Chapter 5

Greyson

When I opened up the garage door, the sunlight that spilled inside was nearly blinding. The day was perfect. The sun was hot, but not too hot, as it would be in the next few months. I was in my leather gear: a jacket and gloves. I was wearing dark denim jeans and my riding boots and was eager to ride to The Citrine. My suit was neatly rolled up in the bag slung over my back, and I hoped it wouldn’t wrinkle too much on the ride to work. I hadn’t taken my Ducati out on the road in nearly a month, and I had begun to miss the way the engine roared between my knees.

I tightened the chin strap of my helmet and swung one leg over the seat. I started the bike up, revved the engine like a spoiled child might—and was thankful to live in a remote area with no neighbors to hear me—and peeled out of the garage and down the winding driveway of my ten-acre property toward downtown Las Vegas.

The purr of the engine when I opened it up on the highway was music to my ears. Cars whistled by as I gently pulled the bike from side to side to weave around traffic that seemed to be standing still, despite the speed limit of ninety miles per hour. More than one person rolled down their window to shake their fist at me and yell profanities, but I was long gone before the words even left their lips, and they were specks in my mirrors.

The sun was hot on my back, and the wind pushed into my chest. I stayed hunkered down, the wind peeling off my shoulders. My stomach pressed to the gas tank as I opened up the throttle and really let her fly. The bike roared as I pulled away, clear of all the cars on the highway. I rode solo for a good few miles before catching up to any others. The straight stretch of asphalt was the best place to take her higher than the speedometer would go.

I kept my eyes peeled for cops and didn’t take my hand off the throttle until I was within a mile of the Strip. Then I wound down and took it at a more leisurely pace.

When I pulled into the roundabout entrance of The Citrine, one of the valets, a young woman I knew by the name of Tara, rushed forward to greet me. Usually, I would ride straight underground to the employee parking, but today was different, and I had hoped Tara would be working.

I got off the bike and took my helmet off. She stood before me, beaming with joy, as I took the keys from the ignition and slapped them into her open palm.

“Now,” I said sternly after pulling my helmet off. “Don’t do anything stupid, all right?”

Tara nodded as she clutched the keys to her chest. “I won’t, Mr. Kline. Don’t worry. I just want to ride to my dad’s house to show him. This is his favorite bike. He won’t believe it when he sees it in the driveway.”

“Keep her all day,” I said. “He can ride her if he has a license, too.”

“Really?” Tara asked, all doe-eyed and excited.

“Of course,” I said. “Now I gotta run. Be safe. Put this on.” I shrugged out of my jacket and helped her into it. It was definitely too big for her, but there was no way I was letting her ride around on asphalt without anything to protect her skin. Road rash wasn’t a good time, and I didn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

I had gone down on my bike before, when I was younger and stupid. I had made a maneuver I didn’t have the experience to execute, and the bike had gone out from under me. It crushed my leg as I slid down the road with it pinned on top of me. I now had the scars on my back to prove it, along with mangled scar tissue on my right knee from all the surgeries post-crash. It didn’t slow me down today, and it was as if the injury never happened, but the recovery had been brutal.

I left Tara behind after telling her nearly four more times to be careful. I listened to her squeal with excitement as she started the Ducati up. I had let her ride my bike before. She had one of her own, a little lime green Yamaha, and she worked on them herself. She was a mechanic in training, and it was her father who was teaching her. I knew they didn’t have the means to afford the more competitive sports bikes, so being able to give her a chance to feel the power of it for herself made my morning. Not only that, but she was a good employee, and I found recognizing my staff with more personal rewards was more satisfying than giving them a gift card.

When I made my way up the marble steps to the front door, I spotted Meek. He was standing with his arms crossed and was shaking his head at me. When I was close enough, he spoke. “You really had to show up on that thing today?”

“What? I can’t ride my motorcycle now? You take the fun out of everything, you know that?”

“Isn’t that kind of my job?” Meek asked.

“I guess. But what’s so bad about riding my bike to work? It’s a perfect day for it.”

“It makes you an easy target, Greyson.”

I rolled my eyes. This was not the first time Meek had said something like this to me. He was constantly worried about me putting myself in danger. He always jumped to conclusions and expected that the worst thing that could happen was exactly what would happen.

“I’m not the President, Meek. No one is going to try to take me out while I’m on my bike. This is real life, not an action movie.”

“You’re the owner of the highest grossing casino in Las Vegas. You need to start taking that more seriously.”

Meek opened the door for me. We stepped inside, and I considered his words. Perhaps he had a point. I tended to think of myself as the same guy I was before I was making millions. The rest of the world didn’t see me as that guy. They saw me as Mr. Kline. I knew there was danger in having my name, but it was easier to carry on like there wasn’t. So far, nothing bad had happened besides Meek’s ever-growing paranoia.

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and turned back to say something to my friend but realized Meek was still at the door. He was stone-still and looking the other way, back down to where the valets were. On the other side of the drive, beneath an oasis of palm trees and bright flowers, was a black SUV with tinted windows.

The SUV pulled away from the curb, and Meek did something with his hands that I couldn’t see behind the bulk of his body. When he turned back to me, his brow was furrowed. He met my eye and looked quickly away.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“Probably one of your many admirers. That’s what I meant. You don’t know who’s watching you, Greyson. You need to pay more attention. Be more cautious. Things could get dangerous for you if you don’t play it smart. This is just one of the repercussions of owning such a massive business in this city.”

I tried not to shrug. I knew Meek would be upset if I blew this off. I wasn’t concerned about the SUV. They could have been waiting for anyone. Despite my best efforts, sometimes seedy clientele ended up in The Citrine. So far, there hadn’t been any mishaps, but I wasn’t naive enough to think that some of the criminal element of Las Vegas hadn’t found my casino.

Meek and I made our way around the crystal fountains in the lobby and through the casino. Slot machines chimed, and card players chatted amongst themselves. We went through a service door and made for the security room: Meek’s favorite place to be. He liked to have eyes everywhere all at once. He was good at his job, and he took it seriously. That was for certain.

Meek and I relieved the security officer on duty, and he slipped away to take his coffee break. I ducked into the washroom to change into my suit and crammed my jeans and T-shirt into the bag. I hung it on the hook in the security room beside Meek’s jacket and then sat down beside him, crossing my ankles and stretching my back. I groaned as it cracked when I twisted from side to side.

“That’s disgusting,” Meek grumbled.

“So is the way you put four sugars in your coffee every morning, but I keep my opinions to myself,” I said, cracking my knuckles just to irk him.

Meek smiled with the corner of his mouth. “You’re nothing but a big, twenty-four seven headache, you know that, Greyson?”

I grinned.

Meek laughed, and we both goofed around for a bit before he told me he had to get back to watching the cameras. I had meetings to attend in an hour, but I wanted to stay a while longer to enjoy my friend’s company.

We talked about things that didn’t matter, only pausing when he thought he saw something of importance on the cameras. Every now and then, he did spot something, and he’d call to one of his security guys over the ear piece they all wore, and we would watch the team check out the situation to make sure everything was alright.

It was during one of these conversations between Meek and his guard, Dennis that I spotted her.

Her back was to one of the cameras, and she was in the lobby, presumably to check in. She was fourth or fifth in line and was accompanied by two other young women.

Her hair was raven-black and long enough to touch her lower back. It was thick and shiny, shiny enough that the security cameras caught the shimmer in it every time she turned her head.

She was wearing tight blue jeans that hugged her shape from hip to ankle, and a gray T-shirt and sneakers. The other two women she was with were dressed in vibrant colors and heels, but for some reason, she stood out more.

The cameras were too grainy to make out her features, but somehow, I knew she was beautiful.

“Greyson?” Meek called.

I looked over at him. He was wearing an expression that suggested this was not the first time he had called my name. “Sorry?” I asked.

“See something odd?” Meek asked.

“Oh.” I shook my head. “No. Everything is fine. I saw this girl.” My eyes flicked back to the monitors.

She was still there, chin tilted back as she admired the crystal fountain I had passed not even an hour earlier. I pointed her out to Meek.

“Yeah, she’s all right,” Meek said, clearly not all that interested,

“All right?” I asked incredulously.

Meek shrugged. “Go down and introduce yourself. Tell her who you are. I’m sure she’ll throw down right away.”

I scowled at my friend. I wasn’t looking to “throw down.” I also didn’t want to use my name to open certain doors for myself, especially where women were involved.

As I continued to watch her in the camera and they inched closer to the check-in counter, one thing became increasingly obvious: I needed to meet that girl.