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)
Adler watches me patiently. My mouth moves, but no words come out. I’ve lost the ability to make sentences.
I am totally screwed.
Absolutely, positively, beyond screwed.
Yes, that’s not me stealing. Yes, it’s my brother that should be in trouble here.
But that’s not how the casinos work.
There’s a zero-tolerance policy for bullshit which extends to family members. If you’re causing trouble, if your people are causing trouble, if your first-grade teacher is causing trouble—then you will suffer for it.
And since it’s my brother, that’s even worse.
“I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking,” I say finally, the words rushing out in a geyser as I finally find the ability to form sentences. “Shane has always been the biggest idiot in the entire world and I would never, ever, ever condone stealing from the Sunrise. I’ve been a loyal employee and you’ve been really good to me, Mr. Costa, very accommodating, and this job is so important, it’s seriously everything to me and my family, and Shane knows that, and he must be going through something serious if he’s dumb enough to steal—”
As I ramble, Adler’s eyebrows raise higher, until he finally holds up a hand to silence me.
I click my jaw shut, breathing fast through my nose.
My life is over. And Shane is going to die.
Everyone knows the deal.
Yes, casinos call the police all the time. When a customer gets out of line, they get referred to the Atlantic City Police Department. The ACPD is happy to lock a drunk up for the night.
But if a local steps out of line and does something stupid, like stealing—
The ACPD doesn’t get that call.
No, different people show up, and that local disappears.
“Your brother stole from me.” Adler sounds calm and composed. “There was approximately $4,300 in that stack of chips. The cashier in that video was fired earlier, and I have my people out searching for my missing money. I suspect they’ll also find the man that took those chips as well. When we catch him, what should I do with him?”
I shake my head, bewildered. “I don’t know. I really don’t. Mr. Costa, please—”
“You know what happens to people that steal from me.” This isn’t a question. It’s a statement of fact.
I nod my head. “I know,” I say, feeling absolutely miserable. God, Shane, what did you do? He’s an idiot and a troublemaker, but he’s never done anything like this before.
“Let me ask you again. What should I do with your brother?”
“Send him to the police,” I whisper, staring down at the floor. “Please, Mr. Costa. Shane’s not a bad person, just misguided and an addict. Please send him to the police. Maybe jail will be good for him.”
It won’t. He’s been in jail before. Never helps.
“We’re past that point. If I’m soft on your brother, what message does that send to this town? He stole from me.”
“I understand,” I say, sinking into myself. My back is aching and my thighs burn. It’s not easy, standing this long, and I lean against the wall to take some of my weight.
Adler notices and pushes a chair over. “Sit down.”
I hesitate, not sure if he’s being nice or not, but it doesn’t matter. I sink into the seat and let out a sigh, rubbing my knee. “Shane doesn’t mean any harm,” I say. “I know you need to punish him, but does it have to be—I don’t know, permanent?”
Adler’s head tilts. “Not necessarily.”
A spark of something shoots through me. Not hope, exactly. But I see a little light where there was only dark. “There’s got to be another solution here.”
“I could fire you, burn down your family home, and beat your brother within an inch of his life. Does that work?”
I grimace. “Not really.”
Adler presses his hands together and leans forward, elbows on his knees. I glance at his forearms, unable to help myself. Even in my mourning and my terror, I can’t help but notice him. The man has a presence like he draws all the light and it shines back out from his skin.
“How about we make a deal instead?”
I sit back, not sure what to say. A deal? With me? I have nothing a man like Adler Costa could possibly want. I’m poor, I live with my parents at twenty-six, I’m disabled, and my brother’s a thieving jackass. There’s nothing in the world I could give Adler to make this right.
But I have no other options.
“What do you want?” I ask, feeling miserable.
“Come to my apartment tonight at ten,” he says turning back to the monitor. He rewinds the video and replays it, pausing perfectly on Shane’s face a second time, a third time, a fourth time. “The hotel attendant will unlock the elevator for you.”
I don’t know what to say. An invitation to his apartment? I check my watch—that’s four hours from now. “I, uh, okay, I can do that.”