Page 29 of Russian Roulette
After Vulcan leaves, Kit turns to me. “Come on into the kitchen and have a seat at the bar. You must be tired after last night’s ordeal with Vulcan. Sorry we left you there alone with him. We didn’t have better options.”
“You had plenty of options,” I point out. “Including bringing me back to Vegas.”
I climb up on one of the bar stools in front of a long kitchen counter to watch him work. He doesn’t answer and instead begins cramming a variety of greens, vegetables and fruits into a food processor. Kit obviously takes his green drinks seriously. As someone who doesn’t prioritize healthy eating, I’m slightly apprehensive of my food choices here.
“What’s in the protein drink?” I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be able to stomach it as he continues to add large chunks of ginger and dashes of cayenne pepper.
“Everything except the kitchen sink.” He hits the button on the food processor and the loud roar drowns out our conversation. When the drink is blended, he pours me an enormous glass and slides it along the counter toward me.
“Try it,” he says, giving me an expectant look. “If you don’t like it, I can fix something else.”
“Like what?”
“Protein pancakes,” he answers, dead serious.
I burst out laughing. “I should’ve guessed. Vulcan said you’re vegetarian.”
“I am. Initially, my focus was on animal welfare, but I soon realized it’s a healthier way of eating. I can consume sufficient protein without having to rely on animal products.”
I allow my eyes to travel down his body, from his bulging chest muscles to his huge biceps. Unlike Vulcan, there isn’t a single tattoo on his body.
“Obviously it hasn’t hurt you in building muscle or body tone,” I remark. “You must work out with weights. Do you go to the gym every day?”
I hope to encourage him to talk to me. The closer I can get to these guys, the sooner they’ll let me go and I’ll be on my way out of Vegas. Kit is my best chance and I’m still planning to leave Vegas today.
“Every day, no matter what, I work out with weights,” he replies. “The cats are strong, much stronger than I could ever be. And they’re heavy too and stubborn. I need to be as strong as I can be to work with them. Not that they ever let me forget who the boss is really, and it sure isn’t me.”
I lean forward and take a huge sip of the protein drink. I try hard not to make a face. It tastes very… green more than anything else. A take another tiny sip. Surprisingly, the drink is growing on me. It’s tasty with a bite of ginger and nuts.
“The drink is good,” I tell him. “Much better than I expected.” He gives me a small smile, pleased at my answer. “What’s up with the tiger? Vulcan said you have several.”
He chuckles softly. “You can say that. I have a few, along with many other animals. My goal is to turn the ranch into a full-time animal sanctuary one day. Right now, it’s just a dream that I’m working toward.”
“Wow! That sounds cool. Why can’t you do it now?”
“Money,” he spits out. “It will take millions of dollars to set the sanctuary up right. I’ve already acquired the land, so it’s mostly just a matter of making sure I have enough excess funds in the bank for their care. Exotic animals are very expensive to feed, along with their specialized vet care. I’ll get there, eventually. It will take time, that’s all.”
“How do you afford to take care of them now? Are you an animal trainer? What do you do?”
I’m surprised Kit is talkative after what Vulcan told me. I’m not blowing my chance to gather as much information as I can from him. Even if it means sitting here and drinking spinach all day.
He doesn’t answer my question and continues cleaning up the butcher block. Whipping up green drinks must be a pain in the ass because there are pieces of chopped kale, carrots, and apple peelings everywhere. Too much effort for me when picking up an energy drink and a package of potato chips at a convenience store is so easy.
“You might as well tell me,” I say, leaning forward on the counter. “I’ll find out, eventually. Not every man keeps a tiger at his house.”
He lets out a resigned sigh. “I headline a show in one of the big hotels here in Vegas.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “What kind of show? You don’t strike me as a comedian or a singer.”
“You don’t think I’m funny?” His solemn tone tells me he’s serious.
“I haven’t known you long enough to make a judgement call on your sense of humor,” I reply. If I had to guess though, I’d say Kit has an unusual sense of humor and doesn’t find funny the things most other guys would. He’s serious and subdued, almost broody.
“My show is a type of animal act. The tigers and other animals are the stars. I’m just there primarily as man candy to bring in the ladies.”
“And you play the part so well,” I tease. “You don’t seem very enthusiastic about your show. Aren’t you living the American dream to be headlining your own show in Vegas?”
“It’s a way to make a living, that’s all. And I’m not complaining because the money is more than I ever dreamed of, and I can use it to take care of the animals I rescue.”
