Justin and I were foster kids bouncing all around Nevada. We had a knack for hustling as kids, and it turned out to be useful as we got older. Justin is younger than I am, but only by eleven months. Most people called us Irish twins, though we weren’t related by blood. We were closer than brothers, and being thrown into foster care made us the same in a lot of ways. Neither of us had a family so we became each other’s.
We sometimes ended up in the same grade, but that depended on what school system we were in. After we graduated together and got our high school diplomas, we made our way to Vegas. We knew a guy in our old neighborhood who had connections and got us jobs as busboys at the Gold Peacock casino, right on the strip. It was owned by Don. We got a dirt cheap apartment a few blocks away, and ate ramen noodles for months at a time. We didn’t start out with much, but we knew if we worked hard and met the right people, luck would find us, and we could go places. Justin and I dreamed big, and money motivated our every move.
After about six months at the Gold Peacock, we got our first break. One night six whales flew in for a private poker game. Not a normal private game where they’re roped off in the back and people can still see. No, this was full-on discreet. Nobody in or out, unless completely vetted by Don. Lowly busboys like us wouldn’t have ever known about this event if it wasn’t for a certain whale getting some fresh air.
Justin and I were out back on a break, waiting for our midnight-to-morning shift to start. Justin was leaning back against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette, when a big guy in a suit came out the back. He was on his phone and speaking some language I didn’t recognize. We ignored him because we knew better, and went back to our conversation about betting on the Super Bowl, and bitching about Vegas not having their own team. After a few minutes, the guy walked over and nodded at Justin’s cigarette.
“That Turkish?” The guy’s accent was thick, but he was breathing deep and smelled the spice from Justin’s smoke.
Justin nodded at him and pulled out his pack. He opened it up and offered him his last one. “Tough as shit to get out here, but worth the wait.”
“You only have one left.”
“No worries, man. It’s all you.”
“Thank you.” The guy tipped his head and Justin lit it for him. He took a long pull and closed his eyes, like it had been years since he had one and he was loving the taste. “My wife would kill me if she saw me smoking, but I can’t pass up a Turkish spice like this.”
I laughed and rested my shoulder on the brick wall next to Justin. “We can keep a secret.” It was a throwaway comment, but the guy looked us both up and down for a second as if sizing us up.
“Actually you might be just what I need tonight. I’m in a bit of a bind and I need a runner. You guys got a few minutes before you have to be back in?”
Justin looked at me, and I nodded. We both knew we had about fifteen minutes before we had to be ready for our shift. If we weren’t we’d lose our jobs. Vegas is a big city, but everyone knows everyone. And if you burnt a bridge at a casino like this, all the other casinos on the strip would hear about it. From pit boss to busboy, your reputation and work ethic follow you. I knew this, and I also knew that this opportunity was a gamble, but we’d been waiting for this kind of opportunity. It was one that could get us in a lot of trouble or it could be one that paid off. Justin nodded back at me, and I looked at the guy. “We’ve got time. What can we help you with?”
The guy smiled at us and gave us instructions on when and where to pick up a package and bring it back. After he gave us the basic details, we made our way out.
We met up at the exchange spot, and I handed over an envelope the guy gave us. The dude in the truck handed us a small box, and we sure as f*ck
didn’t ask what it was. I took it, stuck it in my back pocket, and we got the f*ck
out of there.
When we got back to the casino, the guy with the accent and Don were waiting for us in the back of the kitchen. It was just the two of them, and it was intimidating as f*ck
. Justin and I were thirty minutes late for our shift, and seeing Don there wasn’t a good sign. I didn’t bother with excuses; I just started with an apology. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cortez. My brother and I got caught up on the way to work. It won’t happen again.”
“I come out back to find my good friend Mr. Florence having a smoke, and then the kitchen manager comes out to complain about two guys skipping a night shift. I’m guessing you’re those two guys.”
“Yes, sir. We were running late. I apologize. It won’t ever happen again.” I didn’t make eye contact with Mr. Florence. I didn’t mention the reason for being late, and I pretended like the big f*ck
er wasn’t even in the room. And I absolutely didn’t mention the small box in my back pocket.
Don looked us both over, and then looked back to his friend and nodded. The two of them turned and left the kitchen without saying a word.
Justin looked over at me, and I shrugged. “Let’s get to work.”