His face was red and his eyes were bulging. They reminded me of boiled eggs with blue yolks.
“You broke that machine, you freak,” he said. His breath came out in puffs.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, “this thing has to be under some kind of warranty.”
“You two are coming with us.”
The bride and I were taken by the arm, but she shook free.
“I’m going to start screaming,” she said.
“All right,” the pit boss said, putting up his hands. I could see the wheels turning behind his boiled-egg eyes. He didn’t want any part of manhandling a lovely, screaming bride across the floor. Some asshole was sure to take a vid with his cell and it would be all over the Internet by noon. “You get out now, lady, and stay out. You are banned from this casino for life. Albert, take her to the door and get her into a cab.”
“Just a second,” I said, and I pushed the bucket of jingling dollars into her hands.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“Your room number. Tell me.”
“Eighteen-eleven,” she said.
I pointed to the bucket of coins. “Be careful with that. You can give it back to me later.”
Jenna gave me a quizzical look, but they led us in two opposite directions after that. I kept glancing over my shoulder at her. She was pretty, but that wasn’t my only concern. I’d put my .32 automatic in that bucket, sloshing around with the silver dollars. I watched to see if she would blow it and pull it out. She didn’t. If she’d noticed the gun, she was playing it cool.
They took me to a pair of double doors that swished shut behind me. I had the feeling they weren’t going to pay my cab fare when they were done with me.
Once we were through the doors marked “Private,” the beefy guy in the too-tight security uniform tried to twist my arm behind my back. I yanked my hand away. I could have probably taken him with a surprise elbow to the throat, but I held back. After all, my little display had been intended to get the attention of the management, not just to impress Jenna Townsend.
“You gentlemen may not know who you are dealing with,” I said.
The pit boss smirked at me. “You’re a rock star, right? No, maybe an Arab sheik?”
I shook my head. “I’m part of the Community, and I’ve come to talk to your boss.”
His eyes narrowed. I took the time to read his name tag. Bernard Kinley. I figured people probably called him Bernie.
“You’re full of shit,” Bernie said. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you. I don’t know what you were pulling back there at the blackjack table—but I do know you broke our most expensive slot machine. I don’t even know how the fuck you did that.”
“I guess they don’t build them like they used to, Bernie.”
This remark didn’t improve his mood. He put his left hand up to stop the security guard and used his right to put a finger into my face. I thought about grabbing, twisting, and breaking it—somehow I knew I could. But again, that wasn’t my purpose in coming here.
“In the old days we would have worked you over and put you out in the alley with the cats and bums. You know that?”
“Yeah,” I said, “lawyers and cameras have ruined everyone’s good time.”
Bernie snorted and we all started walking again. “You are one funny, crazy son of a bitch. You want to see the boss? OK, fine. He’s probably still awake. But you should be careful what you wish for, Draith.”
It was my turn to be surprised. I should have known they would have ID’d me by now. Casinos were paranoid places full of cameras, computers, and unsmiling security types. Money, booze, and lowlifes mixed in every casino, making a volatile brew. They knew who I was all right. Maybe they knew more about me than I did.
We came to a private elevator. We rode up at least thirty floors in silence. When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, I knew I was in a private region of the hotel. There was a lobby outside a single closed door. The burgundy carpets were rich, thick, and framed with green borders. Bernie and his henchman led me to the door and paused. There was a camera dome over the door, with one of those pricey infrared units spinning around inside. The pit boss had the security goon search me. I’d given my gun to the bride, so they didn’t find much except my wad of cash, which they left alone.
Bernie ran a card through the door slider, then touched his thumb to a pad, which glowed green after a few seconds. I was impressed by the heavy security.
The door swung open silently. The interior was black. I blinked and squinted inside.
The two men gave me a push, propelling me into the room. The pit boss laughed, which broke into a coughing fit. He put his fist to his mouth and hacked. He sounded like a smoker in his last decade of life.
“Any last words of advice for me, Bernie?” I asked as the door swung shut between us.
He grinned unpleasantly. “Too late for that, funny guy.”