Free Liquid Smoke by Jeff Shelby

gonna kick your ass here, bro.”
    “You and what person twice your size, bozo?” he said, matching my volume. He dropped a couple of chips on black. He glanced at the worker’s nametag. “Fire her up, Bill, and make sure that fuckin’ little pearl lands on black.”
    Bill laughed and turned to me. “Sir? Do you wish to bet?”
    “I wanna be black,” I said.
    “So did Vanilla Ice,” Carter said. “Let’s go. Drop your money.” “You may also bet on black, sir,” Bill said.
    “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I want to be the only one on black.”
    A perplexed expression settled on Bill’s face. I looked at Carter. “Next round, I’m black.” “Whatever, Vanilla.” He pounded the edge of the table. “Come on. Let’s go.”
    I dropped a couple of chips on red.
    Bill spun the wheel. The tiny ball jumped like it was electrified. “Come on, you little fucker!” Carter yelled, pounding the table again.
    The ball bounced into the black slot and settled as the wheel came to a halt.
    Carter stood and jumped up and down like a two-year-old in a crib. “Oh yeah, baby! Pay the big man!”
    Bill laughed and slid some chips toward Carter. Carter reached for them, but I grabbed his wrist before he got there.
    “That’s my money,” I said.
    “The fuck it is, Vanilla,” he said, appropriately appalled. “And you better let go of me before I make you eat this wheel.” “I called black.”
    “Too slow, bozo.” He glanced at Bill, like can-you-believe-my-buddy. “Bill, that’s my money, dude.”
    Bill now appeared as if he wished he’d called in sick. “Fellas, let’s calm down.”
    People were creeping closer, unable to ignore our voices.
    “My money,” I said.
    “My ass,” Carter said.
    I tackled him, and we fell to the floor.
    “This is fun,” Carter whispered as he rolled me over.
    I wrapped my arms around his head. “Just you wait.”
    A flurry of people surrounded us and began pulling us apart. We both ended up in the arms of security guards. Lots of yelling and people telling us to calm down. For a moment, I wondered if our show was all for naught.
    Finally, though, from the area near the elevators, three men in dark suits came toward us. Large, severe men.
    I looked at Carter. “Here comes the real fun.”

TWENTY-TWO
     
    One of the suits took me by the arm. Not roughly, but more like he was escorting me around an art gallery.
    He smiled politely. “Sir, if you’d like to come with us.” It wasn’t a question, but it lacked the threat I was expecting.
    The two other suits gestured at Carter but didn’t take his arm. A wise move.
    We moved away from the scene of our lunacy and toward the elevators. My escort let go of my arm but was still smiling. “You succeeded in getting Mr. Moffitt’s attention.”
    “Imagine,” I said.
    The elevator opened, and we all stepped in. I marveled that somewhere in the action Carter had managed to retain his Slurpee. He was sucking on the straw as if nothing had happened.
    My escort stuck a key in a lock above the floor numbers and turned it. The doors closed, and we rose much higher than the fourth floor where we’d originally started. I guessed we went up about ten floors.
    The doors opened, and the floor didn’t look much different than the admin offices. The men escorted us into a conference room with a view of the hills and the afternoon sunshine. A crystal pitcher filled with water sat in the middle of a huge mahogany table, accompanied by six matching glasses.
    My guy gestured at the plush leather chairs around the table. “Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.”
    We sat down, and they left.
    Carter set his Slurpee on the table. “Now what?”
    “Vanilla Ice?” I asked.
    “You like that? I thought it was pretty good.” “I should’ve dumped the Slurpee on your head.”
    “Now that wouldn’t have been good.” He waved a hand around the room. “So?”
    “So let’s see who comes to visit us.”
    Twenty minutes and two