Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I glance down at the craps table. I was trying to pretend like I hadn’t noticed, but Casey’s dealing tonight. She’s sitting in her signature high stool, wearing her thick orthopedic shoes, her hair in a high ponytail, her hands moving with practiced grace.
I love the way the deals. There’s a strange efficiency to how she handles the chips. Some dealers, they like a little flourish, as if they’re part of the show, but not Casey. She’s no-bullshit, takes the bets quickly, places them where they need to be, pays out what’s owed. She laughs with the patrons, makes jokes with them, cheers when they win and commiserates when they lose. Casey’s one of my best by far, and it’s a pleasure to keep an eye on her.
It’s no accident she’s always assigned to the craps table within best view of my hiding spot.
There are nights when she’s working and I can’t move from this spot.
Transfixed by her every move.
“Her table’s doing well,” I note, nodding at the stacks of chips in front of her patrons.
“That’s just Casey. She’s good luck. The dice love her.”
“More than just the dice,” I say, looking at my friend. “I spoke to her a couple nights ago.”
He grimaces and doesn’t return my stare. “What’d she say?”
“You can probably guess.”
“Ran screaming?”
“Hobbled screaming, but yes.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t joke.”
“You’re right. That was in poor taste.” I glance back down at her. “It’s just, I thought this would be easier.”
“She’ll come around.” Will leans back with a groan. “And if she doesn’t, we’ll drop her piece-of-shit brother into the Atlantic Ocean and let him sink to the bottom with the dozens of other thieving assholes we’ve caught over the years.”
“She won’t like that.”
“You worry too much about what she wants.”
“That’s a good point.”
Though Will knows damn well I can’t help myself.
“She’ll come around,” he insists, leaning on his elbows again. His voice turns contemplative. “Worry less about her and more about Tony taking over this town.”
“Fucking Tony,” I murmur.
“Fucking Tony,” Will agrees.
We lapse into silence. The mention of Tony never fails to put me in a terrible mood. My former best friend and ex-business partner is a constant source of pain and frustration. I never wanted our relationship to devolve into this mess we’re currently in, but years of fighting, backstabbing, sabotage, and outright war has made sure that so long as the other is standing, there will always be hell in Atlantic City.
“What I don’t understand is where he got the money from,” I say as if we’d been having this discussion all night.
Will knows exactly what I mean. “The Oceanview isn’t doing all that great. I hear gambling income’s down across the board and the place is only partially booked on a good night.”
“Tony doesn’t have deep contacts, he doesn’t have a family backing him, he’s got nothing. A bank isn’t going to fund a new casino. I haven’t heard of any big investors sniffing around. So where is the money coming from?”
“That’s the question,” Will admits. “If we can figure that out, we might be able to figure out who’s been trying to pay off the Sunrise board.”
I grunt in reply, unable to form a coherent sentence. The mention of the board always sends me into a tailspin of rage.
They’re a constant pain in my ass and a relic of an older time. My father set up the board and stocked it with his own people—which worked great for him, since they were loyal. The board gave him some semblance of accountability without actually ever holding him accountable.
Now though, the board doesn’t always follow orders. Instead, the old fucks my father installed think they know what’s best for the Sunrise, though most of them rarely ever step foot in this place.
The Sunrise is my home. It’s my life. I grew up in these halls and I know every inch of the building from the freezers in the kitchens to the storage in the roof. I know every duct, every screw, every doorjamb. And still the board second-guesses every move I make.
Technically, I don’t own the Sunrise. It’s held in trust which is managed by—no shock here—that same fucking board of directors. We don’t have outside investors, however, no stock, no bonds, no debt, and ownership of the Sunrise should pass into my hands when I turn forty according to the bylaws.
Unless the board decides to sell the place out from under me.
“If Tony gets elected to Congress, my life is going to get extremely difficult.” I watch Casey pay out on a good roll, her clients cheering. She’s smiling like she’s winning along with them, and that’s what I love about her. No matter how many years she works here, her joy is still infectious.
“He’s not going to win.” Will doesn’t sound sure. “There’s no way he can afford both a new hotel and a fucking campaign.”