Session 11
"An entire casino orbiting around Mars." Spike leaned against the glass of the descending elevator, his eyes danced around at all the glittering lights strobing on the multiple floors. Poker, Black Jack, Roulette, Craps … it was like a buffet. He practically salivated. His index finger caught the thin black tie at his neck and tugged the knot loose, settling at his collar bone. The dark blue double-breasted jacket with the two offset clasps left a surprising amount of room for his gun to ride and remain accessible. Of course there was nothing to be done for his unruly hair.
Vicious clicked his tongue. "Mao, would you please explain to me the reason behind bringing a compulsive gambler to a casino."
"Tsh." Spike pried himself from the glass and rammed his hands in his pockets, his rolled back sleeves resting just below his elbows. "I am a habitual gambler, not compulsive. There is a difference."
Failing to hide the faint grin, Mao adjusted his suit jacket to cover the slight bulge of his concealed short blade. "I trust that your partner can handle this task like the professionals you both are. Do not forget that I requested both of you as my personal guards for a reason."
Vicious drummed his fingers on his katana hilt. "Yes, and I am still perplexed as to why you didn't bring your usual muscle."
Both Spike and Mao blinked at him. Spike cracked a grin. "You seriously haven't figured it out?" He grabbed Vicious by the shoulders and turned him toward the mirrored elevator door. "For just a moment forget how bad ass we are and just look at us. What do you see?"
Vicious lifted an eyebrow. "A monkey in a suit."
"Well, you look like you're going to a funeral."
"Just wait."
"I know you hate to be reminded, but generally speaking, society sees us as nothing more than lanky teenagers. So when we walk out there, what are they going to think about Mao?" Spike jabbed a thumb at Mao who smiled wickedly.
"They'll think he's vulnerable." Vicious straightened his tie. "Well now, that is clever. So all we have to do is keep up the pleasure tour visit impression until the fools behind that attempted shipment heist walk into the trap."
"The intel is good and has been verified." Mao folded his hands behind his back. "Let them get close to me. Let them believe that you two aren't up to the task. I intend to deal with this in private. I trust you will both know when to step in if I need it."
Lighting a cigarette, Spike half-lidded his eyes and slouched. "Time to roll the bones." The doors opened and Mao paraded out, flanked by his handpicked boys.
Stylish people tossing an astonishing amount of cash around crowded the tables. Spike's eyes drifted everywhere as he followed in Mao's wake. The ploy of looking distracted became no ploy at all. His old habits flooded back and he found himself counting cards even as they passed the Black Jack table. Of course it meant for nothing the second the dealer performed a blind deck swap. Cheating. How else could they insure the house won?
He broke into a cold sweat the deeper into the casino they wandered. If he got into trouble Mao would be down a guard. The only way he could avoid trouble was by confining his wayward hands deep in his pockets. He hustled to catch up to Mao and Vicious pressing through the crowd.
A skimpily clad waitress edged by holding her tray up, her lip set in a firm pout as she pushed a gambler's hand off her rump.
Spike winked at her. "I'd love a tequila sunrise by you."
"I'm not a bartender." She inclined her nose. "And if you meant something else by that, take it back before I lay you out on the deck."
He smugly met her gaze. "That's kinda the idea."
The waitress lifted the tray and was about to bring it down across his head when her determination wilted and she stepped back, bringing the tray tight in front of her. Quickly she scampered off.
"Mmm?" Spike turned and scratched his head. There in the distance he spied a group of unabashed goon muscle accompanying a lady in a feathery stole over a blue silk gown with an embroidered serpent. Her confidence screamed senior ranked syndicate, possibly even capo.
Mao paused and looked back over his shoulder. Noting Spike's gaze he followed it to the staircase. Out of the corner of Spike's eyes he caught the faintest nod from Mao. Their snake had arrived. The game had begun.
Seated at the table, Mao idly glanced at his phone. Over each shoulder stood his guards, the sullen Vicious to one side, and the lazy eyed Spike slouching at his other.
The waitress Spike had harassed earlier swept a large plate with a garnished lobster before Mao. "Anything else for you, Mao Yenrai?"
"Perhaps a fine wine to go with this. Whatever you would suggest. Bring the bottle." As she left, he dribbled the glaze over his meal.
Spike's eyes cracked open a bit wider, his growling stomach accompanying his whispered question, "Is that a Ganymede Rock Lobster?"
"Yes." Mao murmured. "You're not supposed to be watching my meal. Where is Lady Cersei?"
Hanging his head, Spike pretended to clean out his ear with a finger. The awkward gesture rewarded him with a glance through his hair of the target in the corner booth. "Same place with her sides of beef. Looks like she ordered an appetizer."
Denied a clear view, Vicious grunted. "Stop looking at her food."
"I wasn't talking about chicken wings. There's a guy in the booth with her and another set of goons."
Mao tucked a morsel of flaky lobster into his mouth and chewed before remarking. "Anyone we know?"
Spike snuck another glance. "Tall guy, about Ironwall's age, glasses. Scar on his cheek. Kinda looks like someone took a blow torch to him."
"Samson Dupree. Well now, looks like Cersei had a buyer for the shipment she tried to lift. Does he seem upset?"
"Heh. Well, not anymore." He elbowed Vicious. "I had no idea a couple can tango in a corner booth."
With a sigh, Vicious rolled his eyes.
Mao's eyebrow lifted. "Interesting."
"Recon?" Vicious drummed his fingers on his katana hilt.
"Stay. We'll tail them to their rooms unless another opportunity presents itself."
The waitress set down a bottle of white wine, her gaze flicked to the sultry pair and then back to Spike and Vicious. "Suite two-eighty-five, if you're after that asshole."
Spike blinked, but kept still otherwise. "Wow. The waitresses are tough here when you stiff their tip."
She balled up her fist in front of her, hidden from Samson. "He demanded a room service that we don't provide."
"Ooookay." He flashed her a flirtatious grin to move closer to her. "Any requests?"
Her face scrunched up. "Neuter him."
"I like your style, toots." Spike laughed, his eyes caught the slight wave of Mao's hand. "Hey Mao, thinkin' I might need to stretch my legs a bit. Coming, Vicious?"
"Maybe in a bit."
Meandering toward the staircase, Spike passed close by the table, one last glance to mark each of the company before he leisurely left the dining room. Suite two-eighty-five, eh?
Samson Dupree sauntered down the hallway followed by his two muscular thugs. "I don't have much time to get ready. By now Cersei will be putting the moves on the Red Dragon geezer."
One of his men pounded a fist into his palm, "Did you see his guards? Hah! Those twigs will break just looking at them. Can't wait to close this deal and grind some fresh burger." Each time he smacked his meaty palm, it popped.
"Patience." Samson waved his key card in front of the reader. "I'll let you play with the chew toys once the time is right. I'll be out in a minute."
The door shut. They took up their place outside.
A whistled jazz tune carried down the hallway. They looked up to see one of Mao's boys wandering their direction. Hands in his pockets, head bowed, slouched.
They grinned at one another.
See you, Space Cowboy
