“You’re embarrassing us!”
Mark started over. “Stop it. Let him go.”
The overhead light flooded the room with instant effect. Everyone covered their eyes, including Mark.
Antonio turned the light off. “I trust you won’t make me do that again.”
The girl lowered her hands. “He’s good.”
The boy rubbed the top of his head. “The best.”
Mark pointed his penlight at them. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”
Antonio stepped forward into a wash of light from the monitors that transformed him into a well-dressed specter. “I’m disappointed in what I’ve witnessed thus far. Aside from the obvious policy violations of misconduct and horseplay, there is the violation of policy in regards to beverages in an area designated for computer use, and last but certainly not least, a blatant disregard for the fact that Mr. Ford is a member of your department management team.” He unfurled a handkerchief and laid it squarely over the puddle of soda on the floor. “Since neither of you are wearing your department issued name tags, please introduce yourselves.”
The girl and boy exchanged looks that were almost reverent.
Finally the young lady turned and held out her hand. “Chloe.”
“A pleasure to meet you. And I believe she referred to you, sir, as Chewie?”
The boy stood up and wiped his hand on his pants before offering it. “Uhm. It’s Scott. Chewie is a nickname. We’re both fans of Star Wars. She’s…Chloe, I mean, is Darth Vader.”
Mark said, “I have to get out of here. Forget it.” He walked past Antonio. “Let’s go pull the tapes up through casino surveillance.”
“Those techno-nazis?” Chewie crossed his arms. “They have these big budget pinpoint recognition programs that do all the hard work, and they take all the credit.”
“Good, that’s what we need. Come on Antonio.”
“Hey by the way,” said Chloe, reaching out and putting a finger to Antonio’s lapel. “We’re big fans of your work.”
Antonio arched an eyebrow. “My work?”
“Show him, Chewie.”
Chewie dropped into the chair and began furiously typing on the keyboard. “We’ve been watching you for awhile now. We put together a string of clips. Kind of like your greatest hits.”
Mark stopped at the door. “You can’t be serious.”
Chloe waved him over. “You gotta see this.”
Antonio was taken aback. “I’m not sure that we have time to watch my…greatest hits, as you call them.”
“We’ve got time.” Mark walked over to the computer terminal. “Bring it up, Chewie.”
A square of light fell across the floor as Chloe opened a mini-frig under the counter. “Anybody want a soda?”
“I’ll take one,” said Mark.
Antonio glared at him as best as the low-light allowed.
“Okay, here we go,” said Chewie. “This is great. I can’t believe you’re actually here watching this. Chloe, can you believe this?”
“Be cool,” she said, popping the tab on her soda.
Chewie grabbed the mouse and maneuvered the arrow on-screen. “I added some stuff. Well, you’ll see.”
The media player enlarged to fill the screen. The image was Antonio and Sonny Wu striding down the 23rd floor hallway, the camera somewhere above and behind them. Over the image a title appeared:
Antonio vs. Godzilla
Mark nearly choked on his Diet Coke.
The footage played on as the title exploded on the screen; letters spun off to infinity. There was a quick flash as the angle changed to another security camera. Antonio and Sonny were standing outside a Villa door. Antonio reached up and knocked. A cartoon dialogue balloon erupted over Antonio’s head.
I will use my key! You had better stand back!
Mark barked out laughter and clapped Chewie on the back. “This is great.”
“We don’t have sound,” said Chewie, obviously blushing even in the alien glow of the monitor. “I had to make up what they were saying.”
“Just wait,” said Chloe. “It gets way better.”
Antonio stifled the urge to remove himself from the room.
On-screen, the digital Antonio swiped his electronic key through the door lock and carefully pushed it open. A very large iguana hastily escaped through the open door, wriggling sideways, clawing madly at the carpet, and whisking between Antonio legs to dash down the hallway, tail sideswiping behind. The laptop speakers roared with the gargantuan bellow of Godzilla.
“I downloaded that from YouTube,” said Chewie.
Mark leaned closer to the screen. “Please tell me it’s not over.”
“Oh no, there’s more.”
Mark looked over his shoulder at Antonio. “There’s more. Stop looking at me like that.” He turned back to the screen. “Can you turn it up?”
The camera switched again. Now the iguana was shuffling down the hallway towards the camera and disappeared from view at the bottom of the screen. Antonio and Sonny came running down the hall.
Antonio’s dialogue balloon appeared: Halt, vile creature!
“He would say that,” said Mark.
The scene changed. Antonio and Sonny stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their backs to the camera, facing a corner of the elevator landing. Just beyond them the iguana could be seen, mouth open, hissing at them, tail slapping the walls as it spun around to find escape.
Antonio: I’ll trap the beast with my indestructible tuxedo!
The real Antonio shook his head. “Ridiculous.”
Mark waved him off. “Shush.”
On-screen, Antonio leapt forward. Using his jacket like a safari net, he tossed it over the iguana and pinned down the sides with his hands. One of the sleeves in the jacket bulged and wriggled. A second later it expelled the iguana from the cuff.
Antonio: Curses!
Sonny: It’s coming for me!
The audience in the surveillance room leaned towards the screen, save Antonio, who unfortunately was quite aware of the final scene, the results of which he had never disclosed to anyone else and neither had Sonny Wu.
The camera-angle switched. At first it was just an empty entryway that led to the elevator landings, but then Sonny jumped into view, arms waving frantically, hopping on one leg, the iguana clutching the thigh he currently had cocked upright.
Mark slapped the countertop. “Wow!”
As the finale came to its apex, Antonio jumped into view on the screen. He ripped open Sonny’s tuxedo jacket, undid his belt with a few deft flicks of his wrist, and began to yank down his pants.
Sonny: Hey, buy me a drink first!
Antonio: I’m saving your life!
In one fluid movement, Antonio tugged Sonny’s pants down over the wriggling iguana, bundling it inside the trousers as he jerked them from Sonny’s dancing feet. This accomplished he tied the legs in a quick knot and cinched the belt tight to close the waistline. Sonny stood by, breathless, in white briefs. Another Godzilla roar rumbled from the speakers. The video snapped off and was replaced by a still image of Antonio superimposed over a Tokyo backdrop of neon towers and cheering citizens.
Mark was bent over, hands on knees. “Oh God.” He wiped his eyes. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years.”
“It’s supposed to be an homage.” Chewie looked up at Antonio, a worried expression on his face. “We really are big fans of your work.”
Chloe nodded furiously. “When you were getting Shannon Moon today out in the port? The umbrella trick was genius.”
“Get this,” said Chewie. “I’m thinking of doing a Singing in the Rain montage with that one. It’ll be wicked. Want me to email it to you when I’m done?”
“Yes,” said Mark.
Antonio had been massaging the pressure points on his wrists. He politely said, “I’m glad that you find my exploits amusing, and honored that you would devote so much time to…enhancing them.”
Chewie smiled over at Chlo
e. “I knew he’d talk like that.”
Chloe shrugged. “I thought you’d sound more like Obi-Wan.”
“Okay, fun’s over,” said Mark, crushing his empty soda can in his fist. “Even though I’d love to stay and see the rest of Antonio’s greatest hits, we’re in the middle of an investigation here.”
“Really?” Chewie’s eyes were wide. “Right now?”
“Sweet,” said Chloe. “What do you want to see?”
Antonio attempted to focus his thoughts. It was somewhat disconcerting being in the presence of two strangers who were such authorities on his comings and goings. Not only that, but they appeared to be star struck by him as well. It gave him empathy for Shannon Moon, who lived her life in the presence of her fans, multiplied by the millions. It spurred his mind to action. He was not concerned, presently, with the millions of fans who studied Shannon Moon from a distance, but was in fact in search of the one man who provided them with most of their study materials.
“There is a rather persistent paparazzo that follows Shannon Moon and Brandon wherever they go. He is the individual I locked inside the limousine shortly after their arrival.”
Chewie clapped his hands together. “That was awesome!”
“Quite,” said Antonio. “However, we have not been able to locate him since that incident occurred. He abandoned his hotel room and is currently on the loose somewhere within the casino. We presume he remained in the hotel tower to be near his prey.”
“Makes sense,” said Chloe. “We didn’t really get a good look at him on the valet footage. He ducked into the limo and was off camera after that.”
“He might have swiped an Engineering uniform,” said Mark. “Coulda used it to get into the Sachem Suite yesterday or late last night.”
“He may have gained admittance to the suite during second shift,” said Antonio. “We’d like to review the footage to see if we can gain some insight into his methods. It may lead us to his current whereabouts.”
Chewie turned back to his keyboard. “Maybe between eight o’clock and midnight last night?”
“For starters,” said Mark. “We can backtrack from there.”
Chloe asked, “What’s he look like?”
“Black hair, tan pants, blue jacket, camera. They call him the Kamikaze Cam.”
Chewie paused in his typing. “Asian?”
Antonio studied his face. “Have you seen him?”
“Dude,” said Chewie, turning to his laptop and lacing his fingers together, pushing them out like a pianist ready to hit the first note of a recital, “we see everything.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was 2:17am when Greg Sheffield, the event coordinator, called an end to the first round of the tournament.
“We have thirty players going to tomorrow’s final round of the Native Sun Casino’s Million Dollah Texas Hold ‘Em Tournament!” He aimed the microphone at his teeth and threw his arm forward like a javelin. “Our chip leader is Sadiya al-Jamil Ullah,” he sucked in a breath, “with a whopping Two Hundred and Nineteen Thousand buck-a-roonis!”
There was much clapping for Sadiya, and just as much eye-rolling.
“He sounds like a fag cowboy,” said Cash.
Sadiya frowned. “What is a buck-a-rooni?”
Greg Sheffield’s voice screeched over the applause. “Get on up and tip yer hat, little lady!”
Sadiya stood slowly, glaring at him across the crowd. She raised her pink cowboy hat over her head, and photographers began snapping pictures. She then reached up and cupped one of her breasts with her free hand. The camera clicks trickled away to be replaced by whoops and laughter.
Greg Sheffield coughed into the microphone. “Okay, good, thank you,” he said, all traces of his Texan drawl forgotten. Waving her down, he shook his head and slapped his smile back on his face. “All players will be back here tomorrow for the final Shoot-Out at 10pm sharp! Good night everyone – and good luck!”
Cash slapped his hand down on his chip bag. “He thinks he’s the Connecticut Dick Clark.” He jutted his chin out towards Max’s chip bag. “What’d you end up with, kid?”
“Well I tried to clean out Sadiya but she had too much of a lead on me. When she went all in with me I couldn’t bust her out.” Max sealed the strip on the security bag. “Forty-two thousand. Barely more than I started with.”
“Better than a free beer at the bar. That’s all some of these poor jerks got.”
Max accepted a pen from the dealer and signed his signature across the seal on the bag. “How’d you do?”
Cash shrugged his thick shoulders, making the collar of his tuxedo jump. “Eighty or ninety grand, something like that. So what was the hold-up with you getting here? I ain’t never seen you late for anything. You’re one of them anal receptive types.”
“It’s anal retentive. And I just like to stick to plan.”
“Fussy. That’s the word that describes you.”
Max sighed. “There was a problem upstairs.”
“Don’t tell me they bumped you outta the corner suite. Everybody knows that’s your suite, Max. You got a medical condition – you gotta have the same stuff over and over. What’s it called? Obsessive convulsive.”
“It’s compulsive. And I’m not that either. I like things to stay the same.”
“Remember when they bumped you outta your regular suite at the Taj? You didn’t sleep for two days straight. You had to move the bed to the other side of the room and trick yourself into thinking it was your regular room. Then the fucking headboard was bolted to the wall and wouldn’t move and every time you looked over at that wall – ”
“I remember!”
Cash whipped out his cell phone. “Want me to call Damien Valentine? That host is wrapped around my pinky so tight I’m thinking of having him gold-plated so he matches my watch. He’ll get you your suite.”
“Look, I have the corner suite. Antonio always gets me the corner suite. I’m all set.”
“Damn right. They have to treat you like one of them handicaps. They have to keep your special room, you know? They gotta respect that.”
“I’m not handicapped.” Max lowered his voice. “It’s a phobia.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying, kid. Listen, I get it. Your parents never took you anywhere but casinos. You never went to school like other kids. Never did karate, soccer, none of that shit. You haven’t been socialized, is all. I was watching one of them academic channels. There was this monkey born in captivity in a circus…”
“Oh come on…”
“Just listen. So this monkey never went outside the cage or the tent. Not once. Then these do-gooders drive him out to Africa in some Jeep to let him go. You know what he did?”
Max waved at a waitress for a drink. “He never left the Jeep.”
“Wrong. He jumps right outta the Jeep and starts running around like a nut. Going in circles, waving his arms. He’s happy as can be. All the people in the Jeep are clapping and crying. Then this music starts playing. Sappy stuff. Can’t remember the name of the song.”
“Born Free?”
“Maybe. Anyway this lion comes outta nowhere and rips this monkey’s head right off! Suddenly the thing ain’t running around no more. Its body’s just laying there twitching, and it poops itself. That happens when you die.” Cash downed the rest of his beer. “Saddest fucking thing I ever saw.”
Max gaped at him. “What the hell is the point of that story?”
“Don’t fuck with handicaps. Let them stay in their cage.”
Max accepted his champagne from the waitress and took a long swallow.
“Hey, cheers,” said Cash.
Max accepted the clink of the empty beer bottle. “You always know just what to say to make me feel better.”
Cash reached around and clapped him on the back. “You’re welcome, kid. Where you going now?”
“Back to my cage.”
Before he could stand Sadiya came up next to him and removed his pink cowboy hat. �
��I am taking this. Spoils of war.”
Max rubbed his hands through his hair. “Congratulations on winning the round.”
“You are coming back to fold your cards some more tomorrow?”
“I’m feeling better, thanks for asking.”
“Good. I arranged for us to be at the same table.”
“Okay.”
“You say okay for everything.” She took a deep breath, her breasts straining at her sequined top. “How about if you come to my room for fucking? You say okay again, cowboy?”
Cash pushed Max back and leaned forward. “Let’s keep this civilized. Nobody fucks Max.”
Max frowned.
“Well not nobody,” said Cash, patting Max on the shoulder. “I’m sure somebody has done it before.” He stood abruptly and yanked Max to his feet, shouldering him away from the table. “See what I mean about the lion? Don’t look her in the eyes.”
Sadiya called out behind them. “Tomorrow I take the rest of your chips – then we celebrate!”
Cash waved his thick arm to shoo away the flock of tuxedos milling before them. “Them Arab women got big bushes you know,” he said. “They can’t shave them. Some kind of religious thing.” He catapulted them both towards the bar and jabbed two fingers into the air. “Champagne!” He propped Max up next to him and tipped back his rattlesnake cowboy hat. “So, speaking of bush. Are you getting any?”
Max tucked his finger into his shirt collar and tugged. “It’s hot in here.”
“Do you at least whack off once in awhile?”
Max groaned and gulped champagne.
Cash wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “You can’t be tensed up for poker. I used to play with a guy that would get a blowjob under the table every four hours. He was impossible to bluff. Cool as a cucumber.”
“I have to go call Antonio.”
Cash rolled his eyes. “I think that guy is a fag. No offense. I know you’re friends and all. But who acts like that in real life? He’s too fussy.”
“You said I was fussy.”
Cash eyeballed him suspiciously over the rim of his champagne flute.
Max pushed away from the bar. “I’m leaving.”
“Wait!” Cash blurted champagne out of his mouth. “I got it! You have to go fuck Sadiya.”
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