CASINO SHUFFLE Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mako.   The short fin Mako, caught by a member of Tribal Council during a shark fishing tournament, had been named Lizzy by staff members familiar with the infamously biting personality of the Executive Assistant to the Casino President, Liz Fiore.   Spectators watched the lazy swim of the silvery-blue shark as it circled the tank.   Many guests remarked that the predator seemed oblivious to the hundreds of bright saltwater fish dashing in and out of the coral like swirling confetti.   Antonio always felt that perhaps it was biding its time, but of course he knew Liz Fiore quite well.
    “Who’s in that limo?”
    Antonio kept pace without turning.   “Good evening Jonathon.   I’m on my way to take care of it.”
    Jonathon Michael, hotel manager, slipped sideways through a flock of bingo matrons in red-feathered hats.   “Reason I ask is that the State Police came to the desk and…”   He tripped, sliding away from Antonio’s peripheral vision.
    Antonio’s central vision was locked onto the glass doors of the porte-cochere.
    The hotel manager stumbled back into step.   “…they wanted to fine the limo driver for not cooperating.   I said no way.   I said wait for you.   Nice roses.”
    “Thank you Jonathon.   They’re tulips.”
    “Then the State Police said…”   He was stopped by a man holding a suitcase in each hand.
    “Where can I check my bags?”
    The hotel manager shuffled around the intruder.   “Right over there.   Bell desk.   See it?”
    “There?”
    “No – there.”
    The man jerked a bag sideways.   “That way?”
    “No THAT way.”
    “Over there?”
    The hotel manager snapped his fingers and shouted, “BELLHOP!   Over here!”   He forged onward.
    Antonio was five paces away from the glass doors.
    “Then they said to call a locksmith to pop the lock on the limo so they could open it and make the driver get out.   Know what I said?”
    “You said to wait for me.”   Antonio pushed on the glass door, allowing a female patron to enter.   He smiled at her, presented her with two slightly wilted tulips and welcomed her to the Native Sun casino.   He turned towards the hotel manager.   “Thank you Jonathon.   I appreciate your diligence.”
    “So who’s in the limo?   Is it Brandon ?”
    A new voice joined them.   “It’s Max Allen and he’s mine.”
    Antonio did not turn.   He took a calming breath.   “Good Evening, Damien.”
    Damien Valentine, casino host, stepped between the hotel manager and Antonio.   At five foot three, he was a plucked and streamlined version of the beefier, hairier stereotypical Italians with which he associated himself.   His pin-striped suit was crisp, silk tie glossy, Rolex polished to match his polished platinum pinky ring.   Antonio knew for a fact that both of these lavish accessories were unauthorized gifts from high rollers in exchange for favors within the casino.
    “Executive orders!”   Damien used this pinky to poke Antonio’s lapel.   “You’re under executive orders from Player Development to inform me when Max Allen is on property.   You know we’ve been trying to sign him up for the Player’s Club.”
    Antonio allotted ten more seconds to try and defuse the casino host.   “He was invited here to compete in the Million Dollar Texas Hold ‘Em Tournament, Mr. Valentine.   If he does not wish to be a member of the Player’s Club, that is his choice.   Since he is not a member, and does not wish to become a member in the foreseeable future, there is no reason for Player Development to be informed of his arrival.”
    “You know how I had to find out?   A limo supervisor talking about it in the cafeteria.   Fucking lunchroom gossip, is how I found out.”
    Antonio’s eyes narrowed.   “I won’t tolerate vulgar language in a public area.”
    “Won’t tolerate.”   Damien Valentine swiveled to the hotel manager and cuffed him on the shoulder.   “He won’t tolerate.”   He swiveled back.