“Actually, that’s how I’ve done it in the past.”

“‘Actually’ you can kiss my ass. All I care about is getting my money back.”

“Absolutely. No problem. You have my word.”

Dante stared at him until he looked away. “How much time are we talking here?”

“A week?”

Dante reached over and flipped a page on his desk calendar. “Monday, August 11.”

“That’d be great.”

Dante made a note.

Phillip hesitated, unsure what came next. “Is there paperwork?”

“Paperwork?”

“An IOU or contract you want me to sign?”

Dante waved off the idea. “Don’t worry about it. Gentlemen’s agreement. We shake hands and it’s done. Check with Nico on your way out and he’ll give you the cash.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I mean that.”

“You can thank your old man. I’m returning a kindness from way back,” Dante said. “Speaking of which, I have a friend in management at Binion’s. You play there, he’ll comp you a room. You can tell him I said so.”

“I’ll do that, and thank you so much.”

Dante stood up and Phillip followed suit. As they shook hands, Phillip felt himself breathing a sigh of relief. In his fantasy, he’d played hardball with the vig, and Dante had come down two percentage points, impressed by his bargaining skills. Now he felt sheepish having broached the subject with a man of Dante’s reputation. He was lucky he hadn’t been thrown out on his ass. Or worse.

As though on cue, the door opened and the brunette appeared.

“One word of advice…” Dante added.

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t mess up. You dick with me, you’ll be sorry.”

“Got it. I’m good for it. I guarantee.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Binion’s had seen better days, but Phillip’s room was nice enough. Looked clean at any rate. He dropped his duffel, put seven of his ten-grand stake in his pocket, and went down to the floor, where he traded the cash for chips.