CASINO SHUFFLE (23 page)

“It burns!”
 
The woman in the center of the room ducked and shielded her eyes, spilling her Diet Coke.

“Hey,” said Mark.
 
“You stand up.
 
You stop spilling everywhere.”

The girl tipped her soda upright and peeked out from behind her arm.
 
She was dark-skinned with an impressive afro.
 
“We don’t
ever
turn that on.”

The man in the corner looked like he was participating in a bomb drill.
 
From his position half-wedged beneath the counter, he said, “I didn’t even know there
was
a freaking light in this room…come on, man.”

Antonio flicked the switch and the room sank back into shadowy glow.
 
“That should make you more comfortable.”

Mark clicked on a penlight.
 
He moved it around the room.
 
“Please tell me you have a supervisor in here somewhere.”

“Right,” said the girl.
 
“Like our supervisor is ever around.”

“Where the hell is he?”
 
Mark asked.

“Right there,” said the young man at the counter, pointing to a monitor.
 
“Flirting with a cocktail waitress.
 
Not that he stands a chance.
 
She’s seeing the bartender in the player’s lounge.
 
He’s an ultimate fighter.”

“Last week they did it standing up in the lounge pantry,” said the girl.
 
She turned to Antonio.

“Want to see it?”
 
The young man began punching in commands to his keyboard.

The girl began striding towards him.
 
“If you turn that on again I’m putting your head through the monitor.
 
I swear to god.”

“Wait.
 
Ouch!”

She had a handful of his hair.
 
“Don’t turn it on, Chewie.”

“You’re embarrassing us!”

Mark started over.
 
“Stop it.
 
Let him go.”

The overhead light flooded the room with instant effect.
 
Everyone covered their eyes, including Mark.

Antonio turned the light off.
 
“I trust you won’t make me do that again.”

The girl lowered her hands.
 
“He’s good.”

The boy rubbed the top of his head.
 
“The best.”

Mark pointed his penlight at them.
 
“What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Antonio stepped forward into a wash of light from the monitors that transformed him into a well-dressed specter.
 
“I’m disappointed in what I’ve witnessed thus far.
 
Aside from the obvious policy violations of misconduct and horseplay, there is the violation of policy in regards to beverages in an area designated for computer use, and last but certainly not least, a blatant disregard for the fact that Mr. Ford is a member of your department management team.”
 
He unfurled a handkerchief and laid it squarely over the puddle of soda on the floor.
 
“Since neither of you are wearing your department issued name tags, please introduce yourselves.”

The girl and boy exchanged looks that were almost reverent.

Finally the young lady turned and held out her hand.
 
“Chloe.”

“A pleasure to meet you.
 
And I believe she referred to you, sir, as Chewie?”

The boy stood up and wiped his hand on his pants before offering it.
 
“Uhm.
  
It’s Scott.
 
Chewie is a nickname.
 
We’re both fans of Star Wars.
 
She’s…Chloe, I mean, is Darth Vader.”

Mark said, “I have to get out of here.
 
Forget it.”
 
He walked past Antonio.
 
“Let’s go pull the tapes up through casino surveillance.”

“Those techno-nazis?”
 
Chewie crossed his arms.
 
“They have these big budget pinpoint recognition programs that do all the hard work, and they take all the credit.”

“Good, that’s what we need.
 
Come on Antonio.”

“Hey by the way,” said Chloe, reaching out and putting a finger to Antonio’s lapel.
 
“We’re big fans of your work.”

Antonio arched an eyebrow.
 
“My work?”

“Show him, Chewie.”

Chewie dropped into the chair and began furiously typing on the keyboard.
 
“We’ve been watching you for awhile now.
 
We put together a string of clips.
 
Kind of like your greatest hits.”

Mark stopped at the door.
 
“You can’t be serious.”

Chloe waved him over.
 
“You gotta see this.”

Antonio was taken aback.
 
“I’m not sure that we have time to watch my…greatest hits, as you call them.”

“We’ve got time.”
 
Mark walked over to the computer terminal.
 
“Bring it up, Chewie.”

A square of light fell across the floor as Chloe opened a mini-frig under the counter.
 
“Anybody want a soda?”

“I’ll take one,” said Mark.

Antonio glared at him as best as the low-light allowed.

“Okay, here we go,” said Chewie.
 
“This is great.
 
I can’t believe you’re actually here watching this.
 
Chloe, can you believe this?”

“Be cool,” she said, popping the tab on her soda.

Chewie grabbed the mouse and maneuvered the arrow on-screen.
 
“I added some stuff.
 
Well, you’ll see.”

The media player enlarged to fill the screen.
 
The image was Antonio and Sonny Wu striding down the 23
^rd
floor hallway, the camera somewhere above and behind them.
 
Over the image a title appeared:

Antonio vs. Godzilla

Mark nearly choked on his Diet Coke.

The footage played on as the title exploded on the screen; letters spun off to infinity.
 
There was a quick flash as the angle changed to another security camera.
 
Antonio and Sonny were standing outside a Villa door.
 
Antonio reached up and knocked.
 
A cartoon dialogue balloon erupted over Antonio’s head.

I will use my key!
 
You had better stand back!

Mark barked out laughter and clapped Chewie on the back.
 
“This is great.”

“We don’t have sound,” said Chewie, obviously blushing even in the alien glow of the monitor.
 
“I had to make up what they were saying.”

“Just wait,” said Chloe.
 
“It gets way better.”

Antonio stifled the urge to remove himself from the room.

On-screen, the digital Antonio swiped his electronic key through the door lock and carefully pushed it open.
 
A very large iguana hastily escaped through the open door, wriggling sideways, clawing madly at the carpet, and whisking between Antonio legs to dash down the hallway, tail sideswiping behind.
 
The laptop speakers roared with the gargantuan bellow of Godzilla.

“I downloaded that from YouTube,” said Chewie.

Mark leaned closer to the screen.
 
“Please tell me it’s not over.”

“Oh no, there’s more.”

Mark looked over his shoulder at Antonio.
 
“There’s more.
 
Stop looking at me like that.”
 
He turned back to the screen.
 
“Can you turn it up?”

The camera switched again.
 
Now the iguana was shuffling down the hallway towards the camera and disappeared from view at the bottom of the screen.
 
Antonio and Sonny came running down the hall.

Antonio’s dialogue balloon appeared:
 
Halt, vile creature!
“He would say that,” said Mark.

The scene changed.
 
Antonio and Sonny stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their backs to the camera, facing a corner of the elevator landing.
 
Just beyond them the iguana could be seen, mouth open, hissing at them, tail slapping the walls as it spun around to find escape.

Antonio:
 
I’ll trap the beast with my indestructible tuxedo!

The real Antonio shook his head.
 
“Ridiculous.”

Mark waved him off.
 
“Shush.”

On-screen, Antonio leapt forward.
 
Using his jacket like a safari net, he tossed it over the iguana and pinned down the sides with his hands.
 
One of the sleeves in the jacket bulged and wriggled.
 
A second later it expelled the iguana from the cuff.

Antonio:
 
Curses!

Sonny:
 
It’s coming for me!

The audience in the surveillance room leaned towards the screen, save Antonio, who unfortunately was quite aware of the final scene, the results of which he had never disclosed to anyone else and neither had Sonny Wu.

The camera-angle switched.
 
At first it was just an empty entryway that led to the elevator landings, but then Sonny jumped into view, arms waving frantically, hopping on one leg, the iguana clutching the thigh he currently had cocked upright.

Mark slapped the countertop.
 
“Wow!”

As the finale came to its apex, Antonio jumped into view on the screen.
 
He ripped open Sonny’s tuxedo jacket, undid his belt with a few deft flicks of his wrist, and began to yank down his pants.

Sonny:
 
Hey, buy me a drink first!

Antonio:
 
I’m saving your life!

In one fluid movement, Antonio tugged Sonny’s pants down over the wriggling iguana, bundling it inside the trousers as he jerked them from Sonny’s dancing feet.
 
This accomplished he tied the legs in a quick knot and cinched the belt tight to close the waistline.
 
Sonny stood by, breathless, in white briefs.
 
Another Godzilla roar rumbled from the speakers.
 
The video snapped off and was replaced by a still image of Antonio superimposed over a
Tokyo
backdrop of neon towers and cheering citizens.

Mark was bent over, hands on knees.
 
“Oh God.”
 
He wiped his eyes.
 
“I haven’t laughed that hard in years.”

“It’s supposed to be an homage.”
 
Chewie looked up at Antonio, a worried expression on his face.
 
“We really are big fans of your work.”

Chloe nodded furiously.
 
“When you were getting Shannon Moon today out in the port?
 
The umbrella trick was genius.”

“Get this,” said Chewie.
 
“I’m thinking of doing a
Singing in the Rain
montage with that one.
 
It’ll be wicked.
 
Want me to email it to you when I’m done?”