Chapter One

Vegas.

James had been here before, he'd even gotten married a few times, but this particular trip looked like it would be the most interesting. Usually he knew everything about the person he was planning to swindle, whether they be an unsuspecting affluent socialite, or a daft millionaire who earned their wealth by investing in some stock market protege or other. He would spend days, even weeks, researching his… "client," as he liked to call it. He would study their history, their mannerisms, their romantic interests, where they liked to spent their free time, where they paid business calls - the works. Then, he would swoop in and steal their hearts, and all of their life savings.

However, this was different. All he knew about this fool was his name, how he got his money, and why he was in Vegas - and that's what made it exciting. He had always liked a challenge, and he was confident that he would be the victor in this competition. He wasn't particularly one to brag - well, not much - but he held an outstanding record when it came to pulling the perfect con. He had four divorce decrees and millions of dollars to show for it. His name was the first listed on the lease of their mansion in Beverly Hills. He knew he was the best.

"Hey. James. Wake up."

Logan's impatient call jolted James out of his thoughts, and he glared at the raven-haired man who sat next to him. He, Logan, and Kendall were sitting at a crowded bar, perched on high bar stools with red, velvety seats. Every stool along the length of the bar was taken, some by businessmen in Armani suits - one of which James owned from Barney's in Los Angeles. He had never really liked Armani suits, the fabric was too stiff for his liking, but he did like the attention it brought to him when he would attend award shows, dinners, and high profile parties in the city. His eyes barely paused as he glanced over a few women who hung over the men in suits, obviously trying to get a few free drinks out of them. He noticed a man at the end of the bar, dressed like a father on vacation, had already downed his third shot of God-knows-what.

They were at the Rosemary Casino-Resort in Las Vegas, one of the highest end in the city. It stood on the very center of the strip, surrounded by concert halls and competing casinos the massive building was a world renowned fountain that had three hundred different settings, changed colors, and was sequenced to music that played day and night. The main floor of the resort houses it's most popular attraction - an amphitheater that sat over 5,000 people and played several award winning shows year-round. Celebrities and talents from all over the world performed there, and people paid thousands of dollars just for a seat to be able to watch.

The casino itself was 73 stories high, and from the forty-sixth floor and up were the hotel suites. The suites ranged from single bed rooms to completely decked out, apartment-style rooms fit with a full service kitchen, a living room, a balcony, and several bedrooms. The 73rd floor was a five-star restaurant that overlooked the city, with an open bar and dance floor. The rest of the floors were taken up by the slot-machines and gambling games, restaurants, and retail outlets.

The bar where they sat was in the corner of the main casino, near rows and rows of slot machines. From where James sat he could see every inch of the hall, the doors that lead from the lobby into the casino, the desperate players who sat among the mass of slot machines, and the hundreds of gaming tables swarmed with house employees and hopeful gamblers.

The carpet matched the red on the seat of their bar stools, and clashed with the bowling alley carpet lined underneath the slot machines. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceilings and flashing lights pointed to gaming tables, labeling each with 'CRAPS,' 'BLACKJACK,' 'BACCARAT,' and so on. Near the bar was a few poker tables, surrounded by a cloud of smoke that came from the players smoking cigars. James had never really fancied cigars, but the aesthetic of the setting around him got him all the more excited.

He was surrounded by people from all corners of the world who were here for one reason - to make money. Although his gamble didn't involve dice or cards, he felt just as hopeful as the atmosphere around him.

He scanned the hall for a moment longer before turning back to the bar. A drink stood on top of a square napkin, barely half full. Ice bumped against the glass as he picked it up and took a sip. The bitter liquid made him shudder involuntarily, and he place the glass back down. The bartender, a freckle faced man with short, red hair, sauntered to their end of the bar. He held a glass similar to James', cleaning the inside with a dish rag. He eyed Logan and Kendall carefully, but lit up when his gaze fell on James. "Hey, Jimmy! What are you doing back in the city? Looking for another sucker to swindle into marriage?"

James sighed, downing his drink before he answered, ignoring a snicker from Kendall at the bartender's nickname for him. "Yes, actually, and you might be able to help, Max."

Max chuckled and leaned against the countertop, placing the glass and his hand down. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he spoke, "Who is it this time? Desperate debutant from a rich family? Unsuspecting foreign prince?"

"Carlos Garcia." Kendall answered before James could reply. The brunette shot him a scathing look, but Max looked interested.

"That kid who just inherited P.E.S?" He asked, "He's here now, isn't he? For his dad's funeral. A friend of mine who works upstairs said he heard he was staying here at the Rosemary."

"We'd assumed that much." James muttered, cutting off Logan before he could butt in like Kendall, "We've been waiting for him all night. A friend of ours gave us a lead hinting that he was staying here. Have you seen him?"

Max shrugged, standing up straight and wiping the counter with the cloth in his hand, clearly thinking. "I might have."

James rolled his eyes. He knew this game - there would be a price to pay for information. He knew from experience that people would only give information if there was something in it for them. Max was an old friend, but his intelligence didn't come cheap. "How much?"

"Show me what you got."

Exchanging a glance with his friends, James pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Filling it open, he reached for a fifty dollar bill and placed it on the counter, next to his glass. "Will this be enough?"

Max rubbed his chin, eyeing the bill carefully. "I don't know..… he's a pretty high profile guy."

Kendall snorted and slapped another fifty on top of James' and Max nodded. "I've seen him around. He's been staying in one of the suites near the penthouse. Usually comes down to the bar around ten o'clock every night. Sometimes he'll get a wild hair and bet on some tables, but doesn't seem to care much. Must be still upset about his dad dyin'."

James checked his watch. 9:57. Just in time. "He'll be here soon then."

"That's our cue to leave," Kendall said, standing up from his stool, "Remember, you're the one getting all the information. Find out how long he's staying here, and where he plans to go afterward."

"I think I know what I'm doing." James snapped. The other two both grabbed their drinks and walked away, throwing glances at him over their shoulders as they disappeared among the slot machines. They'd come up with a plan just before arriving. It was James' job to get all the information they needed. Even though they were competing, they knew that one of them had to get it. Luckily, James had drawn the short straw. Good thing too. He couldn't begin to imagine the trainwreck it would be of having the other two try to do reconnaissance. No, this was right up his alley. The plan was to find Carlos, pose as a complete stranger, and get him to talk. It wasn't hard, really - it just took patience and, of course, charm.

"Why are they here anyway?" Max asked, interrupting his thoughts, "I always thought of you as a lone wolf. Not the type of bring others into your tricks."

James gave him a long look before respond, "We made a bet. They think they're better at the job than I am."

"Are they kidding? You've swindled more fools than I can count." Max chuckled, "It's always a good laugh to see their faces after they realize they've been duped. So, what's the bet?"

"Whoever can get a million out of him first, wins."

"Wins what?"

"Er… satisfaction?"

"That it?"

"What do you mean?" James gave him a confused look. In every con there was always one goal: money. However, this wasn't about the money, really. It was about proving who the leading con-man was.

"Well, there's so much more you could bet for." Max explained, tossing the rag over his shoulder. He looked around before leaning against the counter, beckoning James closer. "'Satisfaction' just can't be enough. You have to have something to really play for. To show them who the best really is, and make they they remember it when this is all over."

"Go on."

"Well, what is something all three of you would fight for?"

James cocked his head to the side, looking thoughtful. Their multimillion-dollar mansion was a prized possession for all three of them, but also a good achievement. It would only be fair for the winner to keep it, so the other two would have to find a new place, knowing they'd lost to the better man.. "You could be right."

"Don't think about it too much now," Max whispered, "Your target just walked in."

James spun around in his chair, almost toppling over. Catching his balance, he looked over in time to see Carlos Garcia walk from the lobby into the hall. He was alone, but he had a certain kind of apparatus about him. He weaved around the slot machines, stopping to speak to people here and there with a generic smile and small talk, eventually making his way to the bar. He sat at the end opposite James, barely noticing the people around him. Max winked at James before padding over to Carlos and asking what he wanted to drink.

James watched him for a while, making note of how lonely and sad he looked - exactly what he would expect from someone who just lost their father, especially when they were so obviously close. Carlos ordered two drinks, which James was too far away to hear the name of, and downed them quickly. His gaze kept travelling across the room, eyeing the gambling tables with interest. James remembered Max saying that he'd gambled a bit, and it seemed that he was starting to gain interest in it. James knew the appeal to it, but his gamble wasn't confined to a table.

He waited for a few moments after Carlos left the bar before following him. He weaved through a crowd of half drunk, half desperate people, all betting their life savings, before he spotted the boy at a Craps table. Sauntering over to the table, he stood between a woman in a leather jacket and a red faced man who looked as if he had lost badly.

Carlos was taking chips from the boxman and scanning the table. James watched carefully as he placed a few chips on several numbers, looking nervous. James edged around the table toward him until he stood directly beside him, watching as he removed a chip from one of his bets.

"First time gambling?" James asked with a tremor of humor in his voice.

Carlos looked up at him, a worried look in his eyes, "Can you tell?"

James laughed, taking his own chips from the boxman and stacking them on the edge of the table. "It's all about confidence," He explained as he placed a bet in the same box as Carlos', except much higher, "If you doubt yourself, you're more likely to lose."

Carlos narrowed his eyes but said nothing as the woman in leather threw the dice. The two dice hit the side of the table and landed right in front of James. With a knowing smile he glanced over at Carlos, who was looking at the dice with wide eyes. He'd won.

"See?" James grabbed the tokens and placed them between the two of them. He handed Carlos' tokens back and leaned against the table, watching as the other people placed their bets. "You can't be scared of losing."

"What makes you so sure that you'll win?" Carlos asked suspiciously.

"Look," James nodded towards the red-faced man, who was betting high on his side of the table. "He's furious. I'd bet all my tokens that he's lost big today. That makes him more likely to bid recklessly." Switching his gaze over to the woman in leather he added, "She's losing her confidence. Probably isn't used to gambling much. She won her first few rounds, but has started losing as she's bet higher. She thinks if she bets smaller, her chances of winning will be higher - but she's wrong. Craps is a game of chance. Luck."

"There's no such thing as luck." Carlos said.

"Is there?" James took his stack of tokens and placed them on the table. He heard Carlos hold his breath as a man to their right threw the dice. They hit the wall and landed on the other side. James had to squint to read them, but he knew by Carlos' gasp that'd he'd won again. Taking his tokens back, he turned away from the table and looked directly at Carlos. "I think there is such a thing as luck."

Carlos narrowed his eyes playfully, "If you're so lucky, why don't you keep playing?"

James stepped away, shuffling the tokens in his hand, and Carlos followed. "Oh, but luck runs out. It exists, but not for long."

Carlos looked confused for a minute, but glanced back at the table, where the man with the red face was shouting. "I guess some are luckier than others."

James laughed and walked over to a nearby table. He didn't care to play, but instead leaning his back against the edge. Carlos followed him, facing James and shuffling his own tokens. "So, what are you doing in Vegas?" James asked nonchalantly.

"Funeral. My dad." Carlos muttered, breaking eye contact to look at his shoes, which he scuffled against the red carpeted floor.

"I'm sorry to hear that." James answered sympathetically, "Hell of a place to be laid to rest, though."

"Yeah. He loved it here." Carlos looked around the casino, his eyes unfocused, as if trying to imagine his father here now. "Not gambling so much, but the life of the city. He loved the never ending shows, the fun, the thrill. Not to mention the scenery." Shaking his head, he looked back at James, changing the subject, "What about you?"

"I like the thrill of it." James answered, "I like to test my luck."

"Do you?" Carlos asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"I do." James smirked, "Where are you from?"

"Minnesota. Well, that's where I used to be from." Carlos began, "Now that dad's gone I've got to step up and run his business."

"Business?"

"You don't know? My dad was the CEO of Platinum Edition Studios." Carlos explained.

"Really? No kidding." James acted surprised, even dropping a few tokens to show his shock. He'd already rehearsed this in his mind in case Carlos brought up who he really was. James wouldn't have put it past him not to mention it at all, but he wanted to be safe.

"Yeah, I'm surprised you haven't heard about it." Carlos looked away bitterly, "Everyone I've spoken to has been pestering me about it. What do I plan to change, who or what I'll produce next. It gets a bit old."

James nodded, and Carlos continued, "I'm going to have to relocate to Los Angeles. That's where most of dad's work was done. He traveled there almost every week for business. I kinda wish I'd had more time to learn from him before he passed on the company to me. It's exciting, though. I've always been interested in the industry, and dad would always keep me updated on what the company was doing. He even took me on a few jobs with him - so I'm not completely in the dark."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." James replied, putting his hand on Carlos'. "It's a tough business, but you seem tough as well."

Carlos seemed to relax at that, and didn't move his hand away. He sighed and glanced around before asking, "Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles."

"You'll have to visit me, then." Carlos responded playfully. James laughed and stepped away from the table, gathering his tokens in his hands. "I'm going to get you a drink." He called over his shoulder as he headed towards the bar.

Carlos nodded, smiling to himself, and turned towards the table, watching the game that was playing. James headed in the direction of the bar until he was sure Carlos wasn't watching, and slipped away through the crowd. He squeezed through what seemed like a hundred people before he heard the jingling of the slot machines. He finally found a break in the crowd and glanced down the lines of the machines. It didn't take long for him to locate his two friends, who were perched in front of a lotto a few rows down.

Weaving through the rows, James padded up to them and cleared his throat. Logan was the first to glance away from the machine and lit up when he saw James. "Did you get what we need?" He asked.

James nodded and took a seat at the slot machine next to theirs. "I've got enough, and a new idea."

He quickly explained everything that Carlos had told him, excluding the flirting and his offer to get him a drink. There was no need for him to give them any leads on his plan. Kendall and Logan listened intently as he told them that Carlos was planning to move to Los Angeles, exchanging an excited glance when James confirmed that he was planning to keep running the business. It was a concern of all of theirs that Carlos may plan to sell the company, but clearly he'd already decided to keep it running in his father's memory.

"So he'll be raking in more dough." Kendall said when James finished, more to himself than the other two. Then he looked up at James, furrowing his eyebrows quizzically, "What's the new idea?"

"I was talking to Max when you two left, and he came up with an interesting proposition." James began, "It's not enough to just win the satisfaction. There has to be a prize."

"What, the money isn't enough of a prize?" Logan asked suspiciously.

"The money isn't the point of this competition. It's who is the best con-man." James explained, "We need a prize that will show who is the best."

"And what 'prize' do you have in mind, James?" Kendall asked.

"The house. Whoever wins gets to keep the house."

Kendall and Logan were silent for a moment, staring at James as if he were insane. The blonde opened his mouth for a retort, but quickly shut it as he pondered the idea.

"Not only the house, but the winner gets to keep the city." James added. He'd thought over this offer in his head after he'd left Carlos. He knew that if he worded it just right, he'd be able to reel his friends in.

"The city?" Logan echoed.

"LA is one of the best cities for con-artists in the world. There are tons of rich bimbos all over the place - and new ones coming in all the time. The winner gets to stay in LA, while the other two have to find a new place to swindle."

The two boys' eyes widened, and Kendall was the first to respond, "Are you crazy? Give up LA - full of rich idiots and easy targets? For a bet?"

"Are you scared?" James challenged, not missing the uneasy glint in Logan's eyes.

Kendall and Logan glanced at each other, their shocked expressions slowly changing to ones of determination. The bet had quickly gotten a lot more interesting. The winner, the best con-man, wouldn't easily be forgotten. This prize made it all the more reason to win this competition. None of them wanted to give up their mansion, or the city - but they didn't want to give up the competition either.

"I still think you're crazy, but I'll do it." Kendall agreed finally.

"Me too." Logan added.

"Then it's decided. Winner gets to keep the city, the money, and the house."

With that, James stood up, abandoning his slot machine. He handed his tokens to Logan, who was closest, and winked, before turning away. "I'd love to stay and chat but I have a drink to get." He said as he walked away in the direction of the bar.

Kendall rolled his eyes as James walked away. "He loves to act like he's in a movie." He commented, turning to his slot machine and pulling the lever. "I don't know about you, but I feel lucky."