Page 6 of Russian Roulette
Giovanni sits down in his chair, gripping the expensive desk with one hand while leaning back in his tall leather chair and fixing me with his dark eyes. “True, you’re not a street performer now, but you oncewere,” he emphasizes. “Don’t forget that. This isn’t up for debate. Your show is becoming riskier and more hazardous. Don’t think I’m not aware of the accidents during rehearsals. I have eyes and ears all over the Imperial. It’s my business to know what’s happening in my hotel.”
“What accidents? We haven’t had any reported accidents. Not even a slip-and-fall.”
He pulls up a video on his phone and turns it around for me to see. It’s a brief clip from a practice session where something went horribly wrong, and the chainsaw I was using slipped. Thankfully, a fake dummy was standing in for my real assistant. I accidentally sliced open the dummy’s throat, sending sawdust flying across the stage.
“No humans were harmed in the making of that video,” I say, maintaining a straight face.
“This isn’t funny business,” he replies coldly. “You could hurt or kill someone with your recklessness. Your stunts are becoming too dangerous for the show.”
“We were screwing around.” I protest, raising my hands in frustration. “That’s all. I would never intentionally put someone in harm’s way. I’m a professional. It wasn’t an accident. It was a joke.”
Itwasan accident, but I’m sure as hell not admitting it to him.
When the chainsaw slipped, it scared the shit out of me. I’ll never make the same mistake again. I’ve gone over the incident in my head a million times since then.
“I’m not arguing with you,” he says. “It’s bad enough if someone else gets hurt during your show. But if you get injured, the show ends right there. It’s over. I’m too heavily invested in you to let that happen. I’m only protecting my investment, which is you. Implement the changes.Immediately.I don’t want to hear another fucking word. End of discussion. Now sign the damn paper. I’m a busy man. You’re wasting my time.”
“What do you expect me to do now?” I ask. “The show is selling out every night. The tickets are in hot demand. Nobody wants to pay good money for the same old shows they’ve seen a thousand times before. What about the new show beginning on New Year’s Day? I’ve worked on it for months. I can’t throw all that time and effort away.”
Giovanni lays his hands flat on the desk. Throughout our time working together, I’ve never witnessed him come close to losing his temper.
Not once.
He’s always composed, cool-headed, and in full control of everything. If he were ever to lose his shit, he would be one scary bastard. I’ve heard countless tales of what he’s capable of, as well as his family’s history, back in Sicily.
“You’re aware of how this works,” he says calmly. “The tourists are only in town for a few days. They’ll love anything you put out there. If we say it’s a great show, they’ll believe it. We can promote your show as a family magic act. Give the families a place to bring their kids. In Vegas, those acts are few and far between. Substitute a few old traditional magic tricks for your blow-torch stunts. Pull rabbits out of your hat. Let someone in the front row pick a card. Bring a kid up on stage. Dazzle them with your sleight-of-hand skills. A few simple changes are all I’m asking for here.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He’s asking me to give up everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve. “A family act? Are you shitting me? You’re forcing me to change the entire show,” I argue. “If that’s what you want, why do you even need me? There are a hundred other guys who can do that kind of cheesy crap and do it well.”
He reaches over and places his monogrammed pen in front of me on the desk with a loud thump. “Exactly,” he says. “Thank you for pointing it out, so I wouldn’t have to. Put your initials beside each bullet point and get back to work. You’re easily replaceable. Everyone is in this town. Even you. Never forget that. There will always be ten people willing and able to take your place.”
“Fuck!” I grab the papers, hastily scribble my initials beside each point, then roughly slide them back across the table. He’s not giving me a choice. With time, I’ll figure something out. No way will I roll over and take this lying down.
“One other thing,” he says as I stand up. “How’s your dad doing these days? Someone told me he has a parole hearing coming up this month.”
My heart skips a beat. The way he phrases the question suggests he isn’t expecting an answer. I stop at his office door and slowly turn around. Is he threatening me by holding Dad over my head? If so, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s sunk that low.
“Why do you ask?”
“I just wanted to ask if there’s anything I can do for Saul,” he replies, not looking up from his paperwork. “Maybe put in a good word for him with the parole board. The prison he’s in can be rough on inmates. California gangs are brutal.”
“He’s fine,” I say, recognizing his offer to help is a threat in disguise. “Hopefully, he’ll be out before Christmas.”
“I hope so. Good luck with tonight’s show. Normally I’d tell you to ‘break a leg’ but in your case, I won’t give you any ideas.”
He picks up the receiver of his phone, dismissing me. I don’t linger. On the way out, I notice Marla’s desk is unoccupied for once. I push the button for the private elevator and stand there, fuming, while I wait.
“Fuck it,” I mutter under my breath after a moment. This isn’t over. I don’t care if he is the head of the Vegas mob. I will never go back to the street hustler I was before. No way. My dad and I sacrificed too much for me to get here. It can’t all be for nothing.
I turn back around, determined to give the asshole a piece of my mind, regardless of the consequences. Just as I approach his open doorway, I overhear him arguing with someone on the phone. Unable to resist the urge to eavesdrop, I stop short of the door.
“What do you mean you can’t find her?” he roars into the phone. “What do you think I pay you for? It will be a cold day in hell before I let any girl run a scam in my casinos. I want extra men watching the floor of the casinos twenty-four seven. If the Russians are searching for her, we need to find her first. And when you do, bring her straight to me. Understand? Tear this fucking town apart. Just bring her to me. I’ll deal with her myself. No one makes a fool of me. No one!” He slams the phone with such force that I’m shocked the handset doesn’t shatter.
The elevator doors suddenly chime, signaling their arrival. I dash to slide inside before the doors close, quickly deciding not to confront him today. I’ve been waiting forever for an opportunity to give me the upper hand with him. This could be my lucky day.
After all, they don’t call me ‘Lucky Seven’ for nothing.
From his conversation, I deduce he’s searching for a girl planning a scam in one of his casinos. I have a good hunch who that might be. More than a hunch. The intriguing woman seated at a slot machine downstairs.