Page 1 of His Kingdom

ChapterOne

She’s coming back. She will come back for me. My mom. She always comes back for me. I don’t know how long she’s been gone now. My stomach hurts. I’m hungry. But I don’t dare move from this spot, because I need to be here when she comes back.

“Stay right there, Louie. I’ll be back as soon as I finish work and then we can go and get the biggest burger and fries,” Mom said.

I think about that burger. I wonder if Mom will get me a milkshake too? I won’t ask for it, though. My mom gets sad when I ask for things and she can’t buy them. One day, I’m going to have enough money to buy her everything, so she never has to be sad again.

A flashlight shines over the end of the dark alley. I huddle myself farther back. My mom left me between two dumpsters. She said I’d be warmer if I stayed out of the wind. Las Vegas is in the desert. Which means it’s always warm during the day and cool at night.

Heavy footsteps get closer and closer until the beam of light is blinding me, and my eyes scrunch closed.

“It’s okay. You can come out. We’re here to help you,” a man’s voice says.

Mom told me I should never trust any man but myself. She said they’re all liars and cheats. So I don’t move.

“It’s okay. Come on out, little man. Let’s get you something to eat.” A lady’s voice has me opening my eyes. I can trust a lady, right? Mom didn’t say not to trust ladies. Just men.

“I can’t leave. My mom is coming back for me,” I reply.

“Do you know your mom’s name? We can help you look for her,” the lady says.

“It’s Maria. And I don’t have to look because she’s coming back.”

“Okay, let me take you down to the station and we can look for your mom.” The lady doesn’t seem to understand.

“Will my mom be in trouble?” Police mean trouble. They don’t always help. I know that. I’ve seen lots of Mom’s friends get taken away by the police.

“No, she’s not going to be in trouble.”

I push myself to my feet and walk towards the lady. I’m weak. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I kept falling asleep and waking up.

“Good boy. Let’s get you warm, and then we can get you something to eat,” the lady tells me.

* * *

I wake up from the recurring nightmare. Hungry. Starving actually. Just like I was that day, and many days after it. So I get up out of bed and head into the kitchen. The fridge is full of ready-made fresh meals. My housekeeper ensures it’s always fully stocked.

I made a promise to myself the moment I found out my mother was never coming back for me that I was going to one day have so much money, my own house, and my own fridge full of food. I promised myself I’d never go hungry again. And still, every fucking day, I wake up starving, as if I haven’t eaten in a week.

I pull out a container of pasta and throw it in the microwave. While it’s heating up, I walk back into my room and retrieve my phone. I open the app that controls the blinds and hit the button that lets the light flow into the penthouse. It’s three in the afternoon. But when you work nights, you sleep days. Or at least try to sleep anyway.

The microwave dings, and I grab the pasta and set it on the counter as I delete the first few messages that aren’t important. I don’t have time to waste on bullshit. Running this city takes all of my time. Being a king isn’t for the weak—that’s for fucking sure. And in this city, Las Vegas, the city of sin, I am the king.

I rule with an iron fist too. Nothing happens that I don’t know about. I worked my ass off to reach the top of the food chain, and I don’t plan on letting anyone kick me off my throne.

I open a message from Sammie; he’s one of the two men I let close enough to call friends. After all, a king doesn’t reign alone. He always has his court, and just like any good ruler, I have carefully chosen the men who work for me.

Sammie:

Bossman, a delivery just came in for you.

My lips tip up as I read his message. When Sammie has a delivery for me at Wild Card, it usually means he’s got a bunch of women holed up in the VIP room. I own three casinos here on the strip: Royal Flush, Wild Card, and Aces High. Sammie runs the Wild Card and Carlo, the other lucky bastard I let into my circle, handles Aces High.

Me:

A delivery? Did you pay for it?

I laugh, counting down the seconds for Sammie’s reply. He has a thing about paying for pussy, says he never has and never will. I don’t know what his hangup with prostitutes is, but he can’t stand them.

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