by Lamar Giles
“Chuck, it’s Nikki Tate. Favor’s due.”
GPS helped me find the Danvers Motor Inn on North Eighth Street, a dingy pay-by-the-hour/day/week spot that boasted Free HBO and New Coke Machines on its marquee. A couple of unsavory types lurked by one of those new vending machines, eye-molesting me. “Smile a little, girl!”
I snarled like I was rabid, and the mouthy one quieted down. I had no time for these motel trolls tonight. Chuck’s Lexus was parked by the exterior stairs.
On the second-floor landing, I double-checked the messages I’d received, then scoped for room 217. A discarded pizza box and an empty gin bottle rested on the walkway next to the door. I knocked hard. “Open up.”
“Put your battering ram down. I’m coming!”
The door swung inward, revealing a significantly scruffier Chuck Pearl, sweaty orbs staining the underarms of a dingy T-shirt. He backed from the doorway and made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. He slurred, “Entrez, mademoiselle.”
With my hand tucked into my bag, and my thumb caressing the trigger on my pepper spray, I stepped inside.
Chuck Pearl’s room smelled the way the motel looked, like bad decisions and last resorts. Considering what brought me here, the poetry of it was not lost.
“Living the high life, huh, Chuck,” I said, glancing around the dirt hole.
He glowered. “Seems there’s some validity to that whole ‘cheaters never prosper’ thing. Especially when you’re around.”
“How quickly we forget the glory of unbroken bones.”
“I know, I know. That’s why I told you where I stayed. Let’s get square and never see each other again.”
“Fair enough. I need a place to crash.”
“You’re a minor, right? I’m fairly new to Nevada, but I’m sure you and me in here overnight would be frowned upon.”
“Relax.” I freed the hundred-dollar bill I’d folded into my hip pocket. “The sign outside said there were vacancies. I’m not old enough to get myself a room, but they’ll rent another one to you.”
“Can I keep the change?”
“Sure, Chuck. Also, classy.”
He plucked the money from my hand. “Be right back.”
Alone in his space, I snooped. It wasn’t part of my plan, but I couldn’t resist the jumble of enticing paperwork and gadgetry on the scarred TV stand. Two dozen brochures for attractions around town. Touristy maps and a photos of the larger Strip resorts. Loose playing cards. Several dice that rolled a little too fast when I tipped them slightly. Some kind of electronic box with Velcro straps and a length of stiff wire looping from it. Underneath it all was a detailed layout of the gaming floor at the Monte Carlo, adorned with hand-drawn X marks and red ink circles.
Chuck returned and found me seated on the edge of his bed, the blueprint spread beside me. Without looking up, I asked, “What is this?”
“Mine.” He grabbed the blueprint and rolled it into a tube, then handed me a room key. “You’re two doors down. We’re even.”
“What’s that about?”
“Are you my stalker now? You know what I do. It takes knowledge and planning. It takes finesse. Just tell me, right now, if you’re going to mess that up for me, too?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to step on your action at the Monte Carlo. Question, though. You got any info like that on the Nysos?”
Chuck’s short answer: no. The Nysos was too new. Too sophisticated. It might take years to get truly detailed plans from the underground contacts he dealt with.
He had some official Nysos cards, though. Sealed from the factory. He tossed me a deck from a trunk he’d wedged between the bed and far wall. “Consider them a going-away present.”
I flipped the shrink-wrapped box over in my hands. “You don’t hate me as much as you want me to believe, Chuck. You really don’t.”
“Why do you want security information on the Nysos? I thought you were Captain Vegas, the gambling den protector.”
“When a place deserves protecting.”
“Oh, I see. A grudge.” He rubbed his face. “Will you let me do you a solid here?”
“You said we were square. If I let you do me a solid, then I owe you one day.”
In a Don Corleone voice, he said, “That day may never come.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Go on.”
“Steer clear of that place. The streets say Carlino’s bad news. Worse than most. Whatever you’ve got against his establishment, it ain’t worth it. Live to play another day. Let it go.”
“Thank you. But I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m serious when I say I can’t get into it. But I’ll tell you a story my dad once told me. You ever hear of the fifty-million-dollar coin toss?”
He shook his head, closed the trunk and used it as a seat.
“Okay, it happened in a high-roller room. Sometimes when he told the story, it was the MGM. Another time, it was the Tropicana. Or the Palms. That the location changed so much shines some doubt on its accuracy. Still, there’s a high-roller room. It’s a fight weekend, so it’s packed with a bunch of millionaires, maybe a couple of billionaires, having a good time. In walks this drunk dude with two models on his arm—”
Chuck’s grin widened. “My kind of guy.”
“Exactly. He was a tool.”
His grin vanished.
“Dude’s bragging about how he’s worth fifty million dollars. He wants to see who in the room really has balls. He’ll strip naked before he backs down from a bet. Annoying stuff. What he doesn’t know is there’s this Texas oilman in the room, and the Texas oilman was raised so humble, the bragging dude disgusts him. So Texas steps to the bragging dude and says, ‘Okay, let’s do a coin toss.’ The bragging dude’s laughing like, yeah, whatever. ‘How much?’ Texas oilman says …”
I let it hang, same way Dad did when he told it. Chuck filled in the blank. “Fifty million.”
“Yep. Texas oilman’s all like, ‘Heads I get fifty from you, tails you get fifty from me. Being that you got a fifty-fifty shot at the win, it almost seems like destiny.’ Bragging dude’s not bragging anymore. He’s looking around, waiting for people to laugh at the joke. Dead. Silence. Of course, he doesn’t agree. It’s a ridiculous idea to think someone’s going to risk everything they have in the world on a coin toss. The bragging dude backs down, and the Texas oilman says he understands. But then adds, ‘I’ma need those clothes, son.’”
“No way.” Chuck’s as wide-eyed as a kid listening to a bedtime story.
“Yes, way. The bragging dude had to strip, but the Texas oilman let him keep his shoes and boxers. He left the high-roller room like that. Alone. His dates seemed to like the Texas oilman better.
“When he was gone, the ladies ask the oilman, ‘How would you even settle a fifty-million-dollar bet?’ The oilman’s all like, he would’ve made the bragging dude get a business manager on the line to confirm he actually had the money liquid, which would’ve proved what the oilman suspected: He didn’t really have fifty million dollars. Then the girls are like, ‘What if he did have it?’ Oilman says, ‘We would’ve flipped, and if I lost, I would’ve had my manager cut him a check. I’m worth way more than that.’”
We sat there a moment, the air-conditioning unit humming, the only sound in the room. Chuck said, “What’s that story got to do with you and the Nysos?”
“Sometimes a bet isn’t about winning. It’s about everyone seeing you take on the douchebag in the room.”
Chuck blinked once. Twice. “All righty, then. Your bard skills are right up there with your charm. Maybe we should call it a night.”
“One more thing …”
He groaned. Waited.
“You got any more decks from Andromeda’s?”
His eyes flicked up and to the left as he prepped a lie.
“Chuck!”
“Fine.” He hopped off the trunk and yanked it open, all previous caution gone. He popped up, threw me a deck featuring
Andromeda’s silhouette. I pocketed those, too. Though if Mom’s plans went through, they might be collectors’ items more than a means to cheat us. Can’t cheat what isn’t there.
“Good night,” I said.
“I think your assessment’s overrated. Sleep well, anyway.”
My room was just as crappy as Chuck’s, and I made an on-the-spot decision to sleep on top of the comforter, fully dressed, but my initial attempts at slumber failed. I rewatched the security video of that last card game between Dad and John Reedy a few times on a laptop I’d taken from Andromeda’s. I paused the video to rest my burning eyes. When I opened them again, sunlight streamed through the blinds. Total shock, I slept and I was not devoured by bedbugs. Win-win.
The nightstand clock read 6:15 a.m. I dialed Molly from my burner; she picked up on the first ring.
“I’m so glad to hear from you,” she said. “I barely slept at all last night.”
“I’m fine. Did my mom come to you?”
“No. She called the dads. They gave me the third degree, but I told them we got pancakes, then played it like I was in the dark on everything else.”
“Good. I don’t want any blowback coming your way.”
“How’s that even possible? I’m an accessory already.”
“So you did what I asked?”
“I talked to Gavin. It’s all set.”
“Awesome. I’ll meet you in about an hour. Depending on what happens, I’ll tell you what’s next.”
“Nikki, are you really going to be able to go through with this?”
By “this” she meant a minor kidnapping, and possibly some mild torture. “Brand-new day, brand-new me. See you in about an hour.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was out the door, ready to infiltrate the school. The door to Chuck’s room was wedged open by a housekeeping cart. The Lexus was missing from the parking lot.
Good luck, Chuck. Don’t go getting your face smashed in.
Navigating my car around my milling classmates, I grabbed a spot on the far side of the student lot, closest to the football field since I wasn’t planning on entering the actual school. I was a few minutes early for my meeting with Molly, so I did the thing I dreaded. Called Mom.
She answered hoarsely; I knew she’d been crying. A lot. “Who is this?”
“Me. I know you’re mad—”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll tell you later today. I promise.” There was more to say. I stopped myself. Waited for the inevitable pushback. Her silence was unnerving. “Mom?”
“I’m here.”
That she wasn’t screaming and making threats panicked me. A nightmarish thought blossomed. Big Bert’s man Delano lurking over her, a gloved hand resting gently on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not. I don’t know how soon I’ll be able to forgive you for putting me through what you have.”
“I’m sorry about all this.”
“I just lost your dad. How selfish are you, Nikalosa?”
That stung more than being told I’m grounded for the next year. Selfish? I wasn’t doing this for me.
She’d see.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I repeated. “I’ll be in touch.” I ended that round of torture and proceeded to the football team’s building, feeling mean enough to start the next.
Molly was waiting with the door open. “Hurry up.”
With me inside, she let the door swing shut, and the electronic lock caught. That she was able to get in here at all let me know the first part of the plan worked.
“Is he going to do the rest?” I asked.
“That’s what he told me.”
Our voices echoed in the Lion’s Den, reverbing in the emptiness. Awesome.
Been too long since me and Davis had some quality time.
The electronic lock buzzed and clacked open, allowing their voices entrance before their bodies followed.
“—talk in here?” Davis said. “Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on with Nikki?”
“Inside,” Gavin said. “We don’t want anyone seeing us.”
The door settled back into its frame, sealing them in.
“We had a deal.” Davis stepped deeper into the building. “You’re supposed to—”
“Go on,” I said, revealing myself with Molly behind me. “I’m real curious about this part.”
His mouth shut, an audible snap.
Gavin sidled by me. I resisted the urge to shy away. My deep and angry feels toward him hadn’t gone away in a night, but I’d factored him into my ultimate plans before I knew of his betrayal. I needed him. Thanks to Molly, I had him.
Davis recovered quickly. Frighteningly so. His charm cranked to one hundred. “Nikki, I’m so glad to see you.” He raised his arms as if he might attempt to hug me, but dropped them just as fast. “Can we—can we talk?”
“We’re going to. Have you been playing me this whole time?
“I think there’s a bit of confusion here—”
“Gavin, grab him.”
This wasn’t his nature anywhere other than the football field. If things between us hadn’t taken a turn, I wouldn’t dream of asking this from him. But they had. I trusted Molly relayed all that would be required when she got him on board.
That size and speed that had college scouts salivating was something to behold in a room full of people who were essentially munchkins to him. Gavin lunged forward with force, shoving his hands into the grooves of Davis’s armpits, hoisting, and spinning him up against the wall.
“What were you trying to keep me away from when you had Gavin put the dead man’s hand in my locker?”
“I was trying to protect you.” He pushed against Gavin with the same effect as pushing against a brick wall.
“The easy way to do that, ‘Hey, Nikki, my dad’s sending our crazy butler to your house; don’t be there.’”
He stopped struggling, genuine puzzlement creasing his face. “What?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“I don’t.” Any anger he’d fought to hide was now apparent, aimed at Gavin. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I’m done spying for you,” Gavin said.
Davis’s eyes bounced back to me. “What happened when he came to you? Did he hurt you?”
“Like you care.”
Davis’s body went slack with what I thought was resignation. Then he tensed, jabbed his fingers into the meat of Gavin’s right shoulder.
“Ow!” Gavin’s arm went lip, and Davis was free.
Molly, silent until then, put herself between me and Davis.
“Come on,” Davis whined, “I’m not going to do anything.”
Gavin lurched to the side, massaging his bicep. “Tell that to my arm. The whole thing’s numb.”
“I jabbed your axillary nerve. The pins and needles will wear off in a second.”
I stepped around Molly. “What are you?”
“If you let me explain, I’ll tell you every—”
He was airborne, lifted and slammed into a big rolling cart of towels.
“My arm’s better now,” said Gavin. “Try that again and you lose teeth.”
“Not likely.” Davis did some weird twist move that straightened Gavin’s arm. Gavin rocked sideways, then somehow, Davis’s legs were wrapped around Gavin’s shoulders and neck in an attempted choke hold.
“Enough!” I shouted.
They stopped their Tasmanian Devil twirl and detached from each other.
Gavin lurked over my shoulder as I stepped to Davis. “Tell me what’s happening. If I get any feeling that you’re lying to me, I promise you can’t take all three of us.”
“I haven’t been playing you the whole time, Nikki. Just since yesterday. That’s when I gave Gavin cash to put those cards in your locker. Nothing before that. I wanted you to leave it all alone.”
“Why, Davis?”
“Because we went to see that lawyer. I didn’t know how to tell you, so I didn’t.”
“Tell. Me. What?”
“That I recognized him. I knew he worked for my dad, and that meant whatever you were looking for was worse than you could imagine.”
I waited. How could anything be worse than what I’ve imagined? Worse than what I’ve lived?
“Harris,” Davis continued, “recognized me, too. I’d seen him at my place a few times in the last year. Never knew why and didn’t care. Until you found him.”
“You should’ve said something!”
“I didn’t know how. When he started hinting about needing money to remember, that was for me. Or, rather, my dad. I was scared you’d picked up on it, but then your mom and that biker’s card game distracted you, so I sat on it.”
“Before you decided scaring me off with poker lore was a good move?”
“I was going to tell you at my place. But Ced interrupted; then my dad showed up.”
“You still could’ve told me. Call. Text. You had options.”
Carefully, he stepped closer. I stepped back.
“I couldn’t tell you. Not without my phone. This is the part you really need to hear.”
Molly and Gavin were church mice quiet. First bell sounded. Nobody here was worried about tardiness now.
Davis continued, “Dad grilled me after you left. Where I was, what I’d been doing. I told him about Harris because, I don’t know, that extorting my family for money—in front of you—didn’t sit right.”
“And?”
“He calmed down. Was just like, ‘Is that so?’ If you know him, you’d know how weird it was. Later that night, I get out of the shower, and my phone’s gone. I’m thinking he took it, or had Delano do it. I go looking and no one’s in the house or picking up their cells. I tear the place apart looking for it. Nothing. Next morning, I wake up, my phone’s right on my nightstand. I go to the Location History to see where it’s been, and some of it had been deleted. Where my phone was while it was missing overnight, and everywhere I’d been with you.”
Davis stopped talking.
“So you’re saying someone took your phone, covered their tracks and yours?”