Page 19 of Vicious Little Games

As I turn to head back into the air-conditioned casino, the two guards following me, one of them says, “She's just going to spend your money on drugs or booze.”

“Then she spends it on drugs or booze,” I reply.

“What a waste.”

“It's not a waste,” I argue without bothering to turn around and see which of them is speaking. “Maybe the cash I gave her will ease her worries for a few hours, or a few days. That's priceless. I'm guessing neither of you have ever been poor?”

“Like you have,” one grumbles under his breath.

Now I do turn back around so fast the smaller, mouthy one almost runs into my chest. “You have no fucking idea what my life was like growing up. My mom never made more than minimum wage, so shit was always tough for us. We were on our own.”

Again, the two men share a look before the biggest says, “Sorry. We didn’t consider that.”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t know shit about me, and I don’t even know your names. We should probably introduce ourselves if you’re going to be my shadows.”

“I’m August.” The big one holds out his baseball mitt of a hand for me to shake, which I accept.

“Mike,” the smaller man offers when he does the same, shaking my hand.

“I’m Cole. Cole Brooks not Petrov. I didn’t know my grandfather was the head of the Russian mafia until last summer. My mom recently inherited his money and hasn’t had to work seventy-hour weeks serving cocktails to assholes for the first time in her life. I don’t have access to any of his cash, so I’m broke as hell. If I did get my hands on his millions, the first thing I would do is pay you both to fuck off.”

“Understood,” August replies. “Now, would you like us to show you where Mr. Salvato keeps his fleet?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Next time, one of us can go get a vehicle and pull it around to the front so you won’t have to walk,” August adds.

“I don’t mind walking,” I tell him.

“Where are we headed, sir?” Mike asks as August leads the way through the other side of the casino with him at my back.

“Don’t call me sir. You’re both old enough to be my father. And we’re going to pick up my friend Shane. I need to find a poker game tonight where I can make some fast cash. Know of any place?”

“No such thing. Games are all rigged in Vegas, and Mr. Salvato would be furious if we let you piss away your money,” August replies.

“So, you’re not just babysitters, you really are my new daddies, huh? I didn’t have one growing up and sure as shit don’t need one now.”

“Our job is to protect you at all costs. That includes protecting you from yourself,” August explains.

“Fine,” I huff. “Then I guess we’re going to go hang out with my friend, get drunk, play video games and brainstorm ways to make fast money.”

“If you need money, then why did you just throw some away? Or why don’t you just ask your mommy for the money?” Mike questions me, his tone mocking.

“Why don’t you just stand there and try to look tough until the great and powerful Oz gifts you a brain, scarecrow?”

“Who?”

“Shut up,” August grumbles to his colleague. “You’re not helping your case.” Then to me he says, “Why do you need money?”

“Like I would fucking tell you just so you can run and tell your boss. In fact, forget I asked.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” I agree. “Let’s go.”

If I want any of my personal shit to stay personal, I’m going to have to figure out a way to convince my security detail not to rat me out to Dante. I’ll just add that to the ever-growing list of shit I need to do:

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