I know Gino. He strategically places the women here as an equalizer to increase the likely hood that these games don’t end in a bloodbath. That wouldn’t be good for business. Gino’s been doing this for a long time. He’s very good at what he does.
When I was a boy my father came to Vegas often. And most times he would forget he even had a small child with him. For some reason, Gino who had me by ten years took me under his wing. It was he who taught me how to play chess.
“Life is a big a$$ chest board kid. And everywhere you go that’s not in your environment, a new game begins. No exceptions.” He sat me down and showed me how the pieces moved.
“You may hear people say that the queen is the most important piece on the board.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a bad b**ch, she can really hold stuff together. But if she dies, the game continues. However, if the king dies, the game is over and everybody on his team dies with him.” He held up his finger.
“Now, there can only be two kings on the board at one time. You may have some pieces that think they’re a king, but they’re not, their actually rooks or bishops; in some cases, pawns.” He chuckled.
“You kid, because your dad is who he is, you a king whether you want to be or not. So you better learn the game and how to always remain at least five steps in front of your opponent, or you gon’ be a dead king.” At the time I didn’t know how valuable his words would prove to be.
It took living life and going through the motions of striving and surviving to learn their worth. And now I applied what I learned everywhere I went outside of my environment—no exceptions.
I’ll show you what I mean. Let’s take this room for example. Although the five of us at this table playing poker imagined ourselves to be kings just like Gino said, there were only two real kings here.
How do I know, you ask?
Well… I could tell by their security team. You see, real kings traveled with real security, men that were loyal enough to die for them. Out of the four men who sat at the table with me, only one of them had a security team worth my attention.
The others drank too freely and were distracted by the women. There was a plush lounge couch that faced the television in the front of the room; the back of it faced our table. Several of their guards sat over there cheering for the football game while waging personal bets.
On the opposite end of the room, there sat three other guards who were way too involved in trying to convince a few of the models into going home with them. It was a futile effort. Gino made sure these girls were well trained in the art of distraction. It’s how he made most of his money. They were good at their jobs.
Kiddy corner to the bar was a love seat, where two of these clowns guards sat together, both of them enthralled in scrolling through their phones. Damn shame! If one of my men dare take out their phones to surf the web while on duty, it’ll be the last thing they do.
It was pretty clear that three of my opponents imagined themselves kings in their head, but were really pawns with money to throw away on a rented security team. However, Jamel, crowned prince of Cedan, had come to not only play poker, but chess as well; which if things got heated, would make him my true opponent.
His security team didn’t even pretend to mingle with what they considered infidels. Two of them stood slightly behind him on both sides, hands clasp in front of them—stiff as statues. They were mechanically scanning the room as they were trained; reminding me of the guards that stood outside of Buckingham Palace.
Another stood next to the door facing us in the same manner. There was also one at the opposite end of the room with his back to the wall, where he felt he had the room covered.
Me on the other hand, I played the game a little different from his royal highness. On the surface my men appeared to be fairly relaxed. Mac sat at the back bar with his body positioned so that he had one arm on the bar and a drink in his other hand. He appeared to be casually conversing with Rachel the bartender, but if I knew Mac, he was gathering intel on everybody in the room.
At the opposite end of the bar, closer to the door sat Flint, who seemed to be enjoying the rivalry between those who were betting on the game. Between the couch and the poker table stood Spider, he and his identical twin Spooky have been with me since my days on the streets. The only way to tell them apart was the fact that Spider always had a toothpick in his mouth. He stood over to the side, not too far from the two guards that stood to the back of Prince Jamel. He looked on at the poker game, appearing to be genuinely interested in what was happening.
Meanwhile, Spooky leaned against the far wall opposite Flint, across from Mac, but not too far from the two suckers for love who were searching social media for the meaning to their pathetic lives. With one foot on the wall, Spooky leaned casually against it, appearing to be pushing up on one of the waitresses.
What separated my men from these other three rich fools bodyguards, who was up here having the cowboy sh*t time of their lives, was the fact that although they each held drinks in their hand, Rachel already knew my policy about my men drinking on duty, and would have filled their
