"Exactly." She taps the toe of her expensive shoe on the floor. The woman is dressed to impress tonight. The pink cocktail dress she's wearing shows off curves I never knew existed beneath her typical outfit of choice. I've never seen her in anything that wasn't navy blue or white. Sometimes it's a skirt with a blazer. On the breezier days, she changes the skirt out for a pair of slacks. A white blouse is always part of her ensemble. If it has ruffles down the front, she's feeling adventurous.
Tonight must be an all-out circus based on the fact that she's wearing makeup and her hair isn't tucked into the tight braid it's usually in. It's a wild, blown-out mess.
"You're firing me because of what I did to Jerry?"
"Jack-off Jerry?" she volleys backs. "What did you do to him?"
Wait. What? Who calls him that other than himself?
I point at the pool of Jerry's blood that is now surrounded by four yellow caution signs that were placed by one of my co-workers. The resort is committed to cleanliness, so I have no doubt that someone with a bucket and a wet mop is on their way. "That."
She looks down at the floor, shaking her head. "Jerry deserves worse. He's the scum of the earth, that one. "
My forehead scrunches as I try to piece together exactly what's happening. I see Adley standing behind Ms. Griffin. She's listening intently to our conversation. She's not alone. Crew Benton, the man who just introduced himself to me before I was promptly kicked to the curb, is also within earshot, as are Nolan Black and Lacy. If my humiliation wasn't off the charts before, it's launched into the stratosphere now.
"Why am I being fired?" I ask calmly, smoothly. If I'm going to have any chance to salvage my job, I need to appear rational, even though I'm in full panic mode inside. "I haven't done anything to warrant termination of my employment. My last review was stellar."
"I didn't say you weren't great at your job, Ellie." Her eyes drift from my face to where Nolan and Crew are standing. "There is security camera footage of you taking a picture in the casino of two guests. You're well aware that's not permitted on the casino floor, yet you took the male guest's phone from him and happily took the picture while they posed. It's a clear violation."
I rest my palm on my cheek. I know that rule. It's one of the obscure rules that virtually every guard breaks in some way. Most of us look the other way when a guest visiting Las Vegas from out of town takes a selfie or poses next to the screen of a slot machine they've won on.
I've only requested once that someone stop taking pictures when I noticed he had a high-end camera in his hands and an agenda that seemed to be outside the norm for a regular casino patron. I escorted him to the central security office and they took it from there.
"You're talking about the elderly couple from two nights ago, aren't you?" I question. "It was their first time in Vegas and it was her eightieth birthday. I was careful to position them away from any tables or slot machines. I made an exception because they asked politely if I could take the picture instead of just taking it themselves."
"An exception?" She shakes her head. "You're not authorized to grant exceptions, Ellie."
The finality in her tone is unmistakable. I'm not going to win this battle. I'm not sure I want to. This job pays shit. I live in a bachelor suite with no air conditioning, intermittent hot water and a neighbor who plays a medley of classical music early every morning. I love Mozart. I'm a big fan of Beethoven. I just don't want to hear it as soon as I come home from my shift when all I'm seeking is a few hours of sleep.
"Why fire me tonight?" I ask because Ms. Griffin doesn't strike me as the type to publicly shame people if it can be avoided. "Couldn't you have done this tomorrow? In private?"
"That was my original intention," she says with a half-grin. "I was going to have my assistant call you in the morning so we could handle this then, but I noticed you on my way into the club. I thought why not get it over with now?"
I sigh, heavily. Instead of enjoying Adley's last night in Vegas, I now have an unemployment cloud hanging over my head.
Way to rain on my party parade, Ms. Griffin.
"It looks like I'm heading to New York with you, Adley." I look right at my best friend. "If you know where I can score a job, I'm there."
"I have a job for you." Crew Benton steps closer, his open hand reaching for me. "It's nice to meet you, Ellie Madden. You're officially hired."
***
I shake his hand again, not sure if this time it's a simple hello, nice to meet you, or if I'm making a deal with the devil. The man looks like sin. I can't even imagine what the job he's offering entails.
I draw the line at pet sitting an iguana or wearing a sandwich board while walking around Times Square. I've done both of those things and I know when repeating history is a mistake.
"It looks like you're all set, Ellie," Ms. Griffin says, obvious relief in her tone. "I can offer a recommendation if need be. Ellie is an exemplary employee when she isn't writing her own rule book."
I smile at her. I sense she's done me a favor. The only reason I'm still in this city is because there's a very slim chance that I might land a job with the Las Vegas Police Department. It's looking increasingly less likely that will ever happen. I have no ties left here. My life is back in New York City. It's where I belong.