Luck of the Dragon

by Susannah Scott

  “I can start over. So can you.”

  “I like it here. So do you.”

  “I just…I’ve got a bad feeling about this casino thing. Alec Gerald is expecting me in the morning to appraise his exhibit.”

  “So do it.” Joey shrugged. “The guy is in a big hurry to get it open. Betcha you can get some good juice off him.”

  Juice, as in extra-money juice, not the juicy, tingly things Alec Gerald made her feel. “I just gotta bad feeling.”

  “I’m really sorry that I had to bring you into this one.” Joey’s apology was sincere.

  “I know.”

  Joey’s phone rang out the Flight of the Valkyries. He looked at the phone. “It’s Gino. He must have gotten the keycard from the drop.”

  He walked to her dining room window and answered. “Hello…Yes, sir…I know, she is just that damn good…What?” The single word question was a sucking black hole for Lucy’s apprehension. “I can’t speak for her, but I can arrange a meet…tonight? Okay.” Joey disconnected and walked back into the kitchen.

  “What?” Lucy clutched her mug like a shield. “What now?”

  “There’s a small glitch.”

  “What?”

  “The keycard only opens the exterior door. Alec Gerald’s thumb opens the jewel cases.”

  Lucy nodded.

  “You knew?” Joey looked incredulous. “How could you not tell me? I could have called him first with the information. Then he would’ve owed me.”

  “I did what you asked. I don’t care about getting in the black with the mob.”

  “Well that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.” Joey marched toward her side of the bar. “You think with our Dad, sly Joe-the-Cheat, that we were ever going to get out of the bed with these guys? This is our bed. Our house. Our everything.”

  “We. Are. Not. Crooks.”

  “I’m not a crook.” Joey smiled and stepped back. “I’m a…what do you call it…an adventure capitalist.”

  “Venture capitalist,” she corrected. “Big difference.”

  “Whatever, you with all your high-falutin’ degrees. You’re still my sister, but you’re a big stick in the ass sometimes.”

  “It’s stick in the mud, Joey.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “You know the right phrase, you just like to pretend you’re dumb. Either that or you’re just too damn lazy to get the words right.”

  Joey smiled, not at all offended. “Hey, if I can get something with no effort, that does not make me lazy. That makes me smart. Smarter than you, college girl. How many years did it take for you to get a piece of paper anyway? I could have gotten one forged for you in two weeks.”

  “Eight years. And it’s more than a piece of paper.” Lucy shook her head and set aside her tea unfinished and cold. “It’s the knowledge. No one can take that away from me.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Joey smiled, all charming, central-casting, adventure capitalist. “You know you love me.”

  “I do, but…” Lucy’s internal alarm chimed at Joey’s use of the “L” word. Bad. Bad. Bad. “I heard you say ‘I can’t speak for her.’ I’m guessing the her is me?”

  “He wants you to go back in. Get the thumbprint from Gerald.”

  “No.” Lucy shook her head. “I’m on a plane out of here in the morning—with you.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Joey said with his real-Joey voice. “Get it through your over-educated head.”

  Lucy chewed on her trembling lower lip. She was used to the abrupt changes in Joey’s personality when he was up to something, but his real-Joey voice meant he was serious.

  “Gino’s spies said you spent a little alone time with Alec Gerald?” Joey asked, lifting a questioning brow.

  “I didn’t do anything. We just talked about appraising the exhibit.”

  “Gino said he would cut us in for 10% each—”

  “I’m not going back to that casino. Ever.”

  “When a guy like Gino offers to cut you in on his juice, you can’t say no.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t take the easy deal, he moves on to the hard deal.”

  “Quit talking gangster and just spit it out.”

  “He can make you help him.”

  “How?”

  Joey smiled. “Because he knows you love me too much to let me swim with the fishes.”

  Again with the “L” word. Lucy gripped the edge of the counter behind her. It was ice cold and as unbending as Joey’s heart.

  She was in trouble.

  …

  Lucy followed her brother through the dimly lit Crazy Stallion bingo parlor. Although they were only a little north of the Strip, it felt like they had stepped back in time to their childhood: Sunday bingo games, interchangeable trailer parks, and apartments with occasional electricity.

  She was cold down to her bones, but her hand sweated on a plastic bag holding the expensive loaner red dress and designer shoes she had worn to Alec’s casino. She tightened her wrap sweater over her white tank top and stepped across the entrance, being careful where she placed her flip-flops. The shoes were a deliberate message; she was dressed for laundry, not larceny.

  Inside, cigarette smoke billowed like a ghost around crowded banquet tables. People hunched over bingo cards, and at thirty-second intervals they lifted expectant eyes to hear the next number. The metronome of misery had not changed in fifteen years.

  “Be nice, Luce.” Joey peered at her, a spring of excitement in his step. “Just hear what he has to say. He may have a regular gig for me.”

  “You want your own racket?” This surprised her.

  “Yeah, why not?” He gave her a wink. “No 401K but it’ll sure pay out better than your crummy stock market.”

  Lucy was not happy he wanted to get in deeper with Gino.

  On the customer side of a worn velvet rope, they stopped near a brass sign that read Manager. “We’re here to see Mr. Narcisco,” Joey said to the burly looking dude with arms the size of Lucy’s legs.

  The dude leered at Lucy. “Strippers audition next door.”

  “I. Am. Not. A. Stripper.” Lucy glared at him.

  “Tell Mr. Narcisco that Joey and his sister are here to see him, as requested.”

  The man took his time about entering the office.

  “Joey.” Lucy stepped forward, trying to catch her brother’s shifty gaze. “I’m not doing anything else illegal.”

  “I know. I know.” Joey pulled her closer. “We just gotta be polite.”

  The burly man returned and motioned them around the rope.

  The enforcer’s inner sanctum was gold and red velvet. A tacky life-size picture of Sinatra hung behind his desk.

  “Joey.” Gino Narcisco, aka the Chicago-based Maceonelli family’s enforcer, greeted him brusquely. “Glad you could help me out with this.” Gino ambled around his desk, displaying a physique that looked like he could bench press 300 pounds. He stopped in front of them and swayed side to side, making Lucy feel like an involuntary snake charmer.

  She stepped back and tightened her ponytail.

  “Ah, Bellissima.” Gino reached for her hand and kissed her cold knuckles with old-world courtesy. “This must be the beauty who managed to get a private meeting with Alec Gerald.” Gino eyed her up and down from behind his dark glasses. Lucy sensed he was more than your average wise guy, a constrictor with the bite of the death adder. “Those are beautiful gems on your ears.”

  “Thank you—”

  “What are those? Emeralds? Peridots?”

  “They’re green sapphires.”

  “Sapphires, no kidding?” Gino leered again at her ears.

  “Look, Mr. Narcisco, we had a deal.” Lucy set the plastic bag with the expensive outfit on his desk. “I got the card for you. Joey’s debt is paid in full. We’re square.”

  The enforcer spread his hands wide like her words shocked the gold rings off his fingers. “Lucy, Lucy.” He shook his head. “We aren’t doing business yet. I’m hungry. I ca
n’t do business on an empty stomach, it makes me cranky.”

  Gino gestured a thick knuckled hand toward the office door. “I bet you’ve never had a Crazy Stallion steak.” He pinched his fingers to his lips and made a much-ma kissy sound. “Ex-cell-ente.” He tromped from the room, shaking the pictures on the wall with his heavy steps.

  “Geeze, Luce.” Joey grabbed her arm and pulled her through the smoke-filled bingo hall toward the restaurant. “Don’t piss the guy off. We’ll both wind up in an unmarked grave.”

  Lucy tried to yank free. “You’re hurting me.”

  Joey stumbled and fell to one knee, so that Lucy stood looking down at him on the stained red carpet. She wanted to kick him while he was down, in the ribs, like she would have as a kid. Except Joey always grabbed her ankle and pulled her down, too. A life lesson she should have already learned.

  Joey scrambled to his feet. “Did you trip me?” His face was blotched red.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I want to leave. I’m not eating a steak with that man.”

  “Leave, then.” Joey straightened his clothes. “But I wasn’t kidding about the graves. We’re in this now. There is no way out except to do what he wants.”

  “You never intended to say no to him at all, did you?” Hurt spread through her chest at Joey’s manipulation. “You’re turning into Dad.” Her voice broke over the words. “How can you…you know where this is headed.”

  Joey pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could block out her words. “Luce, I need this.”

  Dizziness swirled through Lucy’s head, and she gripped her elbows tight, determined not to reach to him for stability.

  “Can we talk about it later?” Joey gave her a raw look. He understood it was wrong, what he’d done, dragging her into the mess. The silent acknowledgement would’ve been comforting, if she didn’t know there would be a next time. There always was a next time with Joey. The certainty of it made her chest tighten and her vision blur. The smoky air pulled down the back of her throat like stale, expired poison.

  Deadly all the same.

  She had to get out of there.

  “You two coming?” Gino called from the dark restaurant doorway.

  “In a minute,” Joey said and looked at her for confirmation. Lucy struggled to breathe, but the pained look on Joey’s face had her nodding yes, even as her head screamed no. Joey hurried to the restaurant and clapped Gino on the shoulder as he entered.

  “Lucy,” Gino yelled from the door. “I’ve got your brother in here. You’ll want to come on now.” Gino’s words were courtliness held up by threat.

  Lucy considered running straight out the handprint-smudged entry doors, into the dark concealing night, away from Gino…take a taxi to McCarran and get on a plane… She had contacts all over the world…curator job offers galore…she could start over on her own. Sell everything in Vegas through an agent.

  But what about Joey?

  Would Joey be all right without her? Her heart stuttered with fear.

  Except for the few years she had been in Europe completing her Ph.D, they had always been together. Even when she had been abroad, they had talked by email or phone every day. They had promised to always be there for each other, although that was mostly before his gambling had become such a problem.

  Gino started toward her, his steps heavy even on the concrete floor. “I’m starting to feel stood up here.” His words were joking, but his smile, and eyes, were flat.

  She couldn’t leave Joey alone in this mess. Gino would eat him for breakfast, and Joey would never forgive her if she ran out on him. She would just have to convince Gino that using her and Joey was a bad idea. They were inexperienced, with bad family luck.

  Nobody in Vegas would risk bad juju when they were planning a score.

  “Coming.” Lucy walked forward, curiously calm. Her relaxed manner was more disquieting than her earlier panic. Was she crazy? They said it ran in families. She remembered reading that the early twenties were especially vulnerable times.

  She was overdue.

  Their mother had gone off the deep end when their Dad went to prison. She would pull all her clothes out of drawers and stuff them in a suitcase, then run outside barefoot, only to circle back looking lost and confused. It had taken Lucy several frightening episodes of watching her leave, lugging a bag bigger than herself, before she could believe that their Mom was coming back and not abandoning them. Lucy would help her refold her clothes and put them away in the drawers, every damn time, over and over.

  Gino waited for her to reach him and ushered her inside the restaurant. The darkness of the room was momentarily blinding. When her eyes adjusted, she saw the thick-armed guy from earlier and two other muscle-types leaning against the wall. Four against two, counting Gino. Those were bad odds even in Joey’s head. The air seemed to leave the room, but she did not flinch or step back. She’d survived bullies before and knew better than to cower.

  Lucy sat beside Joey and Gino at a square four-top table and rested her napkin on her lap. A candle flickered inside a red glass globe on the table, making Gino look even more snakelike, coiled and ready to strike.

  “Get us three porterhouses and milks,” Gino told a plump waitress whose cleavage hung out of her black uniform.

  “I’ll take a Jack and Coke,” Joey called after her, but the woman did not stop.

  “I call the shots here,” Gino said. “And I say you’ll have what I’m having.”

  “But I don’t like milk.” Joey sounded like a whiny kid.

  Gino picked up a steak knife and stabbed the table between Joey’s fingers. “You’ll have what I say you’ll have.”

  Lucy pushed back from the table in surprise, almost flipping her chair. One of the burly dudes cleared his throat behind her and scooted her back to the table. Too close.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  “What was that for?” Joey held his hands together at his chest, looking offended.

  “You eat what I offer you or next time, I take off a finger.”

  “I told you, I’m in.”

  The enforcer turned toward Lucy. “I hear your brother here making noises, but I hear nothing from you. I think you still need some convincing.”

  She was trapped against the table, trapped in this deal with Gino. Cold sweat broke out on her brow, and she saw her reflection in the metal napkin holder, pale, drawn, shaky. Her confidence drained away with the blood in her face.

  “Joey and I are amateurs. You don’t want us in on this.” Her voice sounded weak to her ears.

  “Lucy!” Joey kicked her under the table.

  Lucy winced and moved her legs away from him. “We’ll only mess things up.” She tried to give Gino her most beseeching look.

  The waitress returned with three full glasses of milk and set them on the table.

  “True.” Gino took a gulp of his milk. In the red candlelight, his teeth looked fluorescent white. “But nobody gets alone with Alec Gerald, his men are always hovering around, and in you waltz, testa rossa bellissima…I say you’re gonna get this done for me.”

  “No,” Lucy whispered.

  Gino pounded the table, making the candle flame flicker. “All those jewels—they belong to me! That whole casino belongs to me! I’m taking it, and you’re gonna help me.”

  Lucy shook her head, staring at the rough weave of the tablecloth for courage.

  “Tell you what.” Gino leaned back, and she thought maybe he was considering her argument. “You do this, or I kill Joey here.” Gino clapped Joey on the shoulder, all friendly-like.

  Lucy’s heart jumped in her chest.

  Joey frowned. “That’s not necessary, Gino, just give her some time to get used to the plan. She’ll come around.”

  “Your daddy would be ashamed of you, girl.” Gino squeezed Joey’s shoulder.

  Joey’s frown deepened, and he fought a wince. Gino cranked his palm into Joey’s arm joint until he cried out in pain and fell off the ch
air. The waitress returned with three plates loaded with steak and baked potatoes with all the fixin’s. The room was quiet while the waitress put the plates on the table, except for Joey’s whimpering from the floor.

  “Get off the floor, you mamaluke.” Gino cut a generous hunk of raw steak away from the bone and chewed it slowly. Blood oozed onto the plate, making a splotchy canvas of pink grease. “Eat, before it gets cold.”

  Joey regained his seat, kept his gaze down, and dove into his plate like he had never had a meal before.

  Lucy’s throat tightened and she swallowed hard. How was this going to end? Would Gino let them leave? Would he really kill Joey? She pushed food around her plate while the two men ate and talked shop as if it were Friday night dinner at Mazzio’s.

  “Eddie Falcone has a pawn shop that needs protection… A couple of slot machines need a regular pick-up guy. Someone in the linen business might need some talking to…” The words floated over Lucy’s head like so much bad air. She had to get out of there. Get back to her house. Behind her gate. Lock the doors and pack.

  Gino swallowed his last bite and used his napkin to wipe his face. “Okay. It’s done then. You’ll get the print. There’ll be a drop in the casino bathroom, same as before.”

  Lucy shook her head, exasperated and terrified.

  In a flash, Gino embedded the steak knife in the back of Joey’s hand. Joey’s screams filled her ears.

  “Stop!” Lucy tried to get up but the burly thug held her chair snug to the table.

  Gino smiled, and Lucy knew his snake’s fangs had just sunk deep into her jugular. “Stop being a finocchio, Joe…or I’ll give you something to really cry about.” The three muscle-guys laughed heartily at the scene.

  Joey’s muffled cries turned into bottled-up moans that pulled at her heart with tortuous fingers. She all but felt the knife piercing her own hand.

  “Let him go.” She was surprised by how steady her voice sounded.

  “It’s up to you, testa rossa.” Gino twisted the knife a quarter turn. Joey cried out before squeezing his hand over his mouth and closing his eyes. “All I need to hear are the words, ‘Yes Mr. Narcisco, I’ll get you that print.’”