Page 16 of Veil of Obsession
“It still wouldn’t be a political rally if I stuck my dagger down your fucking throat, now, would it?”
The little smirks on their faces instantly drop.
My uncle, like the little bitch he is, turns to Vince and goads him. “Tell me, Vincent, don’t you think that the Camorra is perfectly fine as it is without the Capo and his entourage of progressives trying to revolutionize it?”
Vince doesn’t break a sweat. “I think you should stop being the gossip mill of whatever shit you’re trying to stir up and sit the fuck back and relax. Maybe even act your age.”
I drop my cards face-down on the table, pushing my chair back and standing up. “This shit is boring. I’m leaving.”
The other soldier, who has been quiet this entire time, speaks up. “But what about the money you’ve bet?”
Before I can answer, the other one chimes in and says, “No take-backsies.”
Fucking annoying and pathetic.
“The money I bet is no longer useful to me. You clowns forget that my family owns this casino.” I lean over, getting in the face of the guy who chimed in. “And maybe try hopping off my dick. It’s pissing me off.”
His face reddens, but he doesn’t say another word, his lips twisting as if he had sucked on a lemon.
I straighten my jacket and turn to Vince. “You staying Vince?”
Vincent drops his cards and grabs his leather jacket off the back of his chair. “Nah. I think I’ll head out too.”
No one else speaks up as Vince and I walk out. Pulling out my cigarette pack, I offer him one. He takes it, and I pull one out with my teeth and bend toward the light Vincent holds up.
“Going straight home?” he asks me as I head toward my Roadster.
Shaking my head, I tell him, “It’s only two. I’m heading to the Helvegr club. Do you want to come?”
“Do I want to go to the most exclusive club, second only to Vault 61? Fuck yeah, man.”
Vince rounds the car to the passenger side, and I slide into the driver’s seat, revving the engine a couple of times before speeding out of the dark casino garage. He doesn’t seem to be much of a talker, so I let him stew in his own thoughts as I think of the little stalker that I can’t seem to shake off.
I still haven’t told Emiliano—or anyone, for that matter—about the little break-in. It’s not like I owe him anything. None of those fuckers share anything with me anyway.
Vincent jolts forward when I press the brakes too fast and sounds like he’s choking for a second. I ignore him and push my door open. The loud music can be heard from the outside; there’s a line of mostly young college kids. They won’t get in, not if their parents are just ordinary folks. Helvegr only allows politicians, socialites, and billionaires. Just the elites with a net worth of at least five hundred million. The only other way to get in is by association and the elites program. Each founding member is allowed to nominate three people every ten years.
We don’t wait in line. I walk past Jim the bouncer that’s usually here on weekends and greet him.
“’Sup, Jimmy?”
He grunts. “Not much. Here to find another poor victim?”
I give him a wink. “They’re not victims if they’re willing. Besides, who you calling poor? They’re blessed to even witness my holy presence.”
“Yer the fucking devil, is what you are.” Jim’s strong southern drawl rarely happens unless he’s getting agitated, and I take it as my sign to get the fuck inside before he tries to throw me out.
I look back at Vince and say, “Come on before he tries to throw us out.”
Vault 61 is sophisticated, sleek, and modern, but Helvegr is chaos, corruption, and hell on earth. At least for those who hate drugs, sex, and everything that screams trouble. We walk in, and the music is so loud you can barely hear anything else. Some new rap song comes on the speakers and loud cheers erupt throughout the entire place. The hallway is dark save for the red neon lights that illuminates the path toward the actual club scene. Vincent stays close behind, and we finally make it out of the hallway.
It’s packed—a swarm of bodies, sweaty, half naked, and dancing practically on top of each other. I can see a couple of people doing lines at the bar before downing shots.
Tapping Vince on the shoulder, I shout in his ear so he’s able to hear me over the music. “I’m going to go to the bar and grab a drink. Do whatever the fuck you want, but you better get your own ride. And don’t try cock-blocking me because I’ll cut yours off.”
Walking to the bar, I spot a brunette sitting with her friends. She’s tall, pretty, maybe early twenties. Her eyes meet mine: electric blue, a money piece, and a tight dress. She bites her lip, her eyes on me.
I give her a wink before I call Cody, my usual bartender, over. “You see that pretty girl with the money pieces, in the sparkly gray dress?”
