Chapter 4

The Prima casino was the wealthiest in Miami city, and Vince Montreal owned it. It was a vast and enormous building, sidelined by beautiful sculptures and brilliantly lit with amber, white, green, and red lights. The parking space, which was floodlit with white lamps, was crammed with cars and caravans lined up on different lanes separated by tall, palm trees with full fruits. Around seven-thirty p.m., Vince arrived at the prima.

Vince deftly tooled his car to the space meant for the casino executives and cut the engine. He got out of it and grimaced. It was one of those hot, dry, and airless night one sometimes gets in Miami beach, and Vince, feeling hot and sweaty in his grey suits and tie, longed for his air-conditioned office room as he walked towards the casino entrance. The doorman, immaculate in a light green and cream uniform, saluted him as he got to the gate. He gave the doorman a curt nod and strode into the gambling rooms. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he took in the whole scene.

The ceilings lights controlled by automatic switches were muted, allowing the glow of a thousand glowing gaming slots machines to fill the room. The roulette green-baize tables were all crowded and were littered with poker chips, playing cards, dices, and whisky glasses, while the slot gaming machines were occupied with eager youths, fat oily men in tropical beach t-shirts, the expression on their sweaty faces hard and stern as they pushed a button or pulled the lever of the gaming slot machines.

This was Vince's favorite hour when the casino began to come alive. His blue eyes surveyed the room, and his face brightened as his eyes rested on his clients. They were all drinking, laughing, and making small talks and his eyes caught the croupiers as they guided stacks of chips with their rakes to the waiting gamblers.

The barmen circled the dressed in colorful gold uniforms, servile flashing smile on their faces as they attended to the gamblers. They were the ones who make sure that the glasses of the clients were refilled at intervals, and none of the clients ever had to wait for drinks. Vince nodded at them as he made his way towards the elevator, which was to take him to his office.

He got there, and he smiled at the liftman who ran the elevator. The liftman was an older man in his sixties with an old leather face and warm grey eyes. He was wearing a white and black uniform of the casino and on his hands were white cotton gloves. On sighting Vince, he ducked his head, and one of his gloved fingers automatically went to the elevator button. He pressed the button and the elevator door opened with a whisper of sound.

"A pleasant evening, Mr. Montreal," he said, beaming with a smile.

"Evening, Jeff," Vince answered. "How are you?"

"I'm all rosy-cheeked, sir," Jeff replied humorously.

"That I can see," he replied. "Have you seen Canyon this evening?"

Jeff shook his head.

"Canyon always comes to this casino before me, right?" It was more of a fact than a question.

Jeff nodded emphatically. "Have never known him not to be, sir."

He regarded the older man's face for a moment, and he entered the elevator. The elevator whisked him to the top floor, and on getting there, it swished open. He stepped out of it and walked down a long corridor to a polished oak door marked Vince Montreal. He brought out a key, inserted it into the keyhole, turned the handle, and slid into the office. His office was magnificent and luxuriously furnished with two black plush lounge chairs, a thick Persian rug, an oversized air conditioner, a vast desk, and a floor-to-ceiling glass window that ran the whole length of the office. Vince had an uninterrupted view of all the activities going on in the gambling hall from his desk. The thing which most people who are looking at his office from the down floor did not realize was that the window glasses were two-way. Vince could see all the gambling activities as if the mirror were plain glass, whereas anyone looking at the front windows would not have imagined that they were trick ones.

Inside his office now, Vince leaned hard into his executive chair, a cigar gripped between his small white teeth and a laptop before him. He worked on his computer for some minutes, and when he was done, he closed the laptop and flicked down the switch on his intercom.

"Will someone bring me a meal?" He yelled into the little machine. "I'm damn starving."

A few minutes later, the office door opened, and a pretty, dark girl in red and white uniform, bearing a tray in hand, entered the office. Her name was Ava Lynn, and she was one of the girls who worked at the casino restaurant. One peculiar thing about Vince was that he made it his business to know all his workers' names, especially the females, and he regarded this girl with pleasure as she entered the room. The girl was excited to look at.

She had a beautiful thin face, liquid eyes, long-legged with honey-color hair, and there was a glowing smile on her face that evening, which was meant for her boss only. Though Vince was not a skirt- chaser ( he had a reason for being like that ) and was careful enough not to make passes at this young girls, this did not stop him from wondering how they would be on the bed, like beautiful, wild animals, he would think and grin to himself.

"Your order, sir," Ava Lynn said, her big liquid eyes staring hard at him as she sashayed over to the desk.

"Oh! Thanks, Ava," he replied huskily. He was aware of how she was looking at him, and obviously, he was very aware of his good looks, and it pleases him that it could affect this girl standing before him.

She settled the tray on his desk and arranged the plates neatly. The meal consisted of the Cuban Vaca Frita, the Spanish Ropa Vieja, and the Peruvian Aji de Gallina. Vince eyed the food and his mouth watered. He loved Miamian dishes.

"This looks delicious," he commented, looking at the young girl's face. "But not as delicious as you look, sweetie."

Ava's cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

"Enjoy your meal, sir," Ava said in a soft voice, and she ducked her head.

"With pleasure, pretty," he replied as he waved her away and winked at her well-trimmed backside before descending on the food. He enjoyed the food tremendously, and when he was through, he pushed the plates out and fixed himself a cold drink of Rum and Coke. He sipped the glass and did some thinking about the girls that worked in the casino. He loved beautiful women, and he had made a point of employing those who pleased his eyes.

These women were adequate, yet the only reason he never attempted to hit it off with any of them was for fear of sparking a scandal—Earth rocking scandal, which could affect his marriage. As long as he stayed married to Eva and still wanted to stay married to her, these beautiful chicks that work for him were strictly off-limit. In his turgid mind, he believed since he had never been caught cheating on Eva, then the public would see him as the perfect image of a loving and loyal husband.

Eva had been on his neck too long for a divorce, and if words got out that he was having an affair with any woman, the court might swing in her favor. But these girls who worked at the casino made him sometimes realize something's; Eva was not the only beautiful woman in Miami city, he could have any woman he so much desires, and he would love to start an affair with some of these women and yet, he couldn't face a scandal. Deep inside him, he knew he never loved Eva, and he had only got married to her when he did some findings of her and found out she was an heir to a large fortune.

A fortune that surpasses his imagination. Though she had told him about the future when they got married, he, on the other hand, had done his findings of her even before they got married. Divorce meant one thing; no fortune to share with Eva. In the beginning, he had to be careful enough to hide his greedy nature from her, and the only mistake which he had made was that he was too ambitious.

Few months after their marriage, he could not continue to conceal his eagerness to own her fortune. All his intentions became known to her, and Eva, being a sensitive woman, had noticed his greed, and to nail him, she had asked him for a divorce. This was why sometimes, when the thoughts of having it off with the girls working at the casino nagged his mind, the word divorce would resound in his head, and he would quickly check himself. He wasn't to know that someday, this firm line he had drawn between him and these girls would eventually be crossed by him.

He was about to lit a fresh cigarette when three raps sounded on his office door. He lifted his eyebrow. No one knocks like that except one man, Canyon.

"Get in, man!" Vince snapped from his seat as he fed his mouth a stick of cigarette and set light to it.

The door opened, and a man entered the office.

He was powerfully built, and he had the looks of a Hollywood movie gangster. He wore a black suit, a black slouch hat, a black shirt, and a black-tie, and knotted around his neck was a black silk scarf. His face was what accentuated his odd appearance. He had a brutal look with scars from past ferocious fights. His dark blue eyes glittered like wet stones, his thick black hair like a raven's wing; he had thin lips that can easily curve into a sadistic smile or a snarl, and a smashed nose which looked as if a boxer's punch had caved it in. His hands were sharp-knuckled, giant fists, and it looked as if they had been carved out of a hunk of mahogany. On his right knuckles was a set of dangerous-looking brass knuckles that glittered its lethality.

His name was Canyon Fox, and he was Vince's, right-hand man.

No one comes into Vince's office without going through him. He would be standing outside the office, his eyes cold and unfriendly, and in his guttural, stern voice, he would demand from you why you wanted to see the boss. If your explanation were good enough, he would nod his head, and you will enter. If not, then he would point with his thick gnarled finger to the elevator, which would take you back to the ground floor.

Only the girls working at the casino were exempted from this rigid scrutiny. Vince was soft on the girls, and so was Canyon.

"Hello, boss!" he said, his face cold and expressionless.

"Where were you, man?" Vince said quietly. He had a kind of fear for this man standing before him. He had heard that Canyon had gone under the knife times without number because of the fights he had with some local gangs in Chicago where he had lived before coming to look for means of a live hood in Miami city and when it comes to firearm, he was a quite a gunslinger. Though he was irritated by the fear he had, yet he knew he needed him. The Canyon was hard as nails, and he exuded a deadly fear required for the casino's smooth running. With him around, Vince knew nobody dares rob the casino or cause any trouble.

"I was checking out the wine cellar, sir," Canyon replied.

He narrowed his eyes at him.

"What for?"

"Loads of wine were brought in this night," Canyon replied stiffly. "I had to make sure everything was in place."

Vince moistened his lips with his tongue. This was what he respected about this man. He would make sure everything, even down to the poker chips, was checked and accounted for.

"Well, okay, I think I am satisfied with that."

Canyon said nothing. He only stared.

Vince did some thinking. "Anyone giving us a problem?"

"Yeah! I think there might be someone."

Vince sat forward in his chair.

"Someone I should be worried about?"

Canyon nodded.

"It's the chief of police. He's sweating it out at the roulette table."

"Good Lord! can't he just quit before he runs out of cash?"

"The fat cat can't quit." Canyon snarled. "After all, he knows any money spent would be on the house."

Vince nodded his head and brooded for some moment. The chief of police was one of his highly respected gamblers. The untouchables, that was the name he gave to the chief and his boys. Vince's annual payoff had been considerable, and the Chief Of Police had given him free license to run his casino, and he had made sure there was no trouble from his boys or any local gangs around Miami.

This was what made Prima casino to be one of the safest casinos in Miami city. But this generous gesture from the chief came with a price tag. The fat chief went to the casino to gamble as they want, and if he loses any money, it would be returned to him in freshly minted bills, and even at that, some little bonuses would be attached to it. This shady deal had been going on for months until one day when Vince had got tired of all things and told the fat chief he could not play ball anymore.

The chief had grinned at him, and then in an ominous tone, had threatened him that if he refuses to pay his dues, then the casino would be slammed shut overnight. That was the end of the discussion that day, and ever since then, Vince never had the gut to broach the topic again.

"Do you want me to do something about it?" Canyon said, breaking into his thoughts.

Vince dragged his mind back to reality.

"What do you mean by doing something about it?"

"The man has been there all night, drinking and playing. maybe I should knock him straight, kick his fat ass, or tell one of his men to take him outside."

Vince was so shock his eyes almost bulged out.

"Are you kidding me? You want to kick the ass of the chief of police?" he demanded frankly puzzled.

Canyon shrugged his shoulders.

"We can't just let them bled us dry. Greedy foxes will always come back for more, and you know that, boss."

Vince shook his head.

"I don't know about greedy foxes, but I know about protection. Can you even imagine how much protection the chief gives to us?"

"Their protection is shit!" Canyon growled. "We've got enough protection already. If you want more, I can rustle some boys up and complete our security outfit."

Vince stared at him as if he was crazy.

"You must be cracked. Have you been drinking?"

Canyon's eyes came alive with anger, and he looked offended.

"Why would you say that, boss?"

"Just answer the goddamn question."

"No, boss," he answered stiffly.

"Are you sure about that? Vince asked. "because…" but a hard knock on the office door made him break off. Both of them remained still; their eyes alighted with alarm.

Vince jerked his head and whispered.

"Who knows I am around?"

"Can't say, boss!" Canyon whispered back, and the knock sounded again.

"One of the girls, perhaps?"

"Girls who work here don't knock, boss," Canyon replied quietly. "They enter straight in."

"Then do something fast," he blustered "Don't just stand there like a constipated camel."

Canyon regarded his boss for a moment and nodded. Suddenly, a gun jumped into his hand. An ugly-looking, blunt-nosed .45 automatic. He moved towards the door, gun in hand. Vince, on the other hand, watched him, his eyes alive with curiosity.

"Who is it?" Canyon bawled at the door.

"It's me, goddamnit."

Canyon and his boss exchanged glances. The voice belonged to the chief of police. He lifted his eyebrow, and his boss nodded in return. He then shoved the gun into his hip pocket and opened the door. Chief of police Wilson walked in. He wore a tuxedo that seemed to swallow his small frame, and he looked around the room suspiciously.

"What the hell is going on here?" he said and regarded Vince's sweat shiny face "You look like a pregnant duck."

Vince wiped his sweaty face and grinned sheepishly while Canyon slinked to a corner of the room and leaned against the wall. His eyes were cold and very alert.

"Hello! Chief," Vince said, still grinning.

"How are you boys, holding up?" Wilson asked, "I don't know about you fellas, but for me, it's been a money-making evening."

"Not from what I heard, Chief," Vince replied, the smile on his face brittle now. "I heard you had it rough at the roulette table."

Wilson stared hard at him, then turn to look at Canyon, and then he nodded.

"Christ! A man can't even get away with a small lie around here."

Vince looked puzzled.

"What are you talking about?"

Wilson smiled slyly.

"I've forgotten about your goddamn watchdog," he said, giving Vince a knowing smile, "He must have ratted me out."

"I'm not a goddamn watchdog," Canyon growled in a low clipped voice.

Wilson turned on him sharply.

"What did you say, paddy?"

"Look, Chief," Vince said exasperatedly from his sit, "Just forget about Canyon, alright? he's been working all day, and his mind is kind of slow."

Wilson face twisted into a wide grin.

"That's why I like you, Mr. Montreal. Even if working all day, you still know who to talk trash to and who not."

"Suppose we get down to business?" Vince said. "Please sit."

Wilson shook his head. "I can say this while standing. I ain't going to take your time, paddy."

"Well, okay, go ahead," Vince replied.

Wilson drew in a long, slow breath.

"I'm a little short of money. I need some cash, Mr. Montreal, and I need it fast."

Vince and Canyon exchanged another glance. Maddox gave him an l- told-you- so-look before dragging his eyes away. Vince grimaced, his eyes staying on Maddox for a moment, then back to the chief.

"Cash? What cash?" he asked blandly.

Wilson grinned and but it only made his face look uglier than ever.

"Mr. Montreal, I lost a lot of money at the table this night. I just need some cash to oil my hand, that's all."

"Of course," Vince said, spreading his hands, "As always, we'll give you the money you've lost and also add some little cash."

Wilson's eyes were now like jet beads.

"Don't make an ass of yourself, Mr. Montreal. I told you I needed money, or do you want me to spell it out for you."

Finally, Vince understood what the fat chief was saying. The greedy man was demanding more money. After all, men like the chief; when they are ready to milk you, they will make sure you are milked dry.

"How much are we talking about here?" he mumbled.

Wilson's eyes were alive now.

"I lost twenty thousand dollars at the table, the bonus you give is ten dollars, so let's make everything sixty."

Vince's face turned to stone.

"You want me to give you sixty thousand dollars?" his voice was outraged.

"C'mon, Mr. Montreal, you've got it; why not flaunt it?"

Vince lost color, and he had to swallow his anger before he could speak.

"You've forgotten we run a business here," he seethed out.

Wilson narrowed his eyes at him.

"It seems you've forgotten the business I run for you, paddy. Please don't bite the hand that feeds you."

Vince stared hard at the chief. It almost sounded as if he was being blackmailed, correct that! This fatso was blackmailing him. He was boiling with fury. He hated to be pushed around. To be cheated on, especially when it comes to his money, yet the thought of messing with someone as powerful as the Chief of Police frightened him. Don't bite the hand that feeds you, he thought to himself; if you bite it, this fat frog will nail you. Beaten, he dragged his eyes to Canyon's cold face.

"Go to the vault and tell the girl in charge to give you an unmarked sixty thousand dollars bill, please."

Wilson smirked.

"Christ! Do you guys mark your bills?"

Vince did not answer him but only waved his hand to his right-hand man.

Canyon drew a long, slow breath and slumped away from the wall. He gave Vince a look of disgust before he walked out of the office. Twenty minutes later, he returned with a large manila envelope stuffed with minted dollar bills. He thrusts the envelope to the fleshy hands of Wilson, who grabbed it eagerly like a young girl who has been giving her first birthday present.

"I'll make it worth your while," Wilson said, beaming. "You won't regret this, Mr. Montreal," and he gave Canyon a Get-the-fuck- out-of-sight look and swaggered out of the office.

Canyon, a grim expression on his face, did the middle finger at the closed door and turned to Vince.

"Boss," he said. "Another good money has gone down the drain. I told you…" but he broke off when Vince silenced him with an impatient wave of his hand.

"Don't say, jack! Just get the hell out and let me think."

Canyon, his body boiling with rage, regarded his boss for a long moment and then nodded. Bloody coward, he thought as he opened the office door and banged it close behind him.

Vince hissed and sat back in his chair. Then he closed his eyes and thought about the girls working in the casino.