TWENTY-ONE
“Commotion?” Carter asked when the elevator let us out in the casino.
“Commotion,” I said.
“You’re not just teasing me, are you?”
“Nope. I needed something you were good at.”
I thought he was going to start skipping, he looked so happy.
We went to the change cage, and I bought a hundred bucks in chips. I handed Carter half. Then we found a roulette table.
As we slid into the seats, I whispered to Carter, “Go crazy, dude.”
He gave a tiny nod and set his Slurpee on the edge of the table.
A guy with dark hair and circles under his eyes greeted us. “Hello, gentlemen. Thank you for choosing Bareva. Place your bets, please.”
“Sure thing, boss,” I said. Then I looked at Carter and said louder than necessary, “I bet I’m gonna kick your ass here, bro.”
“You and what person twice your size, bozo?” he said, matching my volume. He dropped a couple of chips on black. He glanced at the worker’s nametag. “Fire her up, Bill, and make sure that fuckin’ little pearl lands on black.”
Bill laughed and turned to me. “Sir? Do you wish to bet?”
“I wanna be black,” I said.
“So did Vanilla Ice,” Carter said. “Let’s go. Drop your money.” “You may also bet on black, sir,” Bill said.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to be the only one on black.”
A perplexed expression settled on Bill’s face. I looked at Carter. “Next round, I’m black.” “Whatever, Vanilla.” He pounded the edge of the table. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I dropped a couple of chips on red.
Bill spun the wheel. The tiny ball jumped like it was electrified. “Come on, you little fucker!” Carter yelled, pounding the table again.
The ball bounced into the black slot and settled as the wheel came to a halt.
Carter stood and jumped up and down like a two-year-old in a crib. “Oh yeah, baby! Pay the big man!”
Bill laughed and slid some chips toward Carter. Carter reached for them, but I grabbed his wrist before he got there.
“That’s my money,” I said.
“The fuck it is, Vanilla,” he said, appropriately appalled. “And you better let go of me before I make you eat this wheel.” “I called black.”
“Too slow, bozo.” He glanced at Bill, like can-you-believe-my-buddy. “Bill, that’s my money, dude.”
Bill now appeared as if he wished he’d called in sick. “Fellas, let’s calm down.”
People were creeping closer, unable to ignore our voices.
“My money,” I said.
“My ass,” Carter said.
I tackled him, and we fell to the floor.
“This is fun,” Carter whispered as he rolled me over.
I wrapped my arms around his head. “Just you wait.”
A flurry of people surrounded us and began pulling us apart. We both ended up in the arms of security guards. Lots of yelling and people telling us to calm down. For a moment, I wondered if our show was all for naught.
Finally, though, from the area near the elevators, three men in dark suits came toward us. Large, severe men.
I looked at Carter. “Here comes the real fun.”
TWENTY-TWO
One of the suits took me by the arm. Not roughly, but more like he was escorting me around an art gallery.
He smiled politely. “Sir, if you’d like to come with us.” It wasn’t a question, but it lacked the threat I was expecting.
The two other suits gestured at Carter but didn’t take his arm. A wise move.
We moved away from the scene of our lunacy and toward the elevators. My escort let go of my arm but was still smiling. “You succeeded in getting Mr. Moffitt’s attention.”
“Imagine,” I said.
The elevator opened, and we all stepped in. I marveled that somewhere in the action Carter had managed to retain his Slurpee. He was sucking on the straw as if nothing had happened.
My escort stuck a key in a lock above the floor numbers and turned it. The doors closed, and we rose much higher than the fourth floor where we’d originally started. I guessed we went up about ten floors.
The doors opened, and the floor didn’t look much different than the admin offices. The men escorted us into a conference room with a view of the hills and the afternoon sunshine. A crystal pitcher filled with water sat in the middle of a huge mahogany table, accompanied by six matching glasses.
My guy gestured at the plush leather chairs around the table. “Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.”
We sat down, and they left.
Carter set his Slurpee on the table. “Now what?”
“Vanilla Ice?” I asked.
“You like that? I thought it was pretty good.” “I should’ve dumped the Slurpee on your head.”
“Now that wouldn’t have been good.” He waved a hand around the room. “So?”
“So let’s see who comes to visit us.”
Twenty minutes and two glasses of water later, the door to the conference room opened. A guy a couple inches taller than me with a neck the size of a barrel led the way. His brown hair was buzzed short, and the skin on his face seemed stretched too tight, as if there weren’t enough skin to cover his skull. Acne dotted his forehead. He scowled at us. He wore khaki pants and a black dress shirt with a butterfly collar that was open at his huge neck. Sweat stains darkened the shirt near his armpits. Lots of muscles in just about every place.
He was followed in by a man considerably shorter and less muscular. The second man was around five-ten with the build of a cross-country runner and shaggy black hair that hung to just above sleepy hazel eyes. He appeared to be trying to grow a goatee, but it didn’t seem to want to come in. He wore white jeans and a bright purple polo shirt.
“Hi, fellas,” he said. His voice was high-pitched and squeaky. “What are you here for?”
“Is either of you Benjamin Moffitt?” I asked.
“No. I’m Ross.” He pointed at the gorilla, who had moved next to me. “That’s Gus.”
“We’re here for Moffitt.”
Gus’s right hand shot out and drilled into the side of my head. My head snapped to the side and a rainbow of colors flashed in front of my eyes. Gus was strong.
“Easy, big guy,” Ross said.
I shook my head, clearing the colors from my vision, and realized he was talking to Carter, who was halfway out of his seat. I held up a hand, and Carter sat back down.
Ross smiled in my direction. “Wanna try again?”
“We’re here for Moffitt,” I said. “Dickhead.”
I felt Gus move again, but this time I was ready. I swept the pitcher off the table, swiveled in the chair, and smashed the pitcher into Gus’s head. It disintegrated into a fine mist of water and glass when it hit his temple. His teeth snapped together like a bear trap, and he fell to the ground.
I looked at Ross, who was no longer smiling.
“Is Moffitt coming or do we need to go find him?” I asked.
Ross glanced at his partner. Gus was clutching the side of his head as blood percolated out of his mouth, his eyes shut tight in pain.
“I’ll go get Mr. Moffitt,” Ross said. Carter stood. “We’ll go with you.”
“No need,” Ross said, a little too quickly. “If you’ll just wait here—”
“You can ceme back with who knows what,” Carter said. He walked over and took Ross by the elbow. “Show us the way, buddy.”
I stepped over Gus to follow them. The side of my head was still throbbing.
“Hang on,” I said to Carter.
I turned around and drove my foot in Gus’s solar plexus. The air whooshed out of him like a slashed tire, his eyes bulged, and his mouth opened into a silent, painful oval.
I pulled my foot off of him and faced an amused Carter and a worried Gus.
“Now let’s go,” I said.
TWENTY-THREE
Ross took us down a long hallway to a corner office. He knocked, timid, on the partially open door. A polite voice invited us in.