Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “I’m not sure I even want to know what that means,” I said.

  “It means if your sister is out there, I’ll find her.”

  “Thanks, Chance.”

  There was a knock on my door.

  “I’ve got to go. If you find out anything call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

  “You got it.”

  Sloshing out of the tub, I wrapped the robe around myself. I hoped it was Miles, but it was room service. I should have gotten the fries, I thought. At least for myself. I signed the receipt, tipping well. I was feeling hopeful and wanted to pass along the good karma vibes. After the delivery person left, I devoured half the sandwich before remembering it was late at night and I should probably take it easy. But I was so hungry I wound up eating both sandwiches.

  “I warned him,” I said as I took both bowls of pasta salad and sat in the enormous king-size bed. I turned on the television and binge-watched reruns of The Big Bang Theory until I fell asleep.

  Miles Carvello

  “At least it’s not raining,” Highway grumbled.

  I couldn’t even speak I was so angry. It was bad enough they evacuated my bar, but they also locked it down until the gas company sent someone out. It was hurry up and wait, so I sent the staff home, promising to pay them for the wasted night. Highway had decided to stay because he apparently thought I wanted the company.

  I didn’t.

  We were told to stand as far away from the building as possible. I went across the street and paced up and down in front of the pawn shop until the owner shooed me away. I settled for leaning against the bail bondsman’s wall and glared at the gas truck and the workers milling around trying to get a reading. They weren’t going to get one because there wasn’t a damn leak.

  “This is bullshit. If we were on the Strip, we’d be back up again in the hour.”

  Liu would have noticed if there had been a gas leak. Certainly, Highway would have. No, this had been an anonymous tip that was credible enough that the city cut the gas for the entire block and sent out an ambulance and a couple of squad cars until the gas company got there. Seeing the area cordoned off made me want to rip down and shred the tape. It reminded me of what Uncle Johnny’s club had looked like after the fire.

  “Somebody’s fucking with us. I bet it’s those twat frat boys. I bet someone’s daddy is in on it.”

  I grunted. It was possible.

  “Did you pay protection to the Rivs?” Highway asked quietly.

  That stopped me in my tracks. “No. They tried the gang shit with me two years ago. I told them to fuck off then and when they tried to make it ugly, I made it costly for them to continue on with the protection racket on my club. Leonidas and I have an understanding.”

  Leonidas had a gang of thugs with their fingers in all sorts of nasty areas. Lucky for me, drugs paid off better than protection rackets.

  Highway sniffed. “Then maybe it was these assholes”—he jerked his thumb in the direction of the pawn shop and the bail bondsman—“that called in the fake gas leak. They’re shelling out fifteen percent a week. Maybe they don’t like that you’re not.”

  The pawn shop was owned by two German brothers who hated both Uncle Johnny’s club and, most recently, my club. They thought we cost them customers. I had told them if they kept the same hours as I did, they might pick up some business from tourists looking for quick cash. I remembered wanting to buy a laptop from them before I went off to Europe. My uncle bought me a brand-new one and told me to never give them a dime. The bail bonds office was owned by a snowbird from Massachusetts who couldn’t care less about anything but his skip tracers. I had thought about going into that line of work, but being a bouncer paid better.

  “Fuck,” I said, shaking my head. I really hoped the drug sales in my bar linked back to the Rivs. They might not have been the ones to burn down Uncle Johnny’s, but they were getting more dangerous as they gained more power. Grier was probably asleep right now, otherwise I’d give him a call and see if we could speed things up and maybe meet tonight.

  “It’s the cost of doing business. And if Ginny was their mole inside the bar, or the other three missing idiots—four if you count your girlfriend’s sister—”

  “Are you really going there?” I tilted my head at him, but he ignored me.

  “I’m just sayin’ maybe the Rivs left you alone for two years because they had people inside making them money. And now those people are gone.” Highway shrugged.

  “It’s a stretch. Dee left to become a hooker and Zeke followed her hoping to bring her home. But I’ll ask her when I see her tomorrow.” Since I had nothing better to do, I filled him in on what Jackie and I had found out. “If Paulie was the supplier, why did he leave? And leave the merchandise behind?” I shook my head. “None of this makes any fucking sense.”

  “Did you go to Paulie’s place, since you seemed to be taking a tour of all your employees’ digs? Am I next?” He put a hand over his chest. “I’ll have to have the manservant polish the silverware.”

  I hadn’t gone to Paulie’s yet because I didn’t want to spook him. I’d let Grier handle bringing him in for possession. I wanted to be out of it as much as possible.

  “Just make sure you don’t try and serve me some of that lemon shandy shit.”

  “I’m not a heathen,” Highway said.

  I gave him a noncommittal grunt and went back to glaring across the street. After another two hours, Highway and I headed back to the car where we took turns dozing and keeping an eye out for the inspector to call an all clear.

  It was getting late and my mood wasn’t improving. Even if there was even a miracle and this got sorted out, I’d be piss-poor company if I headed out to the Wynn tonight. I texted Jackie a few times to let her know that I wasn’t going to make it. Either she was pissed off or asleep. With my luck it was probably the former. I’d deal with it tomorrow.

  It took until dawn and I was too tired to give them the red ass that they deserved. I could open up as usual at noon for the lunch crowd. I left a message for Liu to bring in his cousins again and staggered up to my apartment to get a few hours of sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jackie Mitchell

  I woke up this morning hugging a pasta bowl instead of a muscled bouncer with crazy hot tattoos. Fumbling for my phone, I saw it was past noon New York time, but still too early Las Vegas time to see Miles. I was ridiculously pleased to see he had texted last night and didn’t blow me off. It was probably for the best that I had gotten a good night’s sleep, even though my dreams left me feeling restless and needy. Maybe I could convince Miles to have another quickie in his office before we headed out to Pahrump.

  Speaking of brothels, Chance didn’t check in. I hoped that meant that they were having a good time. I also hoped that the bridegroom remained loyal to his bride. If I ever got engaged, there wouldn’t be any chicken ranches in my husband-to-be’s future. I might let him go to a strip club—if he let me dance in it.

  Giggling to myself, I threw back the covers—mindful of the pasta bowls—and found that I was only slightly sore. Of course, the last thing my body wanted to do was dance. But I needed to get used to the idea of dancing every day, so I did some warmup exercises before doing my stripper routine that I had planned out. I never got to do my last two songs. Keeping with the Broadway theme, I had planned to do “You Can’t Stop the Beat” from Hairspray and “One Night in Bangkok” from Chess. My costumes were so cute too. I wondered if Miles would change his mind about me dancing in the club and just let me just dance on stage and keep the tips, but not have to work the room.

  Of course, that’s what the other dancers had hated about Lisa. So maybe I should just stick to dancing in my hotel room for now. I flipped open my laptop to finish answering the pressing e-mails that I had blown off yesterday. Making myself a pot of coffee with the tiny machine in the room, I yawned.

  My job was dull.

  There. I admitted it. When I was in Manhattan, at least
I could use the excuse that the city was exciting, and I was meeting and greeting directors and choreographers for new shows. It was fun to pitch my clients to them, even though I felt a twinge of jealousy when they got the contracts. The majority of my job, though, was reviewing contracts and researching opportunities for other people. I couldn’t be too upset. I was making fifteen percent, but I’d rather be up on the stage.

  For shits and giggles, I went online to the Las Vegas classifieds to see if there were any auditions this week. I didn’t find any. I should have taken that as a sign, but instead I called my office back in New York. It didn’t matter that it was a Saturday morning, the office never closed on the weekend.

  “Zimmerman Agency,” Mags, our receptionist said.

  “Hi, Mags, it’s me checking in from Sin City.”

  “We got two feet of snow dumped on us. Calling to rub it in?”

  I hadn’t been, but I pulled back the drape and gazed out into the sun and palm trees. I was glad I wasn’t in New York. “Looks like it’s going to hit ninety degrees today before noon.”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Wait!” I leaned against the window, looking down at the Strip. It wasn’t even noon yet, but there were still people out there hustling and working. It reminded me of New York. “I was wondering, do we have any connections out here? In the back of my mind I thought there was a production company that had been farming for showgirls a couple of years back. But I can’t remember the name, otherwise I’d search it myself. Can you ask around and get back to me?”

  “What’s in it for me?” she teased.

  “What do you want?” I said with a smile.

  “I want you to put ten dollars on black twenty-two on the roulette table. If you win, we split it fifty-fifty.”

  “You’re on.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “Take all the time that you need.” It was a silly idea anyway. Even if Mags found someone, I didn’t have a client here. It was a long shot that Lisa would have tried to hook up with the same company. Of course, I wasn’t asking on behalf of Lisa or my clients. I was thinking about what Miles had said and the remnants of my fantasy last night. Did I have what it took to ace an audition in a town where no one knew who I was?

  Mags had hung up, but I still had the phone in my ear and was still looking out onto the busy street below. I could live here. It was warm and the city was exciting. I liked who I was in this place. And it was conveniently far away from my parents.

  Feeling a little guilty about not calling him before now, I dialed my dad’s number.

  “Did you go broke?” was the first thing he said when he picked up.

  “I haven’t even stepped foot in a casino.”

  He made a disgusted sound. “You’re wasting your life.”

  Unlike my mother, he was actually teasing me, and it made me smile. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Your mother narced on me, didn’t she? It was one beer.”

  “Just one?” I asked quietly.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  I could picture him making the gesture.

  “Why did you do it?” There wasn’t any accusation in my voice. Just curiosity. He had hit rock bottom when I was in high school and spent the better part of a year in rehab. It had nearly torn our family apart. Lisa had taken Mom’s side, while I was firmly convinced she had driven him to drink. I didn’t want to think about that now. We had moved beyond it. Or at least I hoped we had.

  He sighed. “I wanted to feel normal. I was playing cards with the guys and they were all drinking the first batch of winter ale. I just wanted a taste. I stopped at one bottle.”

  I was angrier with his friends than I was with him. They’d been playing cards every Friday all my life. They knew the history.

  “I’m proud of you. It must not have been easy to stop at one.”

  “Well, that was all they had,” he admitted. “Your mother caught me because I bought a six-pack coming home and tried to sneak it in.”

  I winced. “Well, I hope you learned your lesson.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Leave it in the car until she falls asleep.”

  “Da-ad,” I groaned, but I knew he was just joking. I heard my mother in the background.

  “Is that Lisa?”

  “Tell her yes and that she’s doing fine.”

  “Is that the truth?”

  I hesitated too long in my answer and my mother came on the line. “Lisa, honey. I’ve been worried sick.”

  “It’s me,” I said, resting my forehead against the window. I should be given brownie points for not banging my head against it.

  “Well, where is she?”

  “She’s left Las Vegas.”

  “Good. There’s too much temptation in that town.”

  She wasn’t wrong. My mind wandered over to Miles. I wanted to spend a lot more time with him, but I was on vacation this week and he wasn’t. I needed to understand that. It’s just that he made me feel like I was important to him, a priority in his life. That was more seductive to me than his talented tongue. Well, maybe not. I had to have a little more of that to make sure.

  “Where is she?” my mother repeated.

  Good question. “I’ve tracked her down to a . . . um . . . bar in Pahrump, Nevada.” Here’s hoping she didn’t Google it. “I’m going out there today.”

  “Pahrump? I’ve never heard of it. I wonder if it’s the new indie dance scene.”

  “Maybe,” I drawled out.

  “So you’re going to see her today.”

  I doubted it. “Hopefully, but she’s not making this easy. She knows I’m here. She could pick up the phone and have a five-minute phone conversation with me.”

  “If she’s getting your messages,” my mother said ominously. “Maybe she lost her phone.” That seemed to brighten her day. And since it was better than telling her that Lisa had gone from a bartender to an exotic dancer, and that my current theory was she was now a legal prostitute, I let her believe that.

  “I’ll call you when I find her,” I said.

  I took a quick shower and got dressed. Mags called back while I was eating breakfast in the buffet in the casino after losing ten bucks on black twenty-two. It had come up red twelve. So close and yet so far.

  “Sorry it took so long,” Mags said.

  “Bad news. We lost.”

  “Easy come, easy go.” I could picture her shrugging. “Anyway, I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  “Hit me.”

  “See, you’re getting into the casino frame of mind. The bad news is I couldn’t find the company you were thinking of.”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  “But there is a company that works with the Zimmerman office in LA. They’re looking for showgirls for a new show based on Travesty.”

  “Travesty?”

  “It’s the new video game that all the kids are playing. It’s a cross between Clue, Fortnite, and Dance Revolution.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to picture that in my head and failing.

  “They’re auditioning all week at the new hotel casino on the Strip, the Odyssey. It’s a video game-themed casino.”

  “Really?” I chewed on my bacon. “Can you get me in?”

  “For who? Lisa?”

  I froze. I couldn’t very well say that it was for me. “Yeah, Lisa.”

  “You found her? How is she? How’s her knee?”

  I didn’t like to lie, but I was having a hard time digging myself out of this one. “Yup, she’s been bartending and trying to find herself out here. She was stripping at one of the local clubs.”

  “Get the fuck out!” Mags screamed.

  That was going to get all over the office. It was cheap, but it was going to keep the interest off of me.

  “Yeah, so her knee is doing well. I think she’s out here for the time being so I figured why not see if I could get her a job.” I hated lying to Mags, but it was harmless. No one would have to kno
w I went on the audition myself.

  “You’re always working,” Mags said. “All right, let me see if they can fit Lisa in. I’ll call you back.”

  I was surprised that my hand was shaking when I drained my coffee in one long sip. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t really going to masquerade as my sister at a dance audition. They would know the minute I walked in that I wasn’t her based on the headshots and résumé Zimmerman would fax over. This was just Las Vegas Jackie poking fun at New York Jackie.

  Mags called back immediately. “Can you get Lisa there in the next hour?”

  I gulped. “Sh-shit. I mean sure.”

  “Good. They’ll be going over the combinations to all the dancers then. It’ll take about an hour. Then they’ll give them a half hour to practice and then they’ll start calling the dancers on stage to audition.”

  Oh God.

  “What kind of dancing are they looking for?” I was shell-shocked, but my mouth went on autopilot, asking the questions I normally would if I was actually sending Lisa.

  “Hip-hop, modern, but don’t be surprised if they ask to see a kick line. It is Vegas after all.”

  “What can you tell me about the decision-makers?” I murmured, my mind going a million directions at once.

  “The casting director is Simi Pierce. Tell Lisa to wear something formfitting. They’re going to want to see her body. And have her wear shorts. They want to see her legs.”

  “How do I get to the audition?” I cleared my throat. I had to get my head on straight.

  “Pull around the back of the Odyssey casino into the employees’ lot, and tell the guard you’re there to audition for Travesty. Go into stage door C and tell them you’re with the Zimmerman Agency.”

  “Got it,” I whispered.

  “Break a leg,” Mags said.

  I was going to throw up. No. I was just not going to the audition. I wasted five valuable minutes arguing with myself. Then I ran up to my room to get changed into a tight T-shirt and my stripper shorts. I was not wearing the butt floss. No way. No how.