I returned to The D to clean up the mess I’d made in the room. A friend was the housekeeping manager and I didn’t want a record of my destructive visit or anyone but me billed for it. The room was looking good as new and Petra wouldn’t be alerted to my freak out thanks to a c-note slipped to the housekeeping manager. In Vegas, in my line of work, it was good to know the housekeeping manager.

Just my luck, as I made my way out of The D through the tables, I spied Barchek. He’d gone from his comped room, right back to his natural habitat, poker.

It was three a.m. Nothing good happens at three a.m. Without planning it or analyzing it, I decided to wait in the shadows. I hovered in the dark, and at no point did a rational thought enter my mind.

Running across Donny Barchek was the best stroke of luck I’d ever had in Vegas. He got up from the table and I slid in next to him as he walked.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut and head to that door.”

 I dragged him to the stairwell. I knew the back of the place like the back of my hand.

I planted a good dozen bruises on Barchek. Some lower part of my brain operated on a level that said hurt Marilyn once get double back. That seemed fair to me. Through my rage, I heard Barchek.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“This is how it feels, dirtbag. You like it?”

He recognized me as her security. For that, I’d probably needed to add an extra bit of incentive so he would keep his mouth shut. At this point, Donny Barchek was leaning on the stairs with nowhere to escape. He was a gambling man and knew odds. The odds of him successfully defending himself against me were like being dealt a royal flush. Not going to happen.

“I paid for it,” He said between punches.

“Let’s put it like this. What you did was rent it. And while you rented, you damaged the merchandise. You get it? If it’s up to me, you don’t rent with us again. BUT, if somehow you do, you’ll remember not to leave any marks.”

“Fine. FINE.”  I let him slide down a few stairs to the floor and put my shoe at the base of his throat.

I kicked him once more. That one would keep his ribs sore for a while; it would be a reminder.

“I said I got it! What was that for?” Barchek’s breaths were shallow. A deep breath would cause a fair amount of pain.

“That was to make sure you don’t have the energy to complain.” With that, I left him in the stairwell and got out of there.

Driving now, thinking back, I figure that was the moment when I lost the ability to really stick to my rules. I’d just put the beat down on a client. Marilyn even said she didn’t think Barchek hurt her on purpose. I suppose he didn’t. I watched she was into it. These are all possibilities I can consider now, after the fact. Logic did not factor into my white-hot rage against the man in the stairwell.

The beating I gave Barchek did not get Marilyn out of my system but if someone hurt her and I could punish them, well, I was going to do it. This was a new fact of my cellular makeup. It was like yesterday I didn’t have this Marilyn gene, and today I did. I find out you hurt her, I hurt you.

It was one of the simplest components of my being, a brand new one that was hidden from me until yesterday. I found it surprising. Like if I sat down at a keyboard and discovered I could play the piano. Well, I’ll be damned. That’s some shit I didn’t know about myself. It was disconcerting, and honestly a detriment to my lifelong goals.

I’d opened a few cuts on my knuckles while punching Donny Barchek. That blood reminding me about those goals. In the space of 24 hours, I’d interfered with the client and touched the merchandise. What other parts of my essential makeup would she be responsible for upending? I wasn’t going to find out.

Money, retirement, ranch. That was the plan, and I’d need to get back to it before I beat the shit out of someone else.

But my protective streak meant I’d need to do one more thing for Marilyn and then get out of Vegas, get away from Petra. I needed distance from every aspect of this or I’d wind up in jail or worse, in love.

**

Petra didn’t like surprises. Me in her reception area at the crack of dawn was a surprise.

“Good morning, Abe. I wasn’t aware we had an appointment.” She was crisp and businesslike. Her secretary had been annoyed at my presence in the waiting area when she got there.

“You haven’t been to bed, it appears.” Petra, as usual, didn’t miss much.

“Not yet, no.”

“And I can see from your knuckles that you’ve been punching something or dragging them on the ground.”

“I am requesting an audience, my last one.” I didn’t feel like sparring with her. And well, let’s be honest, she’d win.

“Be quick. I have quite a busy schedule. Vera, can you please give us ten minutes?” Vera, Petra’s assistant, nodded and we walked into Petra’s office.

“So what’s this surprise visit all about?”

“Marilyn.”

“Of course, it is.” Petra was giving a stack of mail a once over. My problem was not going to be her problem.

“She is not like the other associates. I really don’t think you’ve chosen wisely with her. This life is going to crush her.”

“Life crushes all of us, Abe.” Petra looked up at me with that line.

“You know what I mean. The other women I’ve guarded were in charge of their fate. They were doing it for themselves. This one, this Marilyn is aptly named, let’s just say. She seems sort of trapped.”

“I have always liked you Abe, and am rather surprised.” Petra now put down her stack of mail to focus on the conversation.

“Surprised?”

“Marilyn was a stripper and happily took my offer for a more lucrative career. I picked her because clearly she looks and behaves exactly like what many men need her to look and act like. I am surprised that you too need her to act that way as well. Very surprised.”

“It’s not acting.”

“Not when you do it right,” Petra replied with a little laugh.

This was going nowhere. And I knew she was right. I was taken in by the same thing every dumb fucker since Adam had been duped by – a fabulous set of tits and the need to make sure no one else touched ‘em. When someone gets your number exactly, when they know what bullshit you’re telling yourself, it makes you hate them. I hated Petra right then. But I wasn’t done lying to myself. I forged ahead to save face more than to save Marilyn.

“Look, I’m telling you, she’s as innocent as she seems. And this job will ruin her. Make her a secretary or something.”

“Because with that face and figure, I’m sure she learned how to type.”

The phone rang. Petra’s secretary was on speaker.

 “Sorry to interrupt, but you told me you would take this call whenever.”

“Maldonado,” Petra questioned.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Put him through.” Petra put up one finger to me. I was to wait while she worked.

I stood up and walked to the window. Maldonado, that name was well known in Vegas lately. The Maldonado family had come out of nowhere and had big money. They had just completed a successful hostile takeover of the Diamond Casino, the precious gem of the strip as they called it.

The old man had three sons, and they had quickly become one of the most feared names in town, and the most powerful. They were old school. Everyone knew it was easy to hide a body just outside of Vegas, hundreds of miles of desert in all directions. Not for nothing did Bugsy Siegel pick this place. The Maldonado family was taking full advantage of the sandy real estate.

 Their rivals for lucrative properties were turning up dead or missing. They were scary-ass players. But I was not at all surprised Petra would take a call from them. She seemed to know every big name from politics to tech and now, it appeared, to the underworld. It made me want to get out more than ever. I knew these types. I’d seen their flunkies in the bars I’d bounced for and I’d even done personal protection for a few. This was not a road I wanted to be traveling.

I felt sad that I couldn’t do more for Marilyn but Petra, the bitch, was totally right. The more I fell for that sweet and vulnerable act the more I’d lose sight of my entire goddamn life plan.

I’d made my pitch for the girl. I’d beat the shit out of the man who’d bruised her. My conscious was clear. Well, on this score it was anyway.

“Mr. Barchek told you about her, did he?” My ears perked up again at Petra’s end of the Maldonado conversation.

 Fuck. They were talking about Marilyn, and as I’d figured, she was going to be booked. Fast.

I walked over to Petra and put my hand on her desk. She looked up and was clearly annoyed with me invading her space.

“She’s got some bruises. You’ll need to give her a week.” I said under my breath.

“How about next weekend? Yes, my man will get the details regarding the meeting. It is a pleasure doing business with you.” Petra hung up the phone.

“I didn’t realize she’d been hurt,” Petra’s heart accidently peeked through every once in a while.

“Yes, Barchek left a few marks.”

“Well, his purpose has been served, and we’ll just not return any of his calls.”

“He’s been punished.”

“I didn’t authorize you to do that.”

“No charge,” I said.

“So where were we? Oh yes, you were cashing in your 401K and joining AARP before that call came in. I’ll order you a gold watch and we can call this association of ours over. I am not pleased that you laid a hand on a client, and maybe you are right. It is time for you to leave.”

“You understand the Maldonados are dangerous to fuck with.”  She didn’t need me to say this, but it was clear she was going to offer up Marilyn to have an in with the Vegas power players. She had no qualms about sending Marilyn out again, and now that I saw the path, poker winning gambler to power player casino owner, I was pretty sure she’d created Marilyn for the Maldonado family. If a powerful man had a sexual fantasy, Petra knew what it was and how to get them to pay to make it come true.

“They have merely requested that Marilyn attend a party they’re throwing. She’ll be decoration, a party favor. They need much more proof of how perfect she is before they pay the fees I plan to charge for her. But since you’re retiring, it’s really none of your affair.”

Petra stood up and swung open a painting that was behind her desk. She kept her petty cash in the safe hidden by the picture. It was probably half a million bucks. She got out a stack of bills and started talking again.

“Actually, it’s the kind of job you suggested. She doesn’t have to do anything but stand there and look pretty. The Maldonados like to have the best at their events. I’ll assign Garrity to Marilyn and you can ride off into the sunset, Abe.” With that, she tossed my pay for the Marilyn job.

I gave her a stare and she matched it.

“That also includes what I think is a generous severance bonus. You’ll be able to buy your own cow with it, or whatever one does on a ranch. I hear alpacas are lucrative. But I don’t really know what one is.”

I didn’t have another card to play with her. Petra Vallin was the house. I was the sucker who got too attached to the showgirl and thought I could beat the odds. I grabbed the stack of bills. It had to be seventy-five grand at least, and three times the amount I normally got for one assignment. It was enough. She was trying to buy me out, and it worked. I turned and walked out.

It was time to cash in and get to my ranch. Rescuing Marilyn was not in my retirement plans. I told myself it was in my best interest to remember that, do as Petra said, and ride off into the sunset. I didn’t need to tangle with the Maldonados, nor did I want to continue to be on the wrong side of Petra Vallin. Both were hazardous to my health.