Page 68 of Double or Nothing
“Okay, okay,” I say, walking over to scoop up the banana with a paper towel. “The trick is cool, though, right? How the cards slice uniformly right through the banana?”
“Someone might think so. I’ve seen better. Much better.”
“You’re in a foul mood,” I say, frowning at him. “You should eat something.”
“I will.” He opens the door of the refrigerator, scans the contents, then slams the door hard. “There are no good leftovers in here tonight,” he mutters.
“What did you bring?”
“Who me?” he says. “Hell no, I didn’t bring anything. I meant other people’s leftovers. I find all kinds of good stuff in here…lasagna, meatloaf. One time I found a whole pecan pie sitting there waiting for me to come along.”
“Do you realize you’re eating other people’s meals?” I ask. “That they brought from home for their own lunch or dinner? This isn’t a free food pantry where people drop off unwanted food for the needy.”
“Then someone should put up a yellow sticky note,” he argues. “How the hell was I supposed to know? I thought we were all one big family here. You’re always reminding us of that during your stupid motivational pep talks in the middle of the night.”
He opens the refrigerator again and snatches a strawberry yogurt out of the door. “Never forget that we’re all one big family here,” he says, mimicking my voice exactly. “Here’s a newsflash for you. Nobody wants to be a happy family at three o’clock in the damn morning. You need to let your people get some sleep. Not call them into work when you get a creative, wild hair up your crazy ass.”
“Maybe it’s time I give the team another one of those talks,” I say with a frown. “Am I difficult to work for?” I hadn’t thought about it before. I always assumed everyone was as enthusiastic as I am about making the show the best it can be.
“Nah,” he says, ripping the top off the yogurt. “You’re not a bad boss. I’m poking fun at you. If anyone doesn’t want to work for you, they can always leave. Ain’t that right? People in this town are lining up to work for you. You’re the hottest ticket on the strip these days.”
I don’t answer, my mind elsewhere.
“What’s up with you today?” he asks, frowning at me. “You’re out of sorts. You’re not sick, are you? Because if you are, I can talk to Mama about it. She’s an expert in natural remedies and cleansings, as she calls them. She can whip you up something if you’re getting sick. She’s always trying to force me to drink a weird concoction she’s whipped up. Hell, I’m afraid to even sneeze around her, because here she’ll come, two minutes later, with her little toddy glass full of God knows what. Kit should’ve been her son instead of me. They should get together and start their own business selling green drink shit. They could probably make a killing.”
“I’m not sick,” I say. “I’m worried about Jade.”
“Don’t worry about the girls. They got this. Any word from them, yet?”
“Not one damn word.” I drain the bottle of water and toss it into the recycling bin. “I can’t help worrying. I thought they would’ve given an ‘all clear’ signal by now. I wish I’d insisted on being there for the first test run or sent you as backup.”
Leroy is still prowling through the refrigerator with his free hand, searching for something else to steal. “You want me to run over to the Bora Bora and check on them?” he asks. “I’m friends with a bartender there. I could hang out at the bar and make sure they’re doing okay without drawing suspicion.” He pats his pocket. “Hang on. I’m getting a call. Might be one of my lady friends.”
He pulls his cellphone out and reads it. “Oh shit!” he says, pointing down at his phone. “There’s a shooter at the Bora Bora casino.”
“What?” I reach over and snatch the phone out of his hand. “Is anyone hurt? Did they get him?”
“Doesn’t say,” he replies. “We’d better head over there and find Jade. Make sure she’s alright.”
“Hurry and pull the limo around back while I try to get Jade on the phone,” I tell him. Quickly, I dial her number. To my shock, she picks up on the first ring. “Hello?” she whispers.
“Where are you?” I shout into the phone. “What the fuck’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Calm down, we’re fine,” Jade insists. “Everything’s fine.”
“Fine? How can you be fine? There’s a shooter at the Bora Bora.”
“It’s Igor,” she replies, her voice composed. “I’m the one who reported a shooter. We’re safe and several blocks away. He cornered us in a bathroom and Natasha stabbed him. She almost finished him off, but he got off a shot at her through his suit jacket. We ran out and started shouting about a gunman.”
“Fucking hell!” I mutter. “I knew I should’ve been at the casino today to watch your back. Did the police get him yet?”
“No idea,” she replies. “We blended in with the crowd to get out. Obviously, we didn’t stick around to answer questions from the cops.”
“Where are you now?”
“Several blocks away in a stinky back alley,” she says. “We’re waiting for the commotion to clear out before we hit the sidewalk again.”
“Stay put and we’ll be right there in the limo,” I tell her. “Don’t move. Give me the address. I’m on my way now.”
