Working Class Vegas Vamp is a free urban fantasy serial, usually publishing on Tuesdays. It is unedited and subject to change. If published later, it may differ significantly, and will probably include additional material. Typos and English errors are likely; feel free to leave a comment or write me at am {AT} amscottwrites.com (revised as a standard email address. Pesky bots!) Available for a limited time only!
Chapter 4
Matias opened the doors, watching his bouncers check IDs. I peered around his massive body and breathed a sigh of relief. Theoden wasn’t waiting at the VIP rope. I checked in with Tanya backstage, and made sure Security was blocking the stage door.
But when I returned behind the bar, Theoden was sitting in his usual seat. And the owner of the Casino Royale, Don T. Ald, sat next to him, with a fleet of men in somber suits surrounding them. I’d seen the owner here exactly once; he’d watched as the police arrested the Fantastique’s manager for embezzlement. Appearing now couldn’t be good for me. My feet slowed, but despite the dread weighing on me like an anchor, I continued. Better that I know what was going on–avoidance would do no good.
When Theoden spotted me, his lips compressed and his brows rose, then he reclaimed his usual stoic expression. “Charlene, a bottle of Pappy’s with enough glasses for all of them. Doubles.” He waved at the suits. Roger hovered on the outskirts, obviously uncertain of his role in this show. As he should be—he was outclassed big time.
I turned and reached for an unopened bottle, keeping my expression blank, despite the sinking sensation in my stomach. Placing it on the bar, I gathered glasses. I poured two straight triples for Theoden and Don immediately, then checked with the minions. “On the rocks or straight, gentlemen? Raise your hands for rocks.” Hands came up—split half and half. I grabbed tongs and the special “kinky boot” ice cubes, each landing in the glass with a tink. Then I poured generously; no reason not to when Theoden was buying the bottle.
“Pour for yourself and your two colleagues as well.” Theoden lifted his glass—straight, no kinky boots for him—and nodded.
I didn’t grimace, but I didn’t bother pouring myself a shot, either. I delivered glasses to Janice and Troy, exchanging raised brow looks with both, and filled a glass with water for myself. I already knew I didn’t want to toast this moment.
“Sign here, here and here, sir.” One of the suited minions pointed at a paper inside a leather folder in front of the current casino owner. Don scrawled on the paper, then slid it in front of Theoden. He signed and handed the folder to the man standing next to him; a stamp thumped on the paper, and the man notarized both signatures. A thin, red leather book was placed in front of Theoden; he printed and signed, then Don did too.
Theoden’s attorney took the notary book and put it in his briefcase. “Sirs, we’ll send official copies to your offices.” He held up his glass. “Congratulations, Mr. Theoden.”
Bloody daylight–I’d been right. Tonight was a very bad, no good, awful night.
Don slapped Theoden on the back and held out his hand. “I hope the Royale is as good to you as it was to me.” He shook Theoden’s hand and tossed back his drink like it was cheap swill, thumping the heavy glass on the black plastic. “I’ll enjoy the Malibu bikini babes while you fight the desert heat, the tourists and the headaches. Best of luck.” He slid off the stool and walked out the door, waving without turning. Half the legal staff followed.
Theoden’s lawyer snorted. “He’ll be back in less than six months. Guy doesn’t know when to quit.”
“That’s true. But it won’t be this casino.” Theoden clinked glasses with his lawyer, then turned to me. “You’re not going to congratulate your new boss, Charlene?” He purred my name in his deep, rumbling voice, and raised his brows.
I stared at him and reviewed my assets. Another year would have been better, but I could do it now. Holding his gaze, I poured my water in the sink and undid my apron, taking my casino ID out of the pocket and placing it on the bar in front of Theoden. “I quit.” Then I walked away without a backward glance. Troy gasped. Janice’s snicker cut off abruptly.
Matias joined me before I reached the locker room. I glanced at him while I unzipped my thigh-high boots and packed everything in my tote. “Making sure I don’t rob the place blind on my way out?”
He snorted. “Standard procedure, you know that.”
I grinned at him and rose. “I do. Thanks. For everything.”
He opened the back bar door for me and walked beside me, his footsteps much louder than mine in the now-busy back hall. We wove through carts filled with booze and food to the outer door, busy minions hurrying to fulfill their master’s orders.
After opening the exterior door, Matias stepped out first, looked both ways, then beckoned me out. “I’ve enjoyed working with you, Char. I wish I could offer you something other than luck, but I can’t. I need this job.” He held out his hand.
I shook his cool, rough hand and smiled. “Oh, I know. I’ve burned my bridges. Take care, Matias, and tell the crew and cast goodbye for me. I’ll miss most of them.”
“Will do. Watch your back. Guy buys a casino for you and loses, he’ll be out for blood.” His big head swung back and forth, his brows drawn together in worry.
I snorted. “I can’t believe he thought it would work. Hope he loses his shirt on this lousy place and you all get better jobs.”
“Don’t worry about us.” He jerked his head to the side, away from the door. “Get going. Fast.”
I trotted away, eager to leave Theoden’s territory. At the edge of the Royale’s property, I stepped across the invisible border and slowed slightly. A long, black limo pulled up beside me, the passenger side window rolling down. “Ms. Flammen, I’ve been directed to give you a ride.”
I kept walking. “No thanks. Not interested in anything from your boss. Bye now.”
The window rolled up, but the limo shadowed me until I let myself in the gate at the Paradise Road apartment. Then I broke into a run, thudding up the stairs and down the hall to my front door. I unlocked the door and entered.
Clover sprawled on the couch in leggings and a sports bra, smoking a cigarette. I snatched the smelly thing from her lips and doused it in the sink, spraying the room with freshener before she realized what I’d done. “Hey, that’s mine.”
I glared at her. “The deal was no smoking in the apartment, not even on the balcony. You know that. You’ve got until the end of the month, then you’re out.” I yanked all the blood boxes from the top shelf, stacking them in bags, and carried them to my room.
“You can’t throw me out! I have rights!” Clover struggled to her feet and staggered towards me.
I put a hand on her forehead, holding her away. Silly little girl. “I owe you nothing. You broke the rules, over and over.” I shifted my hand to grip her chin. “Listen good. The rent is paid until the end of the month. Straighten out your life while you can, Clover, because Theoden won’t be paying you any more.”
“What? Theoden’s not paying me!” She looked down at the carpet, her right hand clenched around her phone.
I pushed her, sending her tumbling back to the couch while sliding the phone from her grip. “He doesn’t need you. He bought the Royale. Good luck.” I let myself into my room and locked the door behind me. On my phone, I logged into my bank accounts and transferred everything but the minimums to my Bitcoin wallet and off-shore accounts.
Ignoring Clover’s tiny fists pounding on my door, I grabbed my big suitcase and packed practical clothing, leaving my pricey uniforms behind. My toiletries and makeup went into my smaller suitcase, and the blood boxes. Two changes of clothes went in my tote bag, along with my emergency escape supplies.
Lifting the bed, I unlocked the safe under the floor, and tossed the gold, silver and cash into the tote bag. Then I pulled out a thin waist pouch with cash, cards, and ID, a short gray wig, a loose flowered dress, a pair of gold-framed glasses and white tennis shoes with one sole higher than the other. In the bathroom, I wiped the makeup from my face, and lightened my brows to silver with a brow pencil. After putting on the dress and shoes, I slid the glasses and wig into place, and added short white gloves. As a last touch, I put a pre-paid credit card in my bra.
The charmed wig instantly transformed me into a harmless old woman. I rounded my shoulders, and the uneven shoes made me limp, enhancing my appearance. Cameras in the hallway could catch me, but I wasn’t leaving through my front door or my living room balcony. I rolled my suitcases to the closet, pulled the hidden lever, and yanked the folding stair off the ceiling. It banged on the floor, and Clover screeched.
I entered the code, undid the padlock, and withdrew the security bars, then heaved the hidden door up. Warm desert air blew down. I grabbed my suitcases and placed them quietly on the roof, then joined them. Crouching, I closed the hatch and secured it, then lowered the fake air conditioning tower into place, covering my escape route from casual eyes. Or a drone. I scanned the skies, but didn’t see any, and I’d moved rooftop security cameras away a long time ago. Removing my phone from the pocket of the ridiculous mumu, I took the sim card out, broke it in two, and threw it across the roof.
When the next airplane roared above me, I lifted my suitcases, and trod carefully across the portions of roofing I’d padded with rubber mats. At the far side of the big complex, I uncoiled a rope from the front pocket of my smaller suitcase, and lowered my luggage to the ground. Then I followed, rappelling down the rough stucco wall, and rolled my cases to a slightly dented silver 2003 Nissan Sentra. Pretending it took all I had, I struggled to load the cases into the trunk, and drove to the front of the complex. A series of elderly women had used this vehicle to run errands for years now, but they all knew it could disappear at any time. Alice, the current “owner,” rarely drove anymore; she wouldn’t miss it.
Leaving the car running, I slid my keys, gate fob, and Clover’s phone into the mail hatch on the manager’s office door, along with a note asking her to return the phone. I really didn’t care if she did or not, knowing Clover had betrayed me for cash. Or cigarettes, which was even worse. Then I removed the battery from my phone, dropping that and the phone out the window as I left the lousy apartment complex for the last time.
I wouldn’t miss the place, not one little bit.
***To be continued***
Working Class Vegas Vamp Copyright © 2024 by AM Scott. All Rights Reserved.