Chapter Text
The Pink Moon is blue upon enter, the smoke seeping into my lungs and eyes. It's certain that when I eventually leave, I'll have the stench all over me. I wouldn't mind it, as I do smoke myself. But the horrible smell of cigars is near nauseating.
I greet Jacob and Tom and join them on their way to the bar. They order some fancy bullshit but I go for my usual poison. Tequila. A few shots down in a row, and I can feel the faint buzz in my head and a lightness in my step. So far I have proven my theory that even alcohol doesn't mess up my game. I'm too good at poker and finally have reached the step where I can play with the Boss. The man who runs this hellhole. Pink Moon. A godforsaken strip club and a whore house all packed in one.
Previous weeks I have played with some of my fellows from the mob and some not so friendly creatures of the night. The poker match had always taken place in the basement, the existence of a club only noticeable by smothered thumping of the music.
This time it's different. Not only am I now upstairs, I was asked to attend the game. Boss's request. The last person who was invited upstairs got caught cheating and his mangled corpse was found the following week. I don't cheat. I wouldn't know how to. I'm just a natural. I walk to the table, stumbling a bit. The blue smoke and flashing lights have hindered my vision.
I'm told to sit down opposite the Boss and take a look around. Every person here is a leader. Some of them big time corporations, some other well known mobsters. It comes to me that, even being a wealthy man, I stand no chance in bidding. But then, as I look on the table, there are heaps of chips lying in front of me. I look up to the Boss and he gives me a smirk. I can't see if it's intended for me, as his eyes are covered by black glasses, but I just assume he wants a challenge. And challenge to beat me.
So far I have won every game. Except those where I had to watch because the others had voted so. Apparently winning too much isn't that beneficial either. Especially if one is after popularity. I had that already, I had made a name for myself so I had nothing to lose. But as the weeks went by, I had started getting bored with this whole thing. It wasn't only about poker. The joy of the job as a whole was diminishing.
Torturing people has become useless, they already know who I am and would give me the information anyway. All the jobs were becoming more and more mundane. Day by day, my life was stretching. My heart seems to long after something. Or perhaps someone. A life filled with meaningless one night stands has left me certain of who I am. But I'm still to find out who I want to be.
But for now, I have poker. Some say it's all about luck. Bullshit. Like any card game, it's based on strategy. No, it doesn't involve reading the cards. Reading is cheating. It's just to know when to take the high risks and go for broke and when to fold. It seems simple enough, but with big bucks in the game, and hot shots like this, who knows what will happen.
Three hours and a whole bunch of cigarettes later it's down to the two of us. Me and the Boss. It's possibly the last round I'll ever play. Would the Boss appreciate me winning or would it be horrible to be beaten by me? Will I get beaten, literally? Too late to think, cause I'm looking at my cards and the cards on the table and I am certain I'm winning. I push the mountain of chips onto the center of the table, calling all in. He does the same but neither of us set our hands down. He looks at me, I look at him. Time passes. It has evolved into a staring contest. Until he finally reveals his cards and so do I. Upon realising that I have won, I don't cheer. I fall silent. I wait for my destiny.
"Dominic. You won. You crazy motherfucker. But my gambling passion and my ego want to go one more time."
"I should go." I hesitate.
"What about a sweeter deal?"
I pause. I have millions of dollars in chips. How could it get sweeter?
"Sweeter?"
"If I win. I get all the money and you never play poker again."
"If I win?"
"You get to keep the money and I'll give you a night with one of my employees."
"Boss.... I... I-?"
"Saying no? Really? Didn't think you were such a pussy, Dominic."
"I'm not. What I mean is that-"
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Proudly presenting our very own star of the show: Reeeeed Peppeeeerrr!"
The announcer's voice blasts over my pathetic excuse. Or actually lack of it. I wouldn't chicken out of a poker game but never play poker again? That's a bit harsh. I would accept his offer if all the performers weren't women. I really don't care about seeing their tits.
But then, Red Pepper walks in, heels clicking. Black heels on a pair of silvery legs that continue up to a leather-clad arse. His body completely covered in silver glitter and sweat, red hair glistening. He hasn't got a shirt on. Thank god.
He walks to the center of the stage and then slides himself down the pole seductively before climbing up to hang upside down, his body held around the pole by only one leg. He'll catch me staring. I don't care. Shit, he'll catch me salivating over him. I don't care. If the Boss includes him, then I don't care if I lose my hearing or sight or limbs. I want to give everything I have for him.
"Dominic? Do you want him? I'll say I'm a bit surprised but if that's what you want then that's what you'll get. If you win, of course."
"I'm in."
"Perfect. Hey, you. Deal the cards. I have a game to win."
I glance back to the stage to see him do tricks on the pole. We'll see who's winning.
---
It's all down to the final reveal of cards again and I feel confident. My heart starts beating fast in expectation and my fingers start tapping, giving him false hope of me being nervous.
He reveals his cards and bam. His hand is so good he thinks he's won. But fuck yes, as usual my hand is better and I win. I would glance back to the stage but he's gone now.
"Dominic! You have proved yourself to be a master of this game. I'm beginning to think you're cheating."
"It's a fair game, sir. I don't know how to cheat."
"Okay. Okay. I'm too tired to mess with you tonight. Are you sure you want him as your prize?"
"I'm sure."
"Go to room 20. It's the last one. Give him this note. But this is for his eyes. Clear?"
"Yes, sir. Clear."
I go to the back part of the club and walk past the rooms, heading for the last one. When I reach it I stop to think for a second. I rarely think before doing something. But this time was different. It needed some thinking. I'd accepted the offer so quickly, without thinking about it. I was about to enter the room of the most prized performer here. To do what? What was I expecting from this? The Boss said, spend a night. I'm no fool, I know what that means. But am I just supposed to barge into his room and say "Hey, your boss bet your ass in a poker and I won. Let's fuck"? Enough thinking. Fuck thinking. I'll definitely overthink this. So I let my body do what it wants most. I knock on the door. Some time passes before it unlocking and opening.
"You're not Sarah. And you don't have food." He says, closing his silk black robe hastily.
"Sorry, no. Boss told me to come here and he gave me this to give to you."
He takes the note and reads it, leaning on the doorway. His robe slides open a little, my eyes glued to the bit of skin exposed. He reads it and then throws it on the ground, pulling me in by my collar and closing the door.