“Go on,” he said quietly. “Sit.”
I sat and made sure my posture was impeccable. My knees were together, and my hands were resting on top of them. “Your cousin, I mean Andrei, caught me after my shift. He said you wanted to see me for a private drink.”
“I do,” Mikhail replied. “But first, I want you to close your eyes.” And he stood to his full height. His sleeves were rolled up, and his forearms were inked and muscled. His hands rested on his waist, and he took a step forward, closing the space between us rapidly.
I leaned back in my seat and craned my head up so he could have the full run of my throat down to my cleavage. “Sounds a little kinky,” I teased, starting to feel more confident. He was just another man, after all, and for a hustler like me, he’d be a hell of a challenging mark. Business and pleasure, all rolled into one. I smiled to myself and took a deep breath, making my chest rise and fall invitingly. “But for you, why not?” I said. “Do your worst.” I winked and settled back into my seat, letting my eyes flutter closed. The last thing I saw was Mikhail’s face finally illuminated as he leaned forward in his chair, his light gray eyes staring at me like something he was about to claim for himself, and I couldn’t suppress a shiver.
I was ready for the feeling of a tie draping over my eyes, being gently but firmly tied around my head. I was even ready for the feel of hands in my hair, gently but firmly tugging my head backwards. I felt alive and ready for whatever was going to happen next.
I wasn’t ready for the sharp, thin edge that pressed dangerously soft against my neck. My lips opened to scream, but my racing brain processed the situation and strangled the sound in my throat so all that came out was a whimper. Blindfolded. Knife at my throat. Two powerful men who operated the casino, but also two connected men. Most of us had an idea of what was going on behind the scenes, but most of us didn’t care.
Now, I cared.
“Tell me,” Mikhail’s voice said from behind me, above me.
I don’t know if it was the sudden change of gear or the effectiveness of his implicit threat, but I folded like I had nothing but the high card left. “T-tell you what, M-Mr. Sokolov?”
He sounded impatient, and I suddenly stopped thinking of him as the King of the Jungle. Here and now, the man was a bull, fierce and ferocious, barely in command of the destruction he could bring down on me. It vibrated off of every word. “Tell me that you know why you’re sitting in this chair, with my knife against your throat.”
He pressed harder, and I felt the knife begin to pierce through the first layer of skin. Any harder, and he’d draw blood. My mind, ever the hustler, couldn’t stop running through my deck of plays, any plausible explanation, but I knew on an instinctive level that one wrong move could mean my death. From the feel of it, an incredibly nasty death.
I heard Mikhail make a low growling sound in his throat, like a hungry animal with sharp teeth deep in a cave, and I knew he was about to act on my silence. I found my voice and quickly got the words out, careful to manage the volume, especially if I couldn’t manage the tone. “I know what I did, I know what I did! I know, I know, and I’m so sorry, I know, I stole!” I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop; I’d confess everything if it saved my skin.
The knife pressed deeper, and I cried out as I felt the tip of the blade break my skin. My breathing grew faster as I felt a small trickle of blood roll down my throat. “I stole, I’m sorry, I took chips, I swapped chips, and I got too greedy!”
Mikhail growled directly into my ear, “Shut up. Shut your mouth now.”
I did as I was told, biting my tongue as I tried to get my breathing under control.
Andrei spoke from somewhere across the room. I heard the clinking of ice and bar glasses. “You were good. It’s a shame, really. But you people always get greedy, every time. Greed makes you sloppy. Sloppy enough to leave your hand a little too open on around thirty combined seconds of compiled footage.”
Mikhail’s breath hit my skin again, and I shivered. “Footage that would ruin your life in this city,” he growled. “You should be on your knees thanking my cousin for convincing me not to kill you.” He pressed his face closer to mine, and I could feel the hardened jaw under his soft, clean skin. “You should wake up every morning, every day, for the rest of your pathetic fucking life, and remember that you no longer have the luxury of stepping out of line a single inch.”
“I understand,” I said. His words made my blood run cold. Everything I had worked for, slaved and planned and struggled for, was falling apart. Mikhail Sokolov was taking all of it away; worse, if he got even the tiniest sense that I would be a problem, he’d take my life. “I understand,” I repeated. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”
When Andrei responded, he was much closer, behind my other ear. “Don’t mention it.”
Mikhail continued. “You’re going to disappear from this casino, and I’m never going to hear your name ever again. Am I?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “Never again, Mr. Sokolov.”
Andrei spoke. “This is what we like to call a mutually beneficial agreement. You live, you continue to operate out of my sight, and you keep your mouth shut about anything and everything you’ve seen in this casino. In return, we forget you ever existed, and you get to live for as long as we don’t suddenly remember you.”
Mikhail took over. “Andrei makes it sound pretty, but I don’t want you to have any doubt in your mind about the specifics. You’re banned from the Strip. You wanna work? Try downtown, or fuck off to a gas station in Reno for all I care. I won’t tolerate disloyalty. Do we understand each other, or do I have to waste money on a cleaning service?”
“I understand. I agree and understand,” I said desperately. “Please, you’ll forget all about me, you’ll never hear my name in this city again, not even for a reference, I swear.”
It fell silent for a long time. The knife slowly left my throat, and there was nothing but darkness and silence left.
I tentatively moved my hands and slid them up my body until I could untie my blindfold. I moved slowly and openly, hoping desperately that they knew I was willing to stop any second.
Nothing came. I removed the blindfold and saw that the Sokolovs were gone. Or at least I couldn’t see them. I shivered; would I ever be able to really relax in this city again, really believe they wouldn’t suddenly step into view? The room was still bathed in deep shadows at the other end, and I tried to peer into it.
“Leave,” came the simple but menacing command.
They didn’t have to tell me twice. I turned, fashioning my necktie around my throat to hide the bleeding, and walked out of the penthouse as quickly as I could. I didn’t dare look back.
I knew I was lucky to be alive. I told myself that during the long elevator ride down, staring into my own unusually pale face. But as I exited the casino and emerged into the desert night, I couldn’t stop the cold, steely fear in my belly from heating up into a coal of rage.