Dark Around the Edges

by Cari Z

  “I’m just saying,” Devon said after a moment, “that I’m capable of doing my job, and you need to recognize that. You don’t see me fretting over you and Jackie Miranda, do you? No, because I trust you to be able to do what you say you can do. Please do me the same courtesy.”

  “I do trust you, Dev.”

  “Then let me handle Amistad Dibellious, and you worry about the knife-wielding, gun-toting psycho and his horde of merry murderers, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” They lapsed into silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Maggie turned around three times on his lap and ended up curled into a ball. Rio passed over a brush, and Devon spent the next hour grooming the tiny dog until her coat was fluffy and shining, and she was about as blissed out as could be. Devon had never been a dog person, most of them seemed to sense that there was something different about him and disliked him because of it, but Maggie didn’t care. He had hands to pet her with and access to food and water: he was Backup Daddy in her puppy brain. Or at least he liked to think so. Devon didn’t know if Rio lived with someone else or not; he didn’t know anything about where Rio lived, actually; it was one more layer in the many that made this man so mysterious, but the practice wasn’t too unusual for Safeguard employees. After all, their business was dangerous. Sometimes it didn’t pay to advertise.

  Devon already knew that Rio wasn’t gonna go for staying in a suite in one of the casinos, and so he didn’t bother to ask. He let Rio pick a Motel 8 that was within spitting distance of the Strip, and didn’t even complain when Rio got a room with two beds. It was fine, it wasn’t like they were a couple or anything, they were just friends and partners in this operation. But if Devon had things his way, he wasn’t going to be sleeping alone tonight. Rio would just have to buck up and learn to cuddle.

  “So,” Devon said as they settled into their new digs, “what do you think, shall we split up? I’ve got to get new clothes and figure out when Amistad’s next show is. You’re many wonderful things, but sartorially conscientious isn’t one of them. You’d just be bored.”

  “I don’t know, there’s a lot to be said for watching you undress,” Rio said with a smile, and the little compliment thrilled Devon all the way down to his toes. “But yeah, it’s probably best if we split for now. I’ve got to figure out where Miranda and his crew are holed up and plan a way to get in.”

  “What is it, Saturday?” Devon asked rhetorically. “The last time I was here, he and his crew hung out in Pure on Saturdays. He provides the club’s bouncers and bodyguards for celebrities, and in exchange he and his boys get to hang out in the Red Room and drink for free. It’s in Caesar’s Palace,” he added. “The club doesn’t open until after ten, but it might be best if you do your business with him before that if you don’t want to attract too much attention. He likes to stake out his spot as soon as he can.” Like a lion looking out at a herd of antelope, picking out his prey. Jackie Miranda had a reputation as a ladies’ man, but he tended to break his playthings. The girls always survived, but they never really recovered. “He’ll be a lot easier to deal with before he’s started partying.”

  “So you’re saying that basically I need to get to him before he has too much of a chance to be an asshole,” Rio said, laying back on the bed and letting Maggie run back and forth over his legs.

  “That’s half the people in Vegas.” Devon scoffed. “Being an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.”

  “I know, remember? That’s why I’m taking care of his half of this little gift package for Lynlis.”

  “I could go with you,” Devon offered. “I bet I can finish with Amistad before Pure even opens.”

  “I’ll manage fine,” Rio assured him. He leaned to the side and rummaged in his bag for a moment, pulled out a cheap phone and tossed it to Devon. “My number’s programmed into it already. Keep it on you and call me if you need help.”

  “Aww, baby.” Devon smiled and kissed Rio’s cheek. “You saved a burner phone for me. You do know that I could get one on the street in five minutes, right?”

  “That one’s also got an emergency transponder that will broadcast your location to me and only me if you get into trouble,” Rio said. “No random GPS software for the whole world to look at, no tracker to bother home base about. Maria sent me a whole batch of them six months ago, and if I don’t start using them she might not give me any more toys, so. There you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you need money for clothes?”

  Devon tilted his head and struck a pose. “Darling, the places where I’m headed are going to be ecstatic to be dressing me by the time I’m through with them.”

  “So you’re going to con them into giving you clothes.”

  “No conning involved! Well, maybe just a little,” Devon amended when he saw Rio’s look. “But I’m not going to lie. I’m just going to exaggerate a bit. A teensy weensy little tiny bit.” He glanced over at Maggie. “And she would help things along, actually. Can I borrow her?”

  “Need her leash?”

  “No, I think I can find an appropriate piece of twine between here and Sunset Boulevard.”

  Rio stared hard at him. “If you bring my dog back in some cutesy little sweater or patent leather booties, we’re going to have words, and you’re not going to like them.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it!” Devon protested. Booties? Pshaw. He could do so much better.

  “Sure you wouldn’t.” Rio handed over one of the room keys. “Have fun, Dev.”

  “Thanks, baby.” Devon picked up an excited Maggie, blew Rio a kiss and flounced out the door. Fun was exactly what he planned on having.

  Chapter Seven

  The Strip was more than just casinos, but not much more. That was because the casinos themselves were everything from clothiers to restaurants to car rentals, all in an effort to be your one-stop shop so that you didn’t need to look anywhere else for what you wanted. It was rather impressive to the wide-eyes, who visited as part of package deals and probably weren’t inclined to move around much anyway, because even stasis in Vegas was more exciting than what they were used to.

  Devon wasn’t one of these tourists. He knew where the system’s weak spots were, and just how hard to press to get them to bend for him. That in mind, he mussed his hair a bit and untucked his shirt before stumbling into Misura, the fashionable men’s clothing store inside the Mirage casino.

  A pretty young man wearing a fairly nice suit headed over to him. “Good afternoon, welcome to—oh my goodness!” His hands were on Devon’s shoulders immediately, helping to prop him up. “Are you okay? What happened?” His eyes fell on Maggie. “And omigod, what a cute puppy!”

  Devon rested one hand on the young man’s shoulder, making it seem as though the contact was settling him. He wasn’t using his allure yet; he wanted to see how far he could get before he had to. “I’m, well,” he gestured at himself, “all right, overall. Not exactly pretty, but I’ll be okay, except I’m not going to survive the evening once my boss finds out I lost everything except his baby in the attack.” He cuddled Maggie with his free arm, and she did her best to look adorable.

  “Attack?” The young man’s eyes widened. His name tag read Henry. “Omigod, were you mugged? And is this the baby?”

  “I got Tased,” Devon continued, letting his voice shake a little. “And I lost my car and all my things and my boss is going to kill me for being so careless once he gets here tonight, because he always talks about how I’m a reflection of him and I have to be perfect, like, all the time, and he isn’t going to care that my life is in tatters because I’m supposed to be getting things ready for him, but how am I supposed to do that when I look like a homeless person?” He gestured at his ruined suit, his fingers lingering over the char marks. “You’re the first guy to give me the time of day.”

  “Oh you poor thing,” Henry said, “what do you need?”

  “Honestly?” Devon let his voice creak a little, like he was
just this side of crying. “Everything. I’ve got reservations for a charity gala to double-check, and the manager already turned me away once; she said I had to get him on the line to verify I am who I say I am because, well.” He waved a hand at himself. “But I can’t do that because he’ll call me incompetent and fire me, and I need this job, because no one loves this little honey like I do.” He nuzzled Maggie’s head and she licked the end of his nose.

  “She is so sweet,” Henry agreed before his eyes popped wide. “Wait, did you say her name is Hhica?”

  “That’s what she’s called.” Occasionally. But everything Devon didn’t say worked in his favor, and he could see the recognition dawning in Henry’s face.

  “You mean you work for…”

  “A big guy. Big. Huuuge. You’d know him if you—”

  “No, I know, I know! I read People!” Henry reached out and patted Maggie with something close to awe. “And he’d really fire you for getting mugged?”

  “And for losing my wallet, my clothes and my iPhone with all of my contacts programmed into it in the process.”

  “Gosh, so he’s really as mean as they say?”

  “Meaner.” Still no real lies; after all, Rio could be mean when the situation calls for it. Maybe not quite on the level of asshole as the music mogul Henry was thinking about, but mean nonetheless.

  Henry fingered the sleeve of his suit nervously. “Do you just need some clothes? I mean, would that help?”

  Devon wilted a little. “It would help so much, but I can’t pay you yet, not until he gets in tonight. I’ve already had to cancel the card he gave me for expenses. I would be sure to tell him who helped me, though.” Devon smiled winningly. “He’s not the nicest guy, but he does give credit where credit is due.” Devon brought his lips over next to Henry’s ear. “And I would give you and your store a lot of credit, Henry.”

  Henry giggled and blushed fetchingly. He was so cute, it was almost too easy to play with him. And he wanted to be played with so badly…

  “I have to talk to my manager,” Henry said. “But I think I could make it happen. At least as a loan.”

  “Thank you so much, Henry.”

  Forty-five minutes later Devon walked away decked out in Hugo Boss and Lacoste, none of it as a loan, and Henry had been the happy recipient of one very thorough blow job. It was a perfect trade. Henry got a good story to tell his friends and Devon got what he needed without having to use his allure. Plus he got to get someone off, which was always fun. There was no latent guilt or sense of wrongness about it; Devon was a cambion, sex was what he did best. If he could practice his oral skillset on someone he liked and make them happy at the same time, well, that was one more orgasm for the “win” column in his mind.

  Devon used a different story at every shop he visited. One suit just wasn’t going to cut it, of course, he needed enough for several days and plenty of accessories as well. He was alternately a model, an actor, and a member of the British nobility. One store manager, who thought she recognized him, gave him a thousand-dollar card to spend in her casino as a parting gift. He used it on a manicure and style at the salon, got the rest of the card cashed out, then played Blackjack until he was up five grand. Devon had always been good at gambling—it was just math and a little luck, and he had a handle on both of those.

  Maggie was perfect the whole time, getting copious amounts of treats and affection and keeping her bladder in check. She walked away from it all with a gorgeous rhinestone collar that he was going to insist Rio keep, no matter how hard he complained.

  After asking around, Devon found out that Amistad Dibellious had an afternoon gig at The Palms, and his final show was at four-thirty. That left Devon with just enough time to get his new wardrobe and Maggie back to the room before he had to scoot. He took a cab back to the Motel 8 and was surprised to find the door locked. He’d been hoping that Rio would still be there, so he could show off his successes and maybe get another kiss or two before he went back to work. Or maybe another blowjob, because Devon was getting kind of antsy. But no.

  He put all his bags on the small table, made sure Maggie had done everything she needed to do outside, laid down food and water, thanked her again for her help, and then left the TV on Animal Planet before he went out. Not that he expected Maggie to be noisy, but the TV would help mask it if she was.

  The Lounge at The Palms casino was its more intimate entertainment venue, and it was…nice. The Palms wasn’t exactly center stage in the Vegas scene, but it wasn’t a bad place to be. An entertainer could be content there. Lots of them had been. For someone as young as Amistad, it was a very good gig. Clearly, however, good wasn’t good enough.

  Devon made a bit of a scene when he came in. He demanded a table close to the front and sent his first drink back when he claimed it was too weak. “Less rocks, more scotch,” he said in bored tones. “I’m ordering twenty-five year old Chivas Regal, I want to be able to taste it. Actually, no soda. Bring it neat.”

  “Yes sir.” They didn’t even think of carding him. Devon was wearing the persona of importance, hundreds of dollars put into his appearance that looked even more expensive because of how he wore it all, including a Vacheron watch that he’d gotten for a steal because it didn’t keep accurate time and Henry’s own pair of shoes, which fit him perfectly. Style, over the short term, carried so much more importance than substance.

  Soon the lights went down and the show started. Amistad Dibellious clearly wanted to be a showman. He wanted to be the next Criss Angel, if his costume was anything to go by, and he actually had the magic to back it up. Devon couldn’t tell how all his illusions worked but they were amazing: multiple versions of himself on stage at once, levitation, invisibility, and he did it all with aplomb. He used fire, he used smoke, and he was beautiful while doing it. He didn’t play to the masochistic side of things, but Devon got the feeling that this man could escape from anything if he wanted to, if the crowd had been a little younger, a little edgier, ready to see peril and appreciate it. As it was, Amistad played it relatively safe. His last trick, interestingly, was a simple card trick.

  “It was the first trick I ever learned,” he told the audience, a bashful smile on his moon-shaped face, “and I do it at every show, just to remind me of how far I’ve come since then. I need a volunteer.” His eyes scanned the crowd, but Devon has already used his allure to ensure that he was going to be the one Amistad worked his magic on. It worked, too.

  “You, sir.” He reached out to Devon and shook his hand as the spotlight fell on them. “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Vincent.”

  “And where are you from, sir?”

  Devon grinned, shark-like. “Right here in Vegas.”

  Amistad chuckled. “Okay, Vincent from Vegas. Will you verify to these people that you’ve never met me before?”

  “I’ve never laid eyes on you before,” Devon affirmed.

  “Good.” He held up a pristine deck of playing cards. “Observe, everyone, that I’m opening up this deck of cards for the first time. I’ve never touched them before this very moment.” He sliced through the tape holding the carton shut and pulled out the deck. He shuffled them elaborately before fanning them out face down in front of Devon. “Pick any card you like, sir.”

  Devon reached towards the end of the fan, then suddenly jerked his hand back to the middle. He pulled a card free.

  “Very good, sir. Now, I want you to show that card to everyone else in the audience while I shut my eyes. I won’t peek, I promise.” He squinched his eyes shut and Devon obligingly showed the rest of the audience his card, the Jack of spades. Amistad took it back and shuffled it into the deck.

  “Let me see, let me see…” He stared at the deck with a pensive expression, worked the cards slowly through his hands. “I’m sensing…is it in this suit?” He held up the two of spades. The audience murmured varying words of assent. “Good, good, we’re on the right track.” He flipped through a few more cards. “Is it…one
of the Jacks?” He held up the Jack of hearts. More murmurs of yes, and then Amistad looked at Devon apologetically. “But sir, I’m afraid I won’t be able to find the Jack of Spades in this deck, because I believe you have it on you.”

  “Do I?” Devon asked.

  “Yes, I believe you do. Check your wallet, if you please.”

  Devon pulled out his new wallet (one of the only things on him that he’d bought and paid for), opened it up and looked inside. There, resting in the very center of his cash, was the Jack of Spades. He held it up to the crowd, who started to cheer. Amistad grinned and reached out to shake his hand, and Devon held on and pulled him closer. “Meet me after the show,” he said almost silently before letting go. Amistad’s grin faded as the allure took hold, but he finished out his show with the expected whizz-bangs and invitations to come again, and then the curtain fell.

  Devon didn’t move, he just waited and ordered another drink. The audience filtered out, and slowly the Lounge became just a mostly empty room, no longer a place where magic could happen. When Amistad appeared at the corner of the stage, he’d lost the leather and the fishnets and wig, and Devon could see how old he really was, and how tired he appeared. His hair was thinning, and his hook nose was no longer mysterious, just kind of large. His hands played nervously with the same cards from his trick, and when he sat down he seemed both anticipatory and afraid. “How could I help you?”

  “Relax,” Devon said with a smile. “It’s nothing bad. I’m a manager at the Bellagio. I heard about your act and wanted to see if it was as good as the press it was getting, and I have to say, Amistad, you’ve impressed me.”

  “Oh.” The magician actually blushed. “Call me Jerry. Amistad’s just my stage name.”

  “Jerry, then,” Devon said graciously. “Would you care for a drink? My treat, of course.”