On His Terms

○×2:casinos & infuriating ladies○×

<Play every game as if it's your last one>

|Kian|

WHOEVER STARTED the stupid cliché that billionaires were meant to have obedient ass-kissing drivers who drove them to both formal and informal occasions in a long ass limousine was dumb as fuck.

Contrary to popular opinion, I always drove myself around and without the aid of a driver. I didn't exactly see the need to employ one when I was more than capable of pushing the accelerator of my recently acquired sports car, the bugatti divo, past speed limits, its high-tech engine a soothing purr in my ears.

After I'd finished cleaning myself up---the man I'd glimpsed in the bedroom mirror appeared suave and confident. The things a simple shirt and trousers could do for you.

Then, I'd inquired from the head of my security where the newest casino in town was located. The lure to gamble in undiscovered places, exploring those seedy bars, drew me in.

A buff, barrel chested man, Thomas, chief bodyguard, had called it Pepper Dem.

Weird name but I'd nodded, asking for more details. Satisfied with all the information he'd revealed to me, I'd requested, my tone brooking no argument, "And Thomas, when I reach the casino, I want to go in alone. If you guys are to join me inside, everyone would surely know that it's me, and I don't want such attention tonight."

Back in my wild, college days, I might have loved the attention I would have gotten with them trailing behind me but right now I detested the assemble of body guards that shadowed me, never giving me any breathing space. Unless I absolutely needed them, I usually told them to fuck off.

"But sir, your father said we should always go whereever you go and keep you safe from---" Thomas had begun.

I had shaken my index finger indicating no, thunderclouds of wrath forming on my face. "Fuck what my father said. If you want to retain your job, don't enter inside with me. I will go alone." My tone was final.

Now as I made my way into Pepper Dem's kaleidoscopic entrance, I slid a sly glance backwards. Sure enough, they'd followed my orders, a series of black vans parked in the casino's lot. Good.

The first thing that caught a person's eyes whenever you entered a casino was the colour. Brilliant. Vivid. A mesh of all the shades of the rainbow mingling in a flamboyant, flashy union to depict a beguiling scene. It was a spider's intricate web spun to ensnare you.

Unlike other casino's I've been to, this one was different. Unique. The lightning was dim, the decor screaming abstract yet hypnotizing, a tinge of african culture infused in its gaudy walls, bold symbols and graphics highlighting the afro-fusion of urban Chicago.

A frown found its way to my forehead, creasing the smooth features of my once placid expression as I analyzed the gaming machines ahead of me, the air hazy from the burning embers of lit cigarettes, soft afrobeat music, a lull in my ears.

Thomas hadn't informed me about this african aspect of the casino. It was more of blacks than whites in here and even though I had grown up, mingling with their race in the business world, there was still a silver of hatred simmering in my veins for them.

But I was already in, so I might as well entertain myself.

I trudged through the bustling crowd consisting of novice gamblers eying the video pokers, scantily clad waitresses dishing out free cocktails, cash-laden "whales" seeking to play high-stake table games for hours. All were unconscious of the time because the casino had made it that way. There were no clocks or windows in sight; they wanted to keep the players focused on playing games. Sneaky but smart, the practical side of my business mind hailed.