He’s taunting me. I’m more intelligent than that, not some Neanderthal. I need to plan how I’m going to deal with the threats to Mira’s safety. Getting fired from the job that allows me to keep an eye on her will not help.
Pretty sure my mom would have a conniption if she knew I was working at Blue. She spent most of her adult life slaving away at the casinos to keep me and Cali in clothes. This is not where she expected us to land when she put us through college. Fortunately, I doubt Mira will keep working at this place after her run-in with Asshole this morning. The girl has a death wish, but she’s no dummy. Though I’d feel a hell of a lot better if I could see her and confirm it. I haven’t seen Mira all day while they’ve put me through the rest of my training for the position.
So far, my boss is steadily introducing me to just about everyone. For some reason, people find it fascinating that a biologist with a master’s degree would choose to work as a crap-dollar-an-hour security guard. Personally, I don’t see what the big deal is.
“This here’s the security depot, also known as security central.”
My boss, a fit, middle-aged guy with one of those handlebar mustaches, takes me inside a double door off the corporate offices. These are the only two doors in the entire corridor, with the exception of an emergency exit at the end of the hall.
I check out the cavernous space. Security central is right. It looks like the central brain of the CIA. Hundreds of television screens large and small show every inch of the casino, but not the executive floor. Apparently, few cameras reside up here, the majority being reserved for gaming, which is why I didn’t get fired for whaling on Asshole in the hallway this morning.
A dozen people man the security stations, communicating through microphones attached to headsets. The air in here is charged, as if the extra electrical equipment has thickened it with current. I was prescreened for everything under the sun when they hired me. They also gave me a long talk about the rules for the casino staff, but I’m given another lecture by my boss about confidentiality and gaming policies.
“So this is where we’ll work?” I ask.
My boss erupts in a loud hoot. “Oh, man. You’re a funny one. No, man, no. This place is for techies. You and I are strictly ground crew. Digging through the trenches.” He jabs me in the rib. “Come on. I’ll show you your territory.”
When they gave me the position of floor guard, I’d hoped they meant upstairs on one of the actual floors, but apparently the title stands for “casino floor.” We walk out of security central and my boss takes me on a circuitous route through stairwells and private doorways; I might actually need a map to find my way back.
The more I consider Mira, the more I worry this day won’t be her last at Blue. It would be just like her to keep the job despite the danger it poses. And if that’s the case, I need a backup plan.
“What did you think about what I said earlier?” I ask my boss. “Think they’d give me detail in the corporate offices?”
“Nah, man. Why would you want to be there? Gaming is where the action is. Or the suites.” He waggles his eyebrows. “A good prostitution bust is what you need to break you in.”
What the…? “Yeah, man, that sounds cool”—not—“but I heard there’s action among the execs.”
My boss glances over. For all the easygoing demeanor he projects, I get the feeling he’s pretty damn astute. “Be careful there, buddy. The corporates pay us. No good comes of talking smack.”
He opens the door to the casino floor. The sound of slot machines drowns out our footfalls on the carpet with buzzers, bells, and sirens.
“No, man—” Great, I’m here a few hours and I’m already starting to sound like this guy. I’m trying to blend, though. “That’s not what I mean. I heard there was a bit of a crackdown on people messing with the waitresses.”
My boss winks at one of the cocktail waitresses. His face hardens as he looks over knowingly. “Drake Peterson. Always hated that guy. Fucked with my girl, Kendra.”
“Ah, man, that’s low. So you know why I’m thinking there might be a need. I got my own girl at Blue. She works in corporate.” Total lie, but I’m willing to use any angle, and the girlfriend story looks like it could be a winner. “That’s where I heard the guy worked. It would be great to be around and know she’s okay.”
“I hear ya, I hear ya. But see here, they haven’t requested extra heat on the exec floor.”
Extra heat? What are we, special ops?
“I gotcha, but maybe we can be proactive. Ask if they could use the extra muscle.” Yup, I said extra muscle. I’m a security guard now.
My boss slaps me on the back. “Good one, Morgan. I’ll ring up the powers that be, and check it out. The more armed mass they request, the more my rank increases—you know, with all the subordinates working for me.”
I nod, attempting a meek expression. My boss likes his control, but he’s a good guy. “You know, I escorted a dude out this morning for Ms. Tate, the human resources director—you wouldn’t happen to know that guy’s name, would you?”
“Ronald something. Short-termer.” My boss nods to a group of bellboys a few feet away, who I’m assuming I’m about to be introduced to.
“Well anyway, Ms. Tate might be a good person to contact. She seems to appreciate what we do.”
“True that, man. True that. She’s new here, but she’s a good egg. I’ll check it out. In the meantime, let me introduce you to more people.”
With any luck, my boss will be successful and I’ll work closer to Mira. For protection, nothing else.
Chapter Eighteen
I arrive home expecting to see Mira, but even though her truck is in the driveway, the house appears dark and lifeless.
