Jenoff's
Feeling flush with his ill gotten gains, he picked out his most respectable adjacent shirt and headed out somewhere a bit more upmarket than the track. He had money - he should gamble it in some place with other people who had money, win bigger than he usually had the chance to.
He was going to Jenoff's, well - now he had the money for the cover charge, he'd actually be allowed inside this time. Kizzie had warned him repeatedly not to go - Jenoff was trouble on a level that made Darin McNamara look like Mickey Mouse - but he'd paid off his debts and had lots left over. He'd robbed a bank and got away with it. When high stakes played off, it was worth it. He had a taste for the adrenaline rush, and the big bucks - so he was going to Jenoff's no matter how many people warned against it.
Although the casino was on a patch of waste ground, when he paid the doorman and went inside he found that this place was a far cry from the smoky, dingy demon bars he usually frequented, with their sticky floors and the stench of desperation. This place was huge, and had a bright, crystal chandelier hanging overhead. There was table after table of poker games and crap shoots and roulette wheels - and the green baize was well kept; no scuff marks or worn patches. The carpet was thick under foot, and the booths which dotted the room were upholstered in rich leather. Even the smoke was rich - coming from fine cigars instead of cheap roll ups. This place stank of money - and Doyle wanted to get his hands on some of it.
He stood still, staring around - feeling the money burning a hole in his pocket and wondering where to put it first. The tables were all swamped with clients - and he noticed the only humans in the room, besides himself, were the croupiers. He wondered how come they came to work in a place like this, what they thought of the monsters that surrounded them. Or maybe they were like him, he thought, half monster themselves - but able to pass.
'You're new around here,' a London accent hissed into his ear. He turned to look - a large , green demon wearing a pair of small sunglasses, even though they were indoors and it was nighttime, was leering at him. The demon had protruding rubbery spikes all along his head and back. He was smiling, but he didn't look friendly.
'I - uh - never had the cash to get inside before,' Doyle told him.
'What changed?'
'I robbed a bank.'
The demon chuckled - though again, it wasn't friendly. 'Well you just make sure you keep those thieving ways of yours to yourself, here. Mr. Jenoff - he don't take too kindly to those that try to cheat him.' He pointed up to the next level, where a grey skinned demon in a tux was talking to a human - who was held in place by two demon heavies. The English demon's grin grew wider, more evil: 'he sends me out to collect from those who owe him … and then he lets me have the bodies afterwards.'
'What?'
'Just you watch.'
Up on the balcony, the human began to struggle and protest - but he was held in place too firmly. The demon in the tux - Jenoff - raised two fingers and crooked them, holding them right in front of the man's eyes. The man began to scream. And then Jenoff plunged his fingers right into the man's eyes, there was a bright light, shining out of the man - which transferred across to Jenoff and then faded. The demon heavies let go of the man and his eyeless corpse fell to the ground.
'See what I mean?' the English demon said, 'now you don't want to be getting on the wrong side of Mr. Jenoff - so be careful how you go otherwise…' He flashed another smile, 'it could be you up there,' he nodded at the lifeless body. 'They always taste so good when Mr. Jenoff has done with them - excuse me,' and he nodded and left, heading towards the balcony and the body.
Doyle shuddered and turned away. Maybe Kizzie was right. Maybe he should just walk away from here right now and not come back. All he would have lost was the fee to get in the door. If he stuck around, then he stood to lose so much more.
He made up his mind and turned back for the door - thinking he wanted to get as far away from this place as possible. But, as he walked past the poker table, the human acting as the dealer called out, 'OK - new game - who's in? Playing for big money this time, people, pull up a chair if you're playing' … and Doyle came to a stop. He stood there hesitating, looking between the door and the poker table - trying to come to a decision.
