Axel: Meeting in thirty minutes to discuss responsibilities.
Since the casino tables are light, Brasi launches his report. “There’s a gap in entertainment at Magie Noire due to a scheduling mishap. Cash is handling it with his manager, but would like to review options with you.”
He continues filling me in on our sex club, something about the erotic ballet packing up early, so I let his rundown drift to the background and respond to Axel.
Me: I think we’re good to go there, Papa Axe.
Axel: Really? Want to explain the latest workers’ comp we’ve been slapped with?
“For the week of the Fourth,” Brasi drones on as we sail toward the entertainment corridor, “staffing needs to be higher than usual because the reservations suggest we have several combative groups booked. Axel wants numbers for every area logged by the end of the week.”
Tucking away those tidbits from his information dump, I tend to my more pressing matter as we breeze by the theater, passing some of the performers. I toss a wink and a lopsided grin their way, and they giggle in return. That wasn’t the pressing matter. That’s a bonus.
Me: Not my area of expertise. If we’re transferring responsibilities, let me shout a big *not it* to boring shit.
Cash: Not it.
Jax: Not it.
Cash and Jax always come through with the chaos.
Ryker: WTF? It’s alarming that the three of you are business owners.
Me: Big bro didn’t say not it.
Cash: Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.
Jax: That’s a relief because I’ve got a line of Cuervo and salt in front of me, so a meeting now is really inconvenient.
See? Chaos and a dumpster fire.
Axel: You have an appointment at 3, Jax.
Jax: It’s a feelings appointment. Loading up on truth serum.
Completely used to me tuning in and out, the three men journeying on the walk-through with me tend to their business. Gentry takes notes on his tablet and shares muffled banter with some of the workers we pass. Bernard addresses all our highly exclusive clients with a gregarious greeting.
And Brasi studies my cognizance, pouncing when my attention span returns. “Lastly, you are on for master of ceremonies tomorrow night.”
“I’ll get with Cash about Magie Noire. Find out if staffing numbers for the holiday week need to be increased in entertainment areas or just security and medical. Let the prospective managers know. And you can take my spot as master of ceremonies.”
Brasi is introverted and hates to talk in front of people, which explains why he’s instantly ashen. “I don’t … I’m not really … who they’d be expecting, sir.”
“Nonsense.” I wave him off. “It’s a good stepping stone before I transfer you to entertainment. Cash wants you in the cabaret. You get to wear those glittery spandex shorts.”
His mouth pops open, brown eyes blinking. “The cabaret?”
“You told me when I hired you that you could handle anything.” Slipping into our vintage library, I head to the back area, behind a shelf, where a door is labeledLibrarian’s Office, No Admittance, making him sweat it out for another minute. “I’m just fucking with you, Brasi. But if you want me to talk to Cash—”
He swiftly throws his palm into the air. “No, sir. I’m good.”
Bernard and Gentry mask their amusement. Poorly.
I flip a light switch three times, and a click resounds. “Happy to hear it. Remind me about being master of ceremonies tomorrow, and once in a while, it’s okay to tell me to fuck off.”
“Noted, sir.” He leaves it at that, until he realizes I’m waiting. “Fuck off. Respectfully.”
“That’s a start.” I guide them into the small space, where I scan my thumbprint and lead them down to my playground.
