Staying in Vegas by Sam Mariano

3

Rafe

There’s something deeply entertaining about watching a grown man sweat. Men who have been alive twice as long as you, who have had enough time to learn the ropes—men who, by all rights, should have the wisdom and maturity not to get themselves in a bad situation. Failing that, they should scrape up enough sense not to come to someone like me to help them out with their problems. A scorpion will never help an insect, but if they want to be his next meal, he won’t turn them away.

Some men are fools.

I like those men.

No, that’s wrong. I don’t like them, but I do like putting the screws to them and watching them sweat.

Pour me some cognac and pass the popcorn; my ass is entertained.

The potbellied, double-chinned man who sits in the chair in front of me is sweating. Edmund Carmichael. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t come myself—not now. Not with Ben dead. I used to fuck Cassandra Carmichael, though—not just on a casual basis, she was my girlfriend for a while. Because I’m one hell of an ex, I showed up myself to remind her father of the money he owes me.

Most men, I would have just sent Sin to break an arm or take a couple nonessential fingers.

I’ll be charging extra for the consideration, obviously.

Carmichael can’t hold his hand steady as he waves, trying to get the attention of a cocktail waitress. That this man is in his own club and unable to command his own employee’s attention tells me all I really need to know about him. Cassandra was supposed to take over ownership of this place, that’s why I made the loan to begin with. Old man Carmichael has always been useless, but Cassandra has a good head on her shoulders. Shrewd, able to turn the tides in her favor. Cassandra would’ve made sure her debt was paid.

The waitress finally looks his way, but she appears to be busy with something else and walks away instead of coming over to him.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he mutters, irritably, pushing up off the chair.

I hold up a hand to halt him. “Don’t worry about the drinks. I’m not here for drinks, Edmund.”

“No, I know, of course you’re not.” He shakes his head, his bulbous cheeks jiggling. I manage to stifle a grimace, but it’s a Herculean effort. Cassandra clearly got her looks from her mother and the pool boy she must have been fucking at the time. “I just wanted to give Cassandra a little extra time to get here—I don’t know what’s keeping her.”

“She was never punctual,” I state. “Now, regarding the matter of your past due debt, obviously there’ll be a penalty for your late repayment. I would really hate for it to seem like you don’t respect me, like I’m some kind of charitable asshole who gives away his money and doesn’t enforce a deadline. That would be… unwise, given my new position, don’t you think?”

“I would never—No one would ever think such a thing, Rafe. You’re like a son to me.”

I smile, but there’s no humor in it. It’s not a good move to keep reminding me of my relationship with his daughter, given the way she ended things, but for some reason this dim old man keeps playing that card.

He sweats a little more. “I always had hopes you and Cassandra would patch things up, you know. Before all this, when Ben was in charge, even. She really cared for you.”

“You know what I’m starting to think, Edmund? I’m starting to think you don’t have my money. I’m starting to think you’re under the false impression that my prior involvement with your daughter is going to buy you more good will than it’ll buy you, and I’m thinking maybe you and me are going to have a problem.”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “We don’t have a problem.”

“Then you have my money.”

“I don’t, but it’s the craziest—you wouldn’t believe what happened—”

I hold up a hand. “Let me stop you right there. You’re right, I wouldn’t believe it.” I push up off the chair and Sin steps forward, emerging from the shadows he melted into a few minutes ago. His cold, empty eyes zero in on Edmund and the older man looks between us, jowls jiggling, forehead perspiring.

“Rafe—”

“Here’s what I’m going to do for you,” I tell him. “I’m going to give you 24 hours. If you have the money—and an extra five percent, for my troubles—then we can call it square. If, on the other hand, you do not have my money, I’m going to start feeling like our friendship has been taken for granted, my good will taken advantage of. Disappoint me, Edmund, and you’ll see how quickly my friendship can disappear.”

Fear flickers in the old man’s wide-set eyes—the same fear he must have been experiencing when he was out of money and turned to me as his last hope. A question tickles at the back of my mind, but I try to ignore it. Cassandra Carmicheal’s problems aren’t mine, so her father’s sure as hell aren’t.

If he wanted to appeal to someone for money, he should’ve asked the dirty fucking Russian asshole she left me for. He came to me instead. So that must be over.

I haven’t been keeping tabs. Intentionally. I kept tabs too closely when she first left and it was torture. I buried her memory under a mountain of anonymous pussy and eventually got my head right.

I’m not cracking open that Pandora’s Box. I’m not asking those questions. I shouldn’t have given the bastard money in the first place. That was a mistake.

“You and Cassandra should go out,” he blurts, trying and failing for a slick way to make the suggestion. “She’s been thinking about you a lot lately.”

“Well, I haven’t been thinking about her,” I inform him. “I came here today as a courtesy, but you’ve seen the extent of my graciousness. I don’t accept payment in pussy, not even your daughter’s, so I suggest you find a way to come up with the cash.” I stand, smile, and offer my hand. “Sound good?”

I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, dread written all over his face as he shakes my hand. He nods anyway, though. He knows that’s the only correct response.

My business with Edmund Carmichael concluded for the day, I drop his hand and head for the door. My men sidle up behind me, all except for Sin, who falls into step beside me.

“Don’t say it,” I tell him.

“Say what?” he asks blandly.

“I shouldn’t have lent Carmichael the money. I already know that.”

“I’m glad you already know that,” he responds, easily. “I wish you had already known that when you said you were going to do it and I tried my damnedest to talk you out of it, but I’m glad you know it now.”

I slide him a dry look, but he’s not looking at me anymore. He’s watching the waitress who ignored us the whole time we were here. We don’t ordinarily come to Carmichael’s club and I haven’t been in my position long, but we’re not used to being ignored. Sin draws his wallet out. I don’t realize what he’s doing until he crosses in front of me and pecks her on the shoulder.

The girl turns back, brushing a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear. Poor thing looks frazzled. Then baffled, as Sin holds out a twenty dollar bill.

“What’s this for?” she asks him.

“The incredible service,” he states, dryly.

She blinks, unsure whether or not she’s just been insulted.

Sin doesn’t wait for her to figure it out. He hands her the twenty and leaves her standing there, confused as all hell, while an annoyed customer waits for her attention back.

I can’t hold back a smirk as we head out the door. “You’re such a dick.”

“She’s a terrible waitress,” he states. “She needs to find a new line of work. Or at least study up on who the fuck she should pay attention to in this town.”

That part is true.

“Should we get some dinner?” I ask him.

Sin checks his watch. “Can it wait an hour? I have a couple errands to run.”

“Sure. I’m gonna head home, just come over when you’re done and we’ll head out.”