Curious in a way he knew he’d regret later, he left his office and headed outside once more, Wade following behind at a discreet distance. Something she’d said before niggled the back of his brain. She’d asked if he’d ever had a conversation with the people in his casinos, and he realized aside from focus groups and the odd drunk reveler, he hadn’t really spent much time talking to his customers.
He wasn’t a fool. He understood the severity of gambling addiction. He just didn’t see much evidence of it in his casinos. The customers he’d spoken to had always seemed in control of their finances and appeared to know their limits. In fact, he was willing to bet the majority of his clientele were just out for a night of fun.
He was willing to play the odds and prove it to Kate Callender. He approached her little protest and those around her didn’t seem to know whether to get quiet or start chanting louder.
Kate hadn’t seen him arrive. He tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, he didn’t give her a chance to talk. It was his turn now.
“Come with me.”
She dropped her placard. “I’m busy, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Busy or not, she left with him, pulled by the elbow through the casino doors.
“Ten minutes, that’s all I ask. Then you can go back to fighting the good fight.” When he realized he was still holding her elbow, he let go and felt heat rush to his face. He turned to the gaming floor. “Let me tell you what I see, Ms. Callender. I see hundreds of happy people out there. Yes, they’re spending money, but look at the smiles. They’re glad to be here. It’s a bit of fantasy, a dream. I provide that and when they’re done, they go back to their humdrum lives with some exciting memories to share with their friends.”
She sniffed. “Well, aren’t you the philanthropist?” She turned to face the floor. “Let me tell you what I see, Mr. Doyle. See that man? The one with the red hair on the Mt. Olympus slot machine?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think there’s anything odd about the look on his face? Anything strange about his posture?”
Liam studied the man. He noticed the man’s glassy gaze, how he stared at the slot machine lights, but didn’t seem to be taking them in. His shoulders might have been balls of nerve, he held his arms at such a tense angle. “What? He’s concentrating.”
“You’re right, he is. He’s concentrating on how to win, and can’t think of anything else. See the way his jaw is set, the way his fingers are locked on the machine? He’s desperate. He’s compulsive, and has probably just lost his last dollar. So are you going to do the right thing and send him home now? A good bartender wouldn’t let a drunk continue drinking.”
Exactly the philosophy he imparted to his staff. Despite ensuring his employees followed it, he still felt defensive. Had they done enough? She didn’t seem to think so. “My security staff knows to watch out for troublemakers.”
“Oh, but he won’t cause trouble. He’s the perfect customer. He’ll smile and pretend everything’s okay, and then maybe tomorrow he’ll stumble home, when he realizes he’s pissed himself because he didn’t want to leave his spot to go to the bathroom, because he’s certain it’s about to pay out. Maybe then he’ll realize he’s in debt as well.”
“You paint a bleak picture.”
“I didn’t paint it, Mr. Doyle. People like you did.” She looked him right in the eye, her mouth tight.
“Well, let me draw your attention to the ladies lining up to cash in their chips at the wicket.” He pointed out a happy group of women in their thirties. “Look at them. This is probably the first trip any of them have had in years. Maybe they’re on a getaway, maybe they’re taking a break from their boring husbands or boring jobs. Whatever it is, they’re practically bubbling over with excitement.” He turned her attention to another couple. “And those two? They just came out of one of the theatres, having spent the last few hours watching a show, not gambling. Not everyone who orders a glass of wine at a bar is a drunk, Ms. Callender.”
His tirade through, all he could do was stare at her. So many emotions lanced through him that moment, ones he didn’t typically permit himself to feel. The tightness in her eyes soon softened into suspicious interest, but she quickly took the opportunity to escape, rushing back out the front entrance.
Cursing, Liam turned and watched the red-haired man at the slot machine. Okay, maybe Kate’s depiction of compulsive gambling didn’t apply to everyone in his clubs, but she wasn’t wrong about the look of hopelessness on the man’s face. Liam motioned for Wade to come over.
“Yes, boss?”
“See the man with the red hair? He’s been here too long. Put him in a cab, charge it to the company account, and make sure he gets home.”
“You got it.”
Liam headed for his private elevator, still cursing to himself. Not because he’d lost a customer. No, because before Kate had fled, he’d seen her eyes water with angry tears.
And now he truly felt like shit.
So far, opening week for Vice was going down in his personal history as the worst one ever.
Near end of day, Liam was once again drawn to his window. Once again, Kate trod the pavement with her comrades-at-arms, waving at the customers headed inside the casino and shouting do-gooder vitriol.
Only now, a part of him cheered her on. He couldn’t help it. He’d always loved an underdog. Hell, he could almost understand what Wade meant when he said he wanted to hug her. Almost.
Fuck. When did he become sympathetic to her cause? When she’d shone a light on the compulsive gambler in his casino. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her, about her motives and what inspired them. He needed to know.
He’d never been ignorant about the world of gambling. One couldn’t live in Vegas and remain innocent. God knew how many of the homeless folks out on the Strip had begun their downward spirals in a casino. He knew it, better than most.
But in every walk of life, there were people who couldn’t hack it. Didn’t matter where you went, the same story played out everywhere in different ways. Some people climbed, others crashed. He’d risen above his own trials and had survived.
So what was it about gambling that filled Kate with such ire?
Why did he even care? He had too much on his plate for these games. It was time to wave goodbye to the protestor, and in order to do so, he needed to convince her and her friends to leave. She could deal with the bee in her bonnet in front of someone else’s casino. Preferably Trump’s. Hell, he’d buy them all bad toupees to wear if they wanted.
He paged Wade to come to his office. He didn’t waste any time once he came out of the elevator. “I want to talk to her again. Bring her to me.”
Wade raised an eyebrow. “Sure. If I can. She was pretty ornery after you talked to her earlier.”
So their conversation had affected her, too. Interesting. “She’ll come.”
The other man considered. “I don’t think she’d stop for a fast-moving train. Hours on her feet out there, and she won’t even come into the casino to take a piss. She doesn’t even eat. I saw her pass around cookies to her pals, but she hasn’t touched them.”
Liam shook his head. He had to hand it to Kate Callender. The woman was driven, the sort of person he’d hire under different circumstances. “I want to talk to her. Now. Throw her over your shoulder if you have to.”
“Whatever you say, Liam.”
He checked the clock as Wade left. Three-forty. Bridget and Michelle were due in twenty minutes, but he’d make time for Ms. Callender. He needed to make her understand his point of view.
Christ, since when did he need her understanding? He was Liam Doyle, a man known for striking a good deal. In his experience, everyone caved once they thought they had a bargain. He’d swayed some of Vegas’s biggest players. He could sway Kate Callender. He just needed to turn on the charm and make the price appear attractive.