Surrender To Me

Sal takes this opportunity to make his way to Dante. It is clear in the deferential way he stoops down to whisper in his ear that he recognized Dante’s power, not just as an employee, but so much more. As he speaks, Dante’s gaze shoots directly at me, his face changing, the poker mask falling to reveal anger and revulsion. The longer he stares at me, the more constricting the room feels. As if the walls were closing in, removing everyone in it until it was just a small space with me and Dante. Dante nods once, says something back to Sal, and when his eyes are on me again, his mask is back in place.

As Sal is leaving, a malicious smirk flashes across his face. Before I can parse its meaning, Dante stands up and says, “Gentlemen, I think it’s time I cash out.”

“Oh, come on,” Nate raised his hands. His words slur as he speaks. “What happened to the plans?”

“Business that could not be put off came up.” “And the sex, drugs, and partying all night?”

“You can have that without me. Jesse can show you where to get all of that. Sorry.”

“What about the game,” Hunter says. He seems more put off than the others.

“Are you that eager to give me more of your money?”

Hunter sulks. “Fine. I’ll hang out with these losers.” As soon as he says the words, a group of women, bottle girls, enter. They have with them sparkling champagne bottles and a mood to party. The other guys get the complaints as they are led out by the girls, with Jesse in tow.

Meanwhile, I collect Hunter’s diminished pile of chips into a tray and hand it to him. He takes the tray, removes a two- two-thousand-dollar chip, and places it in my palm. “Pity you could have much more than this,” he says and follows the others out. He is right, but it is more than enough for me. It’s by far my biggest tip of the night, if not ever.

As the room’s numbers dwindle, I take to gathering the cards and arranging the rest of the chips, Dante’s enormous pile of chips, when he says, “You’re staying.” To the bartender, he says, “You can leave.” His voice sounds cold. Colder than I’ve ever heard it before. It takes no time for the bartender to make his way out, leaving me and Dante alone. I continue with my job of putting the chips back into the trays as if there’s nothing odd about being asked to stay whilst wondering why I’m being singled out.

“Leave that,” Dante says, “In fact, I don’t want you touching anything in here.”

Fuck. That anger could only mean one thing. He probably thinks a theft has occurred. I gently placed the tray of chips back on the table and made sure they were nowhere near my chips. Mine total four thousand, easily explainable tips that can be verified by the cameras in the room. Heck, even Jesse can testify to my innocence. I am a little frazzled, but not bothered. Then Sal and the other bouncers who were outside the door come in and stand behind Dante. That shakes me up a little.

“Take a seat,” Dante’s voice is cold and quiet. It chills me as I dip back into my chair. He remains standing. An imposing figure separated from me by only a table. He crosses his arms and stares at me for what feels like forever. If it’s a way of breaking a person down, it’s effective, because I am ready to blurt out just about anything so I can get out from under his gaze.

“You’ve worked here for how long now? Three years, is it?” I nod, surprised he is aware of me at all until today.

“And in all that time, you’ve worked on the lower floors until this year.”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

I can’t parse out what makes a normal career jump interesting. I believe I have earned my right to work at the private tables. Granted, it’s the first time I’ve worked at the private of private tables, but was my work that bad? “Did I do anything wrong? If it was the drink spilling, and the miscount, I swear it won’t happen again…”

He raises a hand, silencing me immediately. Even I must bow down to the invisible power he exudes. “I don’t have time to play games. Like you saw, I shouldn’t be here right now. I should be in a lounge somewhere getting my dick sucked to high heaven and yet here I am. Having to take the trash out.”

“Take the trash out?” “Yes, exactly.”

I have heard the ‘security’ guys talk in that way. I have no idea what those words mean exactly, but it isn’t good. People who had to be ‘taken out’, have never come back. Whatever this is, it isn’t a simple miscalculation of funds or an employee performance evaluation. “Mr. Morelli, I don’t

know what you think I have done, but I assure you I have done nothing wrong.”

“You speak like someone who has no idea who they’re talking to. Do you know who I am?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am fucking this up, no matter what I say. The more I talk, the deeper the hole I dig. I must tread lightly. “My apologies Mr. Morelli.”

Everyone who works at the Grand Palazzo knows who he is and what he does. He is the head of the Morelli Family that owns half of the town, including this place. And, for whatever reason, if I don’t say the right words, he will kill me.