Page 9 of All Bets Are Off

Dad made a face. “That’s your title. Do you oversee the casino operations?”

“I … do things.” I definitely didn’t like where this was going. I’d been promoted to my current position three years before when my uncle Dexter retired. And by “retire” I mean he moved to a tropical island with his twenty-year-old girlfriend and still got his share of dividends every month. He just decided he was no longer working.

“What do you do?” Dad leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. This felt like a trick question.

“Well, right now I’m having a conversation with the chief operating officer of the Stone Group.”

“Uh-huh.” Dad’s smile was tight. “Who runs the casino, Zachary?”

The question irked me. I knew what answer was expected, however. “You do.”

“I do,” Dad agreed. “I handle all the day-to-day operations. You occasionally wade in when there’s a dispute between the chefs or a maid decides that she was sexually harassed by one of the guests.”

“I don’t think they ‘decide’ they were sexually harassed,” I argued. “There’s a genuine sense of impropriety from some of the guests, and it’s not fair to the staff.”

“Yes, alcohol makes people turn into idiots,” Dad agreed. “Do you ever meet with the unions? Do you ever oversee conferences? Do you ever actually make plans for the future of this casino?”

He knew the answer to that. Unfortunately, so did I. “Is this you firing me?” I wasn’t nearly as worked up about the possibility as I might’ve been under different circumstances. In some ways, it would be a godsend. Not having to answer to my father on a daily basis would be awesome. Of course, I had zero marketable skills outside the family, so finding another job that would afford me a penthouse in a top casino was unlikely. Still, how bad would it be to not have the family money to fall back on? Thinking on the subject had my stomach going suddenly queasy.

The answer was bad. It would be very, very bad. “What do you want from me?” I asked finally.

“I want to retire, Zachary,” Dad replied. “I want to have an end date in sight. You were promoted three years ago because I expected you to start figuring things out. I wanted you to take a hands-on approach.”

“That’s pretty difficult when you second-guess everything I do,” I muttered under my breath, the words escaping before I could think better of it.

Dad arched an eyebrow. “That’s how it works. You wade in, you make some mistakes, I correct those mistakes, and you learn. You’re not doing any learning, though.”

I frowned. “I learn things.”

“The only thing you’ve learned is how to get up the skirt of whatever showgirl strikes your fancy this month. Don’t think I’m not aware that you’ve been through seven of the ten women on the current cabaret line.”

I shouldn’t have gone for a quip. Since I couldn’t help myself, that’s exactly what I did. “I guess that means I still have work to do.” I winked, and then instantly regretted it.

“The other three are lesbians and think you’re gross,” Dad said. “Quite frankly, this playboy stuff that you’ve embraced was expected when you were twenty-two, and mildly cute—at least according to your mother—when you were twenty-five, but it’s just sad now that you’ve passed thirty.”

I wanted to call him on the carpet regarding his assistant but didn’t dare. It was obvious I was walking a very tight, very narrow line right now. “I didn’t realize my dating habits were important to the company,” I said instead.

“Well, they are.” Dad was firm. “You are a reflection of this family. It’s time for you to settle down.”

Was he being serious right now? “What is that supposed to mean?” I was afraid to hear his answer, but I asked the question anyway.

“It means that you need to start getting serious about life,” Dad said. “That starts with the playboy persona taking a permanent dirt nap in the desert. You’re also going to start sitting in on financial meetings, and you’ll start taking an active interest with the unions and department heads.”

That sounded terminally boring … and maybe a little exciting. The truth was, I’d given up trying to be proactive with the casino’s long-term operations not long after sliding into my current position. Day-to-day operations were one thing. My father didn’t give me grief about that. Whenever I had a suggestion for the future, however, he shot me down.

“I don’t understand.” I licked my lips. “Are you saying you’re retiring?”

Dad snorted. “I can’t retire until I’m certain you’re capable of taking over. I keep thinking that you’ll grow up eventually and get serious about stuff. You don’t, though. You act like you’retwenty-two and you don’t have any responsibilities. It’s become apparent that I’m going to have to force you to be responsible.”

That sounded ominous. “I don’t … how is that going to work?”

“You’ll be provided with a schedule each week,” he replied. “You will attend each and every meeting required of you.”

That would be tedious and draining, but I could manage it. Or at least I hoped I could. He clearly wasn’t done, though.

“You’ll also start dating appropriate women,” he continued.

My stomach constricted. “And who gets to decide if they’re appropriate?”

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