To Play the Prince of Poker

One: Monday

1:36 am, Sunday

... no wait. It would be Monday now.

1:37 am, Monday

Tylenol.

What she needed was a Tylenol, and badly. Or better yet, a handful of any pain killer, maybe a sleeping pill in that mix, her dark room, and finally some damn sleep.

Lori Greene stood in front of the lavish deep maroon and dark oak wooden double doors of the lounge. The club music mixed with the many voices engaged in conversation, drinking to a stupor, or the excited buzz of gambling streaming from the window. She puffed out a heavy breath. This was not her type of place, not anymore. "Are you sure Mr. Torro took the key?" Lori sighed into the phone, her roommate Ryan on the other line. A shiver runs down her spine. Geezus, when did it get so cold?

"Yes!! He snatched it from me and kicked me from the complex!"

"And the emergency key...?"

"I—" A guilty pause. "I lost it."

Of course he did. God only knows she should have made a spare key the second she flew in. Lori pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled in annoyance. Another new problem for her to fix in her list of hundred.

She should not have to be dealing with this! Not now. She should have been in bed an hour ago, snagging a few hours of precious sleep before the interview that was tomorrow; well, now today. Chasing down the landlord for the house key because Ryan didn't pay the bill was not part of her plan, and she hated that.

"Fine. I'm getting the key. But you owe me! Big time! Including your bus pass today for my interview!"

"Of course! Of course! Thank you, babe!!" A muffled yell resonates from his side of the phone. Ryan quickly whispered, "Shit! Boss is angry! Gotta Go! Mwah!" Ryan kisses and hangs up.

Lori tucked her phone into the pocket of the too short blue-black skirt that did nothing to warm her bare legs and sighed heavily. The headache was growing stronger. She had only been in this city for two weeks. Why did she have to deal with this now? Couldn't such a situation happen after her first real job interview?

No. There was no time for a pity party. She had to resolve this, and quickly. Determination takes her features as she clutched her fists, her mind whirling to create a plan. One: Find the landlord. Two: Get the key. Three: Go home and swallow the Tylenol. Four: Rock the interview. With the plan in mind, she straightens her back and throws open the door of the dark savvy establishment.

Midnight Mystique was the most exclusive lounge/bar/casino in the city right at the edges of the famous Las Vegas Strip, and that was hard to do in the City of Sin; even Lori knew that. Every big shot of Las Vegas was a frequent visitor here. Thick deep colored carpets and expensive ebony wood walls created the outline for the interior. The lights were dimmed, sparkling in the small chandeliers. Plush couches and chairs with gold embroidery filled the rooms in an elegant and stylish fashion. The interior had allowing for separate rooms for chatting, for lounging, for dancing, for gambling, for celebrating, or for plain old heavy drinking at the bar.

The bar itself was long and glittering. Strobe lights flashed in that room, the hangout spot of the younger crowd. Modern shelves with built in lighting helped showcase the expensive selections of alcohol. Lori doubted that any drink would cost less than $20, including the water.

The rooms were filled with wealthy people in black-tie. Men in finely tailored business suits pack the lounges and the bar with expensive-looking woman dripping from some of their arms.