Rouge: Act 2 – Scene 12

Kian

Vinnie shrieks and clutches his wrist with his uninjured hand, eyes wide on my makeshift wooden stake pinning him to the table.

While Vinnie was insisting on making an enemy of me, I snatched the silver-painted wooden roulette rake, snapped it over my knee, and drove it through his hand into the surface of the poker table. Its green felt quickly blooms crimson as blood pours from the bastard’s wound.

The family heads look on without pity. Instead, their expressions are filled with a mixture of contempt for Vinnie and a lust for bloodshed.

The rake’s carved silver filigree glints in the overhead light as it sticks straight up to the ceiling. The sharp, broken end is embedded so deeply into the table that it doesn’t move when I snatch Vinnie by his thinning black hair and hiss into his face.

“Try your pathetic sleight-of-hand tricks in my casino one more time and you’ll be out of the Garde before you can collect your chips. Talk about my wife again, and even the fish won’t feed off what’s left of you. Got it?”

He nods frantically, “Y-yes, sir.”

“Good. I knew we could come to an understanding. The Lucianos have always been a reasonable family.”

“There are a few idioti every generation it seems,” the Luciano mutters with a shake of his head at his cousin. “I apologize, McKennon friends. I’ll deal with him in-house.”

“See that you do.”

I wrench the splintered end of the rake out of the back of Vinnie’s hand with a twist, making him scream. Once it’s out, he faints and his head thumps onto the table. His high-pitched shrieks cut off abruptly, creating the eerie sensation that they still echo faintly in the air. No longer able to hold a snakelike grip, his blood-soaked “personal deck” spills from his sleeve, fanning out underneath his injured hand. The metallic stench of blood is tart in my nostrils but tastes like sweet revenge. I don’t revel in bloodshed, but I do enjoy a good comeuppance.

My father tsks. “The felt on these tables is impossible to really clean, you know.”

“Consider it a business expense.”

It’ll be worth it if it reminds everyone of the cost of crossing a McKennon.

I select the ace from my own hand on the table and flick it against my fingers. The Luciano seems uneasy as his eyes dart from the card to his cousin.

His voice is low when he speaks, “Kian… I’ll handle it. In-house.”

I assess the anger furrowing his brow and his tense fingers steepled on the poker table before granting him a slight nod. The Luciano’s shoulders relax a fraction, but it’s the only true sign of emotion he shows as I point the ace at the rest of the seated table.

“Gentlemen. Can I count on you to keep this meeting discreet until I’ve figured out O’Shea’s angle with Monroe?”

The chorus of agreement is all I need and I nod, taking that as my cue to go. Before I do, I place the ace back with the rest and flip my cards over to display the royal flush of diamonds. It’s an unbeatable hand, but I leave the pot, only taking two ten thousand dollar chips from it. They have the least amount of blood splatter, but I still wipe them on Vinnie’s god-awful tracksuit for good measure.

“Oh, and if your cousin comes back with you, Luciano, he wears a goddamn suit. This isn’t the fecking Sopranos.”

The Luciano crosses his arms and shakes his head at his unconscious capo. “He won’t be coming back. A cheat is no cousin of mine. But your secret is safe with us, I assure you.”

“Fair enough.” I straighten my charcoal-gray lapels and crimson tie before flipping one of the poker chips to the dealer.

She catches it easily and pockets it without any emotion. Red Room employees have already proven their loyalty to the McKennon name time and time again. I know she’ll keep quiet. Hell, I’m sure this isn’t even the worst secret she’s had to keep working as a McKennon loyal.

I give the men a mock two-finger salute off my forehead. “Until next time, gentlemen, I think I’ll bid you adieu. Keep my chips as an apology for ruining your game.”

I don’t need to remind them again to keep their mouths shut. They know McKennon loyalty only goes as far as theirs, and they fecking need us if anarchy ensues.

“Talk soon, son,” my father calls at my back as I turn. The others may not be able to hear it, but the pride and humor lifting his voice make me grin. “What can I say, gentlemen? The house always wins,” I hear him chuckle as I exit through the curtains.

Merek greets me with a wide smile. “Sounds like it was an eventful game.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” I glance around to see if anyone else could’ve heard Vinnie’s screams, but the high roller room is empty.

“Cleared everyone out as soon as I heard Vinnie talking shit.”

“Good man.” I pat him on the back and walk on, pulling my mobile out before I call over my shoulder. “Keep your mobile on, mate. Let me know if you hear any rumblings of begrudgery from a certain Italian.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Key?”

“Yeah?” I lift my head up from my screen and turn to see mirth in my mate’s smug face.

“If you want to get a woman to like you, you have to be likable first.”

“Feck right off, arsehole.” I roll my eyes and grin before turning back around.

“Sorry, Key. I don’t know Irish,” Merek laughs. “Sometimes you say ‘fuck,’ but sometimes you say this ‘feck’ word. How am I supposed to know what you mean?”

“Alright, then, fuck right off, asshole.” I flip him the bird and he chuckles at my back as I exit the high roller room.

The music fills the space again, reassuring me even more that Vinnie’s cries of pain were muffled by the blaring songs, the whirling notes of slot machines, and the Red Room’s thick, noise-dampening curtains.

Lorenzo, the bouncer with the wandering eye, watches a porter like a hawk as the unassuming man mops the floor ten feet away from him. The casino janitor is one I recognize and has been with my family for decades. As I pass Lorenzo, I jut my chin toward the man working hard to keep my casino presentable.

“He’s good.”

“Yes, sir,” Lorenzo replies to my back while I approach the porter.

“Mr. Logan, a word?”

“Oh, Mr. McKennon.” He stops mopping and stands aside to let me by. “Careful, it’s slippery.”

“Actually, you’re just the man I want to see. Are you in the Red Room today, Hugo?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect.” I toss him the extra chip I took from the table as payment. “I seem to have made a bit of a mess. Would you take care of it for me?”

“Of course, sir, I’ve seen my fair share of messes in the Red Room. I—” He blinks at the chip and his eyes widen. “Sir, this… this is ten thous—”

“A thank-you for all your years of hard work, loyalty, and discretion.”

I spin around and head through the convoluted maze of slot machines and tables before Hugo tries to insist the chip is too much money. He does it every time I tip him, regardless of the amount, but he deserves all that and more for cleaning up a crime scene. Like he said, it’s not the first time he’s done it, but it won’t be the last either. I need to make sure my employees can endure the shite I pull every now and then.

As I navigate the casino toward the elevator, I finally get to pull up my security app to check on my wee captive bride. Last time I saw her, she was pacing and talking to herself. She never stops moving, that one, and I love watching her like this, with no one else’s expectations curbing her energy. Being around her is the spark of fire I’ve craved in my life and I hope it never goes out.

Once the screen pulls up and the sight of my living room comes into full focus, my eyes narrow to see it better. When I take it all in, a mixture of shock, irritation, and pride springs up from my chest and escapes in a laugh.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, tine, what am I going to do with you?”

I press the button for the suite’s speakers at the bottom of the screen. As I lift the receiver to my lips, I adopt the low growl that seems to both set my wife off and turn her on.

“What the feck do you think you’re doing, Lacey McKennon?”