Overturned

by Lamar Giles

  Kurt motioned in my direction, and Cedric stomped to me. “What—”

  “There’s something you should know before you ask that question. You didn’t actually win it.”

  Raising both forearms, I snaked two fingers into the cuff of my left sleeve and pulled free a couple of playing cards sporting the Nysos logo, courtesy of Chuck Pearl. I repeated the gesture on the other side before laying those cards on the table. “I have more. This dress is really great for hiding them. So you see, the hands you won, you didn’t win. The hands you lost, you didn’t lose. We were never playing a true game, Cedric Carlino. Didn’t my father make it clear? You aren’t worth the effort.”

  I couldn’t tell how much he heard. He stared at the cards I’d used to cheat and stall while my backup arrived.

  Kurt held the door open. Shouts of “GRIF-FIN BLOOD! GRIF-FIN BLOOD!” flitted through, the commotion growing, a rumbling like a large boulder rolling closer to crush Cedric. Just as I planned.

  Davis’s brother snarled, leapt at me, and coiled his fingers in my hair, yanking me from my seat in an explosion of scalp-scorching pain that consumed me so I couldn’t manufacture a scream.

  If he was to be crushed, he intended to take me with him.

  “Sir!” Kurt the guard screamed, finally leaving the entryway. Maybe he meant to intervene, to stop his boss from assaulting a woman in front of him, even if it meant his job. He was too slow, though.

  Davis clocked Cedric across the chin, jarring him enough that he released me. The sudden freedom sent me backpedaling and I landed on my butt.

  Cedric steadied himself, brushing at his clothes as if Davis had sullied them. “You choosing her over me? Over family?”

  “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” His fists were clenched, but furtive. He only used them when had to. Because of who he was facing, Davis couldn’t see what was so clear to me. This was a time when he had to.

  “Like that ever happens.” Cedric rushed forward, sank a fist into Davis’s stomach all the way to the wrist.

  Davis collapsed in a ball with a groan, and Cedric lorded over him. “See what I mean?”

  Wheezing, Davis got his knees under him. Cedric hit him again, flattened him again, the collision a wet crunch.

  “Stop them!” I shouted.

  Kurt the guard might’ve been chivalrous enough to help me but didn’t budge when it was the princes of his kingdom brawling. If he wouldn’t step in …

  I ran past him, through the corridor and onto the gaming floor. The sight of the chaos I’d created was an invisible wall, killing my forward momentum.

  The Nysos security team was a minority among the groups of tussling high school athletes and riled-up spectators. Half of the combatants were Vista players, easily spotted in their dinner-appropriate khakis and dress shirts. The others were CG, jeans and tees. They pushed, shoved, threw wild punches. The Cardinal Graham mascot head went airborne like a popcorn kernel, then flipped end over end back into the scrum.

  I scanned the ruckus for the biggest, tallest person who wasn’t Gavin. Found him. “Goose! Help!”

  The biker, a wistful observer on the edge of the melee, heard me, as did several others. With meaty arms and a bulldozer gut, he cut a path through the lightweight teens and overwhelmed hotel security. Him and his Pack mates. A torpedo of leather and tats aimed directly at me. With stragglers in their wake.

  “Nikalosa!”

  Oh crap. My mom.

  I dipped back into the High Roller Room, knowing they’d all follow. We were getting to the end of it now.

  Cedric left his groaning brother on the floor, set his sights on me. He took three big, angry steps before aborting his approach.

  The Pack spilled in. Flanked me. Even their bulky machismo couldn’t deter my mother from muscling her way through, with Tomás and Detective Burrows and Molly tailing.

  I exchanged a knowing look with Molly, the old telepathy at work. She broadcast a message back to me. Ready.

  Mom wrenched me to her, and though I knew a full-on reaming was in the near future, she gave me a constricting hug. “Oh my god, what are you doing?”

  “Leaving,” Cedric announced. He told Kurt, “I want these people escorted off the property immediately, or I want Metro here to arrest them.”

  Burrows said, “Metro is already here.”

  “Perfect. I demand—”

  “Just one minute,” a voice boomed from the congested corridor. Another person joining the fray. The people jam parted for Big Bert.

  “This is my establishment,” he said, “and I’m the only one who makes demands here. Somebody tell me what’s happening.”

  “Mr. Carlino.” I stepped to him, or tried. Mom attempted tugging me back. I spun to her. “Let me finish. For Dad.”

  I felt Big Bert watching our exchange until he keyed on the moaning by the center poker table. He rushed to his downed son, triggering a coughing fit. Despite his respiratory struggles, he comforted Davis and shouted to no one in particular, “Get medics in here.”

  Orders from the King of the Nysos reanimated Kurt the guard. He forced his way from the room while radioing for help.

  Big Bert levered Davis to his feet, wheezing the whole time like he was the one with the broken nose. “You did this?”

  The question was for Cedric. No one else was under suspicion.

  Cedric said, “Dad, Davis’s lunatic girlfriend—”

  “Stop. Talking.” Big Bert craned his neck, sweeping his gaze across everyone present. “Clear the room. This is a family matter.”

  “Nope,” I said. “Nobody leaves. I’ve got something to say.”

  Big Bert zeroed in on my mom. “Gwen, I thought we had an understanding.”

  Mom stepped closer, slipped an arm over my shoulder. Joining me. “What understanding is that exactly, Bert?”

  Tomás gravitated to my other side, refusing to let us stand alone. “Say what you need to, Nikki.”

  Here we go.

  “He’s killed at least three people. Including my dad,” I said, pointing to Cedric. “And I can’t prove it.”

  “Can’t?” Detective Burrows said. “As in cannot?”

  “Correct,” I said.

  “No proof?”

  “Uh-uh.” I added, “He’s also running this shady cheating ring, but I can’t prove that, either.”

  Detective Burrows directed his ire at Molly, who didn’t seem to notice. She was recording the proceedings on her phone. Burrows said, “You called me.”

  “I made her tell you we had additional info, but I’ve got the same vague, circumstantial stuff you’ve got,” I said.

  Cedric, for his part, laughed so we saw all his teeth. “She forced her way onto the gaming floor, knowing she’s underage. I’m certain that riot outside is her doing.” He actually pled his case to the cop. “What else do you need to drag her and her gang off our property?”

  “Did she hurt that boy?” Burrows motioned to Davis, who was alert and rapt like everyone else.

  Cedric gave a dismissive wave. “Dad, back me up here. Tell him to do his job and maybe we won’t have our lawyers eat their young.”

  Big Bert shook his head oh so slightly.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, he’s got a point,” Burrows said. “I don’t know what we’re all doing here, other than you wanted it this way. You better explain yourself.”

  “It’s the Al Capone thing,” I said. “Dad wanted to tie Cedric to the cheating ring because there’s no way to link him to the murders. That’s not going to work either because the Carlinos are too good at running this town. I’m sick of it.”

  With everyone fixated on my little speech, my sudden movement was as surprising as I needed it to be. I closed the gap between me and Cedric, raked my clawed hand fast and hard across his cheek, ripping skin and drawing blood. He stumbled, roared, cocked a fist I’m sure he would’ve swung if not for so many witnesses.

  “Did you see that?” he shouted. “She attacked me! I want her arrest
ed and punished to the full extent of the law!”

  I went directly to Burrows, arms extended, the fingertips on one hand pink with Cedric’s blood. “Cuff me. Take me now.”

  Mom was there in an instant. “Nikki, why?”

  “It’s okay, Mom.”

  Burrows brought out the bracelets, snapping them over one of my wrists, and then the other. Cedric kept ranting, his words obscenity-laced now. Big Bert and Davis, though, they got it.

  What was the family motto? Never get arrested. Never end up in the system. Really smart way to keep incriminating DNA away from the system.

  There were ways around it.

  “Cedric,” I said. He kept ranting, so into his feelings and threatening lawsuits, I had to yell. “Cedric!”

  He snapped to. “What?”

  “My dad got some of his killer’s skin under his nails. For my last bet of the evening, I’m going to say the skin under my nails is a match. You want in on that action?”

  Every bit of malice and color drained from his face. Murmurs all around the room.

  “Please take me to jail now. And, Cedric, don’t feel bad. You wouldn’t be the first player to get done in by a dead man’s hand.”

  There’s this thing in Nevada called committing a breach of peace. Other parts of the country might call it inciting a riot. In the months following that day at the Nysos, I became well versed in the jargon since I was being charged with a bunch of crimes relating to it.

  The timeline that a city prosecutor would eventually share with me and Mom and my criminal defense attorney looked something like this:

  4:27 p.m.—At the prompting of Nikalosa Tate, Gavin Lafaie executed the first leg of a plan N. Tate dubbed “Phase 2” and sent an inciting message to the entire Cardinal Graham High School football team. G. Lafaie copied N. Tate on the message to confirm her instructions were followed. The contents of the message were a photo of the Cardinal Graham mascot’s head next to signage clearly indicating the gaming room of the Nysos Casino Resort, and the message read: “Come and get it you [expletive].”

  4:36 p.m.—At the prompting of Nikalosa Tate, Margaret Martel notified the following individuals of N. Tate’s whereabouts inside the Nysos Casino Resort: Gwendolyn Tate (mother), Tomás Garcia (family friend), Det. Raymond Burrows (lead investigator on the Nathaniel Tate murder case), and the Nevada Gaming Control Board public line.

  4:40 p.m.—Nikalosa Tate sent several misleading text messages to a number of individuals to lure them to the gaming room of the Nysos Casino Resort. Among the individuals contacted were members of the Wolfpack Motorcycle Club, and several people who identify as professional cardplayers, though many have varying criminal records. N. Tate’s message read: “Whale Alert! Phil Ivey’s playing at The Nysos. Get. Here. Now.”

  5:00 p.m.—Nikalosa Tate, a minor, illegally traversed the gaming floor of the Nysos Casino Resort, and engaged in several hands of poker while all the parties she’d manipulated gathered in force.

  6:00 p.m.—Nikalosa Tate …

  The timeline continued, entirely accurate. All the premeditated stuff I engineered. Legally speaking, I was kind of up a creek.

  These weren’t inadvertent repercussions. My plan did not backfire. My arrest, and what happened immediately after, was still the plan. This was the game after the game.

  Going into this, I knew I’d be throwing a big rock into a pond, and there would be an epic splash. I was looking at potential jail time, and that was terrifying. The toilets alone. There were other dangers, though. Accusing the son of a powerful man with connections to the legal system, a powerful man who may not be above permanently burying problems. Without the proper precautions, evidence could disappear. I could disappear. I needed insurance that whatever happened, Cedric’s role in my father’s, John Reedy’s, and Dan Harris’s deaths didn’t get lost in the shuffle, so to speak.

  While Metro collected samples of Cedric Carlino’s DNA from my nails, Molly performed one more task. The final leg of Phase 2, which wouldn’t make my incriminating timeline. From a fake account, she uploaded a video to YouTube of me confronting Cedric, spliced with the chaotic footage of Vista and CG fighting over a mascot head.

  That crap went viral in like a day.

  Sure, most of that was probably the allure of a Worldstar-like brawl, but me announcing that Cedric Carlino was a killer couldn’t be ignored. A few days in, YouTube pulled the video (likely at the request of some persuasive Nevada law firm). Within hours, two more versions appeared with different titles, posted from different user accounts. They took those down; four more appeared. A virtual hydra.

  A rabid media went all in on the racial optics of a young black girl in a life-threatening battle with a white Casino magnate.

  That breaking news stoked the fires more. TV, radio, web. Even got my own hashtag. #NikkiVsNysos

  Dan Harris would’ve been proud.

  Mom, not so much.

  Other than the first round of processing and interrogation, I never spent a night in jail. I was placed under house arrest. Not by the city—they were still gathering evidence against me—but by my mother. Total lockdown. Part of it was punishment, Mom made sure I knew that. Part of it was protection. Because Cedric remained free. Evidence was not an arrest, not charges filed. Those things took time. Anything could happen while we waited.

  So, no school—not that I would’ve been welcome there anyway after I got half the football team locked up and the Cardinal Graham game forfeited. No phones. No friends. For the first month, I only saw my mom, Tomás, assorted Andromeda’s staff, my new home-school tutor, and a bunch of meh streaming movies.

  Month two had Mom releasing the iron grip a little. Mostly due to necessity. She needed my help finding us a new place to live.

  Andromeda’s Palace had been sold.

  Those Japanese guys dropped out of the running, but another group of investors was waiting in the wings, willing to take the casino off Mom’s hands for a slightly reduced price.

  Who knew Mr. Héctor had such well-off friends?

  Years of saving and dreaming had gotten him what he always wanted. A place to explore his passions. He worked our valet stand until the day the sale closed. I sat and talked with him while movers loaded our personal belongings into a truck destined for the Rancho Grande home Mom had bought. A real house. No more room service.

  “I’m glad it’s you.” I sat on the smokers’ bench in Andromeda’s Loop, perhaps for the last time. “She should go to someone who loves her.”

  “I don’t love her,” he said, “at all.”

  “Huh?”

  “Andromeda’s Palace will undergo a major renovation, Nika. What do you think about”— he held his hands high and wide, framing the invisible name—“Ximena’s?”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “The one who hears. It was my beloved’s name. It fit her well, she was a good listener. She’d like the sound of tourists spending their money here.” He clutched his stomach as if stifling his belly laughs.

  I never met Mr. Héctor’s wife. She passed away before I was born. But I didn’t have to know her. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Exactly. Out with the old, in with a sexy Mexican vibe.”

  “Absolutely.” I didn’t know how convincing I sounded.

  “I’m going to change the name of the Goddess Room, too,” he said.

  “Oh.” I suppressed a flinch. Or tried.

  “I’m thinking of calling it Nathan’s Room, and putting a plaque in your father’s honor right by the door. It’s not sexy, or Mexican, but it fits. Yes?”

  The Andromeda of legend was a chained prisoner, a sacrifice. She was freed, lived a long, long life, and was said to have been placed among the stars after her death so we’d always remember her. A poker room in Downtown Vegas wasn’t the same as a constellation, but I had a feeling Dad would’ve been cool with it.

  “Yes,” I said, “it fits perfectly.”

  Month three, no ninjas had come for me in the nigh
t, and I hadn’t discovered a single horse head in my bed.

  We were still settling in to the new house. Tomás came over a lot, playing Mr. Fix-It. Installing ceiling fans and voting on accent wall colors—almost always agreeing with my picks, inciting mild Mom wrath. Occasionally, my lawyer called, reiterating how slow the gears of justice clanked and that the city was still putting together a case against me. But there was hope. I was a minor, so I should be looking at only a short stay in juvie. Yay?

  Those days were hard. Stuck at home, a cell looming, while Dad’s killer held no such concerns.

  Seemingly secure in his assertion that his baby-eating lawyers would quash all the murder nonsense despite compelling DNA evidence, as well as the GPS on his favorite car putting him close to Andromeda’s on the night of Dad’s death, and a witness describing someone who looked like him near Dan Harris’s office before he died, Cedric never broke stride. He partied hard, set the town on fire. Literally, in one case, when he lit a bottle of vodka aflame at his birthday party. He was determined to show his face at any and every available opportunity. Nothing to hide here.

  And where was Davis in all this? In an email—a connection to the outside world Mom hadn’t severed—Molly informed me he left Vista, too. Had vanished completely. In the absence of facts, the rumor mill turned him into a gangster Carmen Sandiego, placing him at all manner of seedy, exotic locales around the globe. When I had trouble sleeping in the new place, I wondered where he really was, and what my scheme had done to him. I wondered if I had the right to care.

  Christmas came and went. We watched the New Year’s ball drop on TV. Mom ran out of reasons to keep me confined and allowed little freedoms back into my life. She returned my original iPhone. I received it with the same sense of wonder and apprehension as my dad when we gifted one to him. Oh. I remember those.

  Netflix at Molly’s (with regular half-hour check-in calls to the freshly returned iPhone). A Saturday afternoon at the mall, where Molly attempted pointing me toward cute boys, and I tried not to act like a vampire staring at a crucifix. I wasn’t ready, and it didn’t make me a bad wingwoman either, because she wasn’t in the market.