would have thought you’d have recommended me for the job.”

  “Sonny,” said Antonio. “You were the butler I was going to recommend. In hindsight I realize that I promised Miss Moon I would introduce her to a butler tonight that would attend to her solely. When I called to request permission for her to be introduced to someone, I should have specified that it was in fact another guest. Unfortunately I did not. Though fate has intervened, the original intent was for you to be her butler.”

  “Good.” Sonny buttoned his jacket. “Should I go introduce myself to her?”

  “No.” Antonio stood up from his chair and stepped around the desk.

  “No?” Sonny sat back down. “Well, I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

  Antonio removed a spare tuxedo jacket from his office closet. “She requested Max as her personal butler for the weekend.”

  “But Max isn’t a butler.”

  “Right, I’m not a butler. Don’t you have to be trained to do butler stuff?”

  Sonny nodded. “Antonio was trained by Ivor Spencer, a member of the order of the British Empire.”


  “Wow,” said Max. “I’m an online college dropout.”

  Sonny frowned. “Did you say online – ”

  “I did not feel it was prudent to point out the error to Miss Moon.” He donned the jacket in front of the full length gilded mirror beside his desk. “If she discovers that Max is not an employee of the casino, and therefore not bound by a confidentiality agreement, she could sue the tribe. She would be within her rights to pursue civil lawsuits, as well, against myself and Max.” He transferred his silk handkerchief from his wet jacket to his fresh one.

  Max sat back down. “That would be mean. She didn’t seem mean.”

  “I agree, but she is not privy to the truth. It could be construed that I had introduced her to you under false pretenses, not pointing out that you were a guest. Perhaps you and I were in cahoots, so to speak, to obtain her autograph and other compromising information about the young actress. The last time I had seen her she was nude and about to enter the Jacuzzi. Couldn’t I assume that she would be nude when you and I arrived? Allowing just the right amount of time for her immodesty to be well lubricated by the champagne I was so courteous to arrange.” He walked over to Max and held his eye. “You see how a simple set of circumstances become devious once the right motive is introduced?”

  Max frowned. “But I think she likes us.”

  “Anyone who suffers the celebrity lifestyle knows that ones friends can quickly become enemies when motivated by star lust and money. Shannon Moon is no friend of the press. First impressions aside, the reality is that she barely knows you or me. It would only take moments for her agent or lawyer to convince Miss Moon to prosecute in order to keep us from the media. The story would turn from a celebrity tidbit into a harassment claim. The scenario is rife with headline possibilities. The Butler Did It. Strip Poker. Peeping Tom in a Tuxedo…” Antonio realized that the men were staring at him. “So on and so forth.”

  “Strip poker,” mused Sonny.

  Max cut him off. “So what do we do?”

  “There are several possibilities.”

  “Good, let’s pick one.”

  “Oh,” said Sonny. “I get it. She stripped…you play poker.”

  “The first course of action is the most obvious,” said Antonio.

  “We tell her the truth.”

  Antonio began to pace. “I said the most obvious, not the most honest.”

  “Oh.”

  Sonny interjected. “We hire Max as a butler.”

  Antonio raised a finger. “Correct.”

  Sonny snapped his head around. “I was joking.”

  “Hiring Max on staff would resolve the entire conflict by eliminating the conflict. He would be a butler. There is no deception on behalf of the casino. Problem solved.”

  “Wow, really?” Max looked at Sonny. “I’ve never had a real job before.”

  Sonny ratcheted to his feet. “Antonio!”

  Antonio patted the air with his hands. “Calm yourself. We have no openings at the moment.”

  Sonny collected himself. “Sorry about the outburst.”

  “No apology necessary,” said Antonio.

  “I’m a little offended.”

  “Sorry, Max.”

  “The other possibility was to terminate your employment,” said Antonio. “And pass on the information to Miss Moon.”

  Sonny bolted upright. “What!”

  “Not you,” said Antonio, gesturing towards Max. “Max would be terminated.”

  Max deflated into his couch. “Really?”

  Sonny glanced over at Max. “Hey. Sorry.”

  Max asked, “What’d I do?”

  “I considered several scenarios, deciding on something innocuous such as a personal problem.”

  “What kind of personal problem?”

  “That would have been confidential, of course.”

  “You can’t even tell me?”

  “Max, it was a fictional problem.”

  “Don’t jinx me.”

  Sonny stared at him openly. “You’ve never had a real job? Like, ever?”

  “Well. One time I did a weekly poker blog.”

  Sonny continued staring. “How old are you again?”

  The knock on the office door startled all three gentlemen. Antonio turned the lock and opened it.

  Chase Randolph, the afternoon butler, leaned into the office holding a cordless phone. “Sorry to interrupt, Antonio. I have a call.”

  “Take a message. I’ll return the call momentarily.”

  “Sorry, but the call’s not for you.”

  Sonny stood up. “I’ll step into the pantry and take it.”

  Chase Randolph shook his head. “Not for you, either, I’m afraid.” He extended the phone towards Max. “For you, Mr. Allen.”

  Max stood up. “Must be Trixie.”

  “No,” said Antonio. “She wouldn’t call the butler pantry.” He turned to the butler. “Please put Miss Moon through to my desk phone. Max, step over here, if you would.”

  “I’m going to talk to her?”

  “Yes,” said Antonio. “If my intuition serves, she merely wants to apologize. If she has a request, please pass her over to me.”

  The office phone rang, a single light blinking on the display.

  Max stared at it.

  Antonio and Sonny waited patiently.

  Inhaling sharply, Max picked up the phone and said, “Hello.”

  Shannon said, “I’m holding for Max, the butler.”

  “Hi, that’s me.”

  “Oh! Great. This is Shannon.”

  “Hi.”

  “I’m glad I caught you before you went to your other job.”

  Max paused.

  “Because I wanted to talk to you. About what happened. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Sure, I’m fine.”

  “Did your pants dry out?”

  “What? Oh, yeah…my pants are,” he glanced over at Antonio and Sonny, “…my pants are much better now.”

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. By taking off my robe. I should have warned you or something.”

  Max shrugged. Waited. Then replied, “That was fine. Really.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “No way.”

  “You’ll stay with me this weekend?”

  “Stay with you?”

  “Be my butler?”

  “Be your butler?”

  “Well, the butler for me and Brandon, though he has his tour manager Marty to boss around and will probably ignore you most of the time. He doesn’t do it to be mean. He’s just focused. Driven. You know.”

  “Hello, Miss Moon.”

  “Who’s this?”

  “This is Antonio. Max just handed me the phone. He was called away suddenly. Did you have a request?”

  “Max isn’t there anymore? I was just talking to him.”

  “I’m afraid he was called away. The tournament.”

  “Right. He doesn’t like me, does he?”

  “Of course he does.”

  “Can you put me through to his cell phone maybe?”

  Antonio paused. “You didn’t have a request?”

  “I was just talking to him about being our butler this weekend.”

  “Ah, I see. We haven’t had a chance to discuss that internally.”

  “I trust Max.”

  “I’ll pass that along, Miss Moon.”

  “I have a good instinct for people. It’s from being around a lot of scumbags.”

  “I can see where that might hone ones perceptions.”

  “He didn’t set off my scumbag detector.”

  “That’s most reassuring.”

  Sigh. “Can you have him call me later?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “He’s standing right there, isn’t he?”

  “There is only myself and a butler named Sonny Wu. We are the only butlers in the near vicinity, I assure you.”

  “Okay, okay. So you’ll be by soon to arrange the dinner tonight?
”

  “I’ve already contacted my favorite in-house chef. He’s preparing an initial menu for your approval as we speak.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I’ll call your suite before I arrive. Until then, have a nice evening, Miss Moon.”

  He replaced the receiver and checked his watch. “Time to go to the tournament, Max.”

  Max and Sonny followed Antonio as he strode toward the office door.

  “What did we decide?” Max looked toward Sonny. “Did we decide anything?”

  Sonny frowned. “I don’t feel closure.”

  Antonio rested his hand on the doorknob. “We have to move ahead with the final option. I feel it’s our only recourse.”

  “Final option,” said Sonny.

  “Which one was that?” Max asked.

  “The one I didn’t want to mention,” said Antonio.

  Chapter Eight

  Ang Wang knew from experience that most casino surveillance didn’t pay attention to hotel cameras. But they were probably looking for him so maybe they were paying attention.

  Big whoop.

  He had spent fifteen minutes by the elevators with his duffel bag; head bowed over a casino brochure about jogging trails, waiting for someone to come off the elevator and walk in the direction he needed to go. If security was watching for him they were looking for a single Asian male with no luggage hustling down the hallways. He had already scouted out the tinted security camera bubbles in the ceiling of the elevator landing and stood in a spot that was more likely out of their field of view. Unless they had hidden cameras somewhere, which he doubted, but hey, sometimes he was surprised by security measures. Not usually.

  Finally the elevators dinged open just as he was reading about how long it took to jog to Lantern Hill at a moderate pace. A Vietnamese family expelled themselves and their luggage from the elevator, chattering in their stupid language and sounding like a flock of gargling turkey vultures.

  He thought, Ha. I blend in great. Dumb security don’t know Vietnamese from Chinese. All look alike.

  He shook his head. He was even thinking in the fake accent now.

  Snatching up his bag Ang caught up to the family that choked the narrow hotel corridor. The pack leader, a white-haired old fart the height and weight of a ten-year-old, was holding his room key card in the air like a winning lottery ticket, comparing it to every room number plaque they swarmed past. He would grunt if the number didn’t match and that was the signal for everybody to keep moving. One of the kids in the back of the blabbering group, all of them dee-dong-fing-fong-ing each other, looked around at Ang and said something in Vietnamese.