Page 4 of The Right Garza
Ellie:Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.
Me:Take a 5k loss and GET OUT. We can hit somewhere else tomorrow.
Ellie:Hell no. 20k then I’m out.
Ellie:It’s all chill in here I swear. No risk.
Me:Vegas is different, babe. Listen to me.
Ellie:Text you soon. You’re distracting me.
“For shit’s sake,” I mumble to myself. “She never listens.She never frickin’ listens.”
I take two big gulps of my gin and tonic—because drinks on the strip are expensive as hell, so damn if I’m letting it go to waste—before starting out of the bar. If Ellie won’t listen to me, then there’s no point wandering around here waiting for her.
Me:Going back to the apartment. Call Marco when you’re ready.
I head in the opposite direction ofBlack Gold Casinoand start the eight-minute walk to the cab station where my cousin, Marco, works.
I’m walking pastWildDice Casinowhen a familiar voice comes at me out of nowhere. “Well, well, well. Lexi Flores.”
I wince. Had I been thinking clearly, I would’ve crossed the street before passingWildDice, just in case its dickwad proprietor was standing outside its doors, smoking a cigar, as he often does.
Reluctantly, I stop and turn to face my old boss. Jimmy Winston—being a skinny little toothpick of a man, goes by “Slim.” He’s leaned against one of the columns in his entryway, puffing an illegal cigar. As usual, he’s styled like an old school grease-ball—powder-blue suit with the undershirt unbuttoned down to his chest, a gold chain nestled in his forest of chest hair. Gelled-back brown hair and a well-groomed goatee. Thick gold rings on each finger.
“Back in Vegas, I see,” he says. “Savings finally run out, yes?”
Like it’s some big secret, he refuses to tell anyone where he’s from. He speaks with a heavy accent I’ve never been able to place, and his English is jacked all the way up.
“This is where I live,asshole.”
“Not on strip. If you here, then you running on E and looking for a loophole to top-up.” He narrows his eyes as he takes another puff of his cigar. “Already found one?”
“You think you know everything, don’t you?”
He shrugs. “I only know the game ‘cause I lived it.”
“Whatever.” I turn and start to walk off. “Night, Slim. As always, running into you is a total mood killer.” And I ran into him a lot, no matter where I was.
“You can come back, you know,” he calls after me. “You one of my best counters. I call a few people, yes? And, ah, how you say, pull some strings, get you unbanned, yes?”
Yeah, but it would still be seventy-thirty. Or even less now since I would be crawling back with my tail between my legs.
“Nah, I’m good.”
He chuckles. “Ah, sexy Lexi, you want to keep up lifestyle and, how you say, ‘stunt for the gram’? Then you know where to find me, yes?”
I roll my eyes but don’t break my stride. Is it tempting to go back to working for him? One hundred percent. I’ve considered it for months. But he’ll never agree to anything other than a seventy-thirty split and we’re the ones doing all the hard work. Sure, he keeps us safe and out of the crosshairs of the casino owners, which is critical, but seventy percent of everything we make is a nasty deal.
When I get to the taxi stand, Marco has just returned from a job and is spraying his door handles with alcohol. “You’re heading home already?”
“Yeah, I’m not feeling so well,” I lie.
He glances behind me. “Where’s the blonde you came with?”
“She’s at Black Gold. She’s not ready to leave yet. I told her to call you when she is.”
“Ah, cool. Hop in. Got another pick-up in a few.”
