Chapter One
©2008 Deborah Krider
Julie Silvers gazed down
She looked down at the note again.
Take these chips and give me all your money. I have a gun.
"Do it now," he whispered.
Of all her years working at the casino, she had never encountered a robbery of this magnitude. There were ladies purses snatched, as well as coin-filled cups swiped from inattentive customers at slot machines, but nothing directed at her. And surely nothing with a gun. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. Sweat formed under her arms, between her breasts, and at her temples. Her fingers twitched, wanting to feel for the silent alarm button inches from her hand, just under the counter.
As if reading her mind the man said, "Don't even think about calling security."
She slowly looked at what he had given her; seven $1 chips from another casino.
Are the guys in the security booth seeing this? Can they tell something is wrong?
Julie shifted her eyes around the general vicinity looking for Billy, the security guard who stood by the cages. He was no where to be seen.
Great. Cameras and security, but no one to help.
Give him the money. He's really stoned on something. Don't take any chances, just give him the money.
But I don't see a gun. What if he is just saying he's got one? Do you really want to hand over thousands of dollars to this slime?
She tried to see inside his filthy green windbreaker. Although she couldn't make out a gun, it didn't mean there wasn't one there. Lacking safety glass, bars were the only thing that separated her from him.
"The cash," he whispered quietly yet harshly.
The cold fear in her belly turned to tendrils of smoky anger as she contemplated calling his bluff. Sadly, she had grown familiar with the careless disregard for her safety. Today marked the one year anniversary of the most painful day of her life. Remembering that now for the thousandth time turned that smoky anger into fiery rage. Growing certain he didn't have a gun, she decided she wasn't about to let this punk push her around.
And screw him if he does have a gun. I'm not giving him the money. This roach is not getting a dime off of me. He picked the wrong cashier to mess with.
Julie took a deep breath and hit the security call button. "Fuck you," she told him, challenging him with her eyes. For a second he looked wary, hesitant, then his eyes hardened and everything that followed seemed to go in slow motion. Julie saw him reach inside his coat. His jaw clenched, baring yellowish-black teeth. Meth mouth for sure, she dimly thought. She caught a glimpse of the black steel he was pulling out of his coat pocket.
"Get down!" She yelled at the top of her lungs and dove for the floor. Startled gasps of surprise from her co-workers as well as customers closest to the casino cages punctuated the air.
The report of gunshots barked harshly. One, two, three in quick succession. One whizzed by her head, causing her to scuttle closer to the counter, and hopefully out of his range. Screams permeated the casino.
"Fuck!" he hissed, his voice receding as he moved away. Julie could make out his progression through the casino from the shrill screams of those he ran past.
Her breath came in savage gasps. Her throat and head throbbed from the adrenaline filled beating of her heart.
Dimly she heard many footsteps pounding through the casino, then the sound of a body tackling another. Billy and his boys must have taken the would-be robber down.
"Stay down!"
"Get off me!"
"Billy, grab that arm."
"Don't move, you son of a bitch!"
Grunts and more yells.
What seemed like hours later, she heard, "It's okay everyone. We got him."
Cries and soft murmurs echoed though the casino mixed with the dinging and ringing of the slot machines, creating a twisted duet.
On shaky legs, Julie stood up and saw the comforting uniforms of both the casino's security and the Las Vegas P.D.
***
Paul Mottolo, the manager of the Grand Oasis, drummed the fingers of his right hand on his desk, while his left hand smoothed out his neatly trimmed mustache. Julie sat across from him, her expression blank, waiting for him to speak. In truth, he didn't know how to break the silence. Are you insane? Have you lost your mind? Those were the things he wanted to say, but knew it wouldn't get them anywhere. He sighed, got up and crossed the floor of his plush office that overlooked the casino to make a couple drinks at the bar. Scotch on the rocks for him, a vodka tonic for her.
She had worked for him for a long time and he had grown quite fond of her, feeling fatherly and protective of her. Over the years, Julie had worn many hats at the casino. She worked the gambit from cashiering to blackjack tables to banquet coordinator. Having a keen eye for colors and design, Paul also brought her on board to help with the re-decorating a few years ago.
Before her mother became sick and died a year ago, Julie exuded a lively, funny, cheerful nature. But after her mother's diagnosis of breast cancer two years ago, and her quick death a year after that, Julie changed. She became withdrawn, indifferent, and very angry. At one time her co-workers flocked around her because of her magnetic personality. Her genuine kindness, funny jokes, stories, and her quick-to-laugh nature made her co-workers feel happy just being near her. Now they steered clear of her in hopes to avoid a brush off, a snide remark, or worse, an outburst of anger. She became indifferent to how they felt as well as everything around her.
Paul stared at her profile as he made the drinks. She looked out the huge window, down on the casino. Long, golden brown hair fell on her back in slight waves. Her once lovely face now carried the scars of intense heartache which showed in her lifeless brown eyes. Her full lips that Paul had been used to seeing smile more times than not were now sober and serious and had been that way for a long time.
He came back to his desk, stopping to give her the drink. "I'm not sure what to say, Julie." He paused, sipping his scotch and settling back into his chair. She shrugged indifferently as if to say, me neither.
Hours had passed since the incident. The cops questioned people and viewed the video tape as well as took a copy as evidence.
The casino's security team up in the booth had alerted the floor guards, and they had effectively apprehended the would-be thief, and murderer without further incident. It could have been so much worse.
"Why didn't you just hand over the money? You put a lot of people in danger. The patrons, your co-workers, and yourself. Thank god no one was hurt."
Julie looked at him with eyes that somehow looked sad, defensive and indifferent all at the same time. His heart went out to her. Seeing the spiraling downward change in her was saddening. Neglect for herself, her safety, and today - her life, frightened him. A couple months ago, while walking through the casino, she had seen a guy run by the slots and snatch a purse. Without hesitation, she cut him off and tackled him to the ground. Paul saw the whole attack on tape. What truly frightened him was the way she straddled the robber, grabbed fistfuls of his hair, and slammed his head into the ground over and over again. Her rage alarmed him. He should've fired her after that, but instead sent her home for a few days to cool off.
But this was different. The danger she put herself in as well as everyone else couldn't be ignored. Paul had watched the tape with the police and had to leave the room when they wanted to watch it again. The images made him ill.
Julie yells and drops to the floor. The gunman takes out his gun, and jams his arm through the small transaction window. He's not shooting randomly. He's aiming for her.
"I really thought he was bluffing about the gun," she answered quietly.
"We're going to have to do something this time, Julie." He looked fixedly at her.
"Fire me?" She returned a blank stare, her voice passive.
"No, I don't want to fire you." He paused, thinking that what he was about to say next would put her on the defensive and possibly make her walk out. "I want you to go away for a while. And I have a place for you to go."
She frowned suspiciously. "Where and for how long?"
"Minnesota. For the summer. At least the summer."
"What! Minnesota? What for?"
Paul put a hand up to quiet her. "You need a change of scenery and a change of pace." He spoke firmly. "You refuse to speak to counselors about any issues you are having, and you won't open up to me. If you won't accept any help, then the only thing I can think of is to force you to take a leave of absence. Now I know you could walk out of here and very easily get a job at another casino. But I don't want you to do that, because it won't help you."
She frowned and asked, "What's in Minnesota?"
Paul sighed, feeling he might be getting through to her. Instead of walking out as he had feared, she at least loosened up enough to want to know more. "You know my brother, Tony lives there, right?"
"You want me to go live with your brother?" Julie asked with unconcealed skepticism.
Paul smiled. "No, but you may remember that he owns a little Italian restaurant in Minneapolis. Above it is a small apartment - fully furnished. His daughter used it until she went away to college last fall. You could have it for the summer for free. It's something I've thought about for a while now and my brother already agreed. It's a convenient opportunity. I want you to go."
Julie narrowed her eyes at him. "Why Minnesota, and not your condo in Florida?"
Paul laughed. "I'd love for you to stay there, but it's being renovated. It's unlivable right now. Don't be too harsh about Minnesota; it's a pretty nice place. Lots of things to do in the city and lots of things to see up North. It would be good to get out of here for a while." He paused, and his face and eyes gentled. "I care about you, sweetheart. I really do. And I'm worried about you." For a moment Julie's eyes watered. Paul thought she was worried about herself as well.
She took a deep breath, and the tears were gone. "And if I don't go?"
Paul leaned forward and fished out a Cuban from a gold cigar box. He took his time lighting it then gazed at Julie through rising gray smoke. "I will have to let you go. This place can be dangerous enough as it is. I don't need the worry of a dangerous employee."
She opened her mouth to disagree, but then shut it. Paul realized she knew she couldn't.
"I'm doing this because I'm concerned about you Julie. I could easily fire you for your past behavior, but I care about you and I think this would be a better solution."
Julie gazed at her lap, thinking. She lifted her head, looked him in the eyes, and quietly said, "Tell me more about that apartment."