Roman (The Clutch 1)

1

Roman

Lights flash, like an eternal disco, lighting up the night sky. Nobody visiting keeps time in Las Vegas, the true city that never sleeps. Faces race by slowly, my heightened vision enabling me to make out every feature, from a crooked nose to fake eyelashes. Tourists from all over the world flock to the desert. Some to vacation in the sun, some hoping for their big break, others desperate for a fresh start. Everyone needs a change of pace or something different every now and again, even myself.

The humidity from the building, the people, and the general metropolis Las Vegas has become, traps the heat on the Strip. I prefer the area just outside of the city, where the desert is cooler, where the sun retreats behind the mountains in the distance, and the crisp air is free of the city pollution. Each night, as the sun begins to tuck itself into bed, the pink reflection left on the mountainside is meditative. I try to catch the sunset every evening, as it has brought a calm and peaceful appreciation for my surroundings. When you’ve lived as long as I have, finding moments of serenity are a rare gift.

My impatience grows as I continue to wait for Melody with whom I had an appointment twenty minutes ago. Humans are always late and full of selfish excuses for it. When she arrives, her face is flushed, and her chest is heaving slightly as she catches her breath.

“Roman. I am so sorry I’m late.”

“I was beginning to wonder if you changed your mind about working with me.” She hasn’t, I can tell by the racing of her heart. She’s nervous, not because of what I am, but out of the fear that I’ll dismiss her. She knows a big commission when she sees one. To me from the moment we met was evident, and if I didn’t have more specific standards in consorts, I might have taken her up on her advances, as she was easy prey.

“You know you’re my favorite client.” Her head tilts to the left, showing me her jugular. My tongue darts out, passing over my razor-sharp teeth. Melody doesn’t wear a cross, meaning she’d be perfectly comfortable if I were to compel her, but I refrain. Not because I’m in public, but more so because I’m trying to keep business away from pleasure. However, allowing Melody to think she has a chance is no exception. Pleasure always seems to win out in the end.

Over the years, the ability to pick up and play off of human weaknesses has become second nature. “Yes, well, then let’s get down to business, shall we?” The casino property that I want to purchase has just gone on the market. The current owners had no idea what they were getting into when they bought it. Renovations and upkeep to accommodate millions of people running through the doors of casinos require significant work and operational management. It’s not as simple as putting your name on the deed and collecting the cash that rolls in.

“Of course. Again, I’m so sorry I’m late.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a large blue folder with her company’s logo on the front, and hands it to me. “Here is the prospectus for the property. A full view of everything top to bottom. Would you like to look at them over a drink?” She smiles, with a hopeful look in her eyes.

“I believe you already know I don’t drink.” I smirk at her, acknowledging her proposition. I had to give her an A for effort. She didn’t lay it on too thick but made her intentions known nonetheless.

“That’s right, I almost forgot.” She grins, shrugging her shoulders.

“Let’s walk around the place again so that I can be sure I know what I need to before filing the formal papers.” I tuck the folder under my arm, not reviewing it. I’ve already seen the blueprints of the property; in fact, I have them memorized. I know exactly what I’m getting into. However, achieving a certain level of comfort with the people I have to do business with is of the utmost importance. The only questions I have remaining are ensuring I file the necessary paperwork with the municipality and the gaming commission.

We walk silently around the exterior of the building before going inside to talk. Melody picks at the skin on her thumb nervously, waiting for me to speak once we sit down at a bar table inside the casino.

“Are you nervous around me, Melody?” I ask sardonically.

Dropping her hands to her lap, she shakes her head. “No, Roman. Not at all. I mean I’ve never done business with a vampire before, but it’s no big deal. Just like doing business with anyone else. I think you are all great.” She rambles.

“You can relax Melody. You do know that we don’t go around biting people whenever we want. That is unless we’re invited of course,” I reply smoothly. I’m flirting back, and while I have no interest in feeding off her, or fucking her for that matter, it’s a behavior that is instinctive. Vampires by nature are virile. It’s a glorious affliction to be attractive to the opposite sex and to have the ability to pick and choose, which wasn’t always the case. For many years we hid, unable to walk among the humans as we do now. They hunted us, killing off the population because of who we are.

“Oh, I know.” She grins, shifting in her seat. “My friend says you only bite people who want to be bitten.”

“Your friend is correct.” My eyes shift, watching her turn her engagement ring around her finger until I force myself to focus on the issue at hand, buying the casino. “So, Melody, I’m in. I want you to broker this deal. I’d like to expedite this process though as quickly as possible. I have plans to renovate immediately, and subsequently, I have plans to construct an additional unrelated building with the net gains from this property. So, the contract needs to include not only this casino but the empty lot that we discussed outside of downtown as well. Can you handle this?”

“Of course I can. Have you filed the necessary permits with the gaming com

mission or the township?”

“Yes and no. My permits to renovate are filed; however, I’m unclear exactly what needs to be done with the gaming commission. Doesn’t the property come with the license?” I’ve tried looking into this, but the information provided on the commission’s website is archaic at best, and that says a lot, coming from a five hundred-year-old vampire.

“I was afraid of that.” She purses her lips thoughtfully as if she has more to add.

“What is it?” I demand.

“You have to file for your own gaming license. There’s a set number available, and yours will be the one that’s given up by the current owners. But, there’s a bit of a snag we haven’t discussed yet.” The ring twisting has stopped, and she looks at me with pure fear in her eyes. Not responding, I raise my eyebrows at her, and gently spin my hand for her to continue.

“Well, the head of the gaming commission… he’s a difficult man. And, as it turns out, he doesn’t like to do business with vampires. As in, he won’t give you a license. But, not to worry. Now, what I suggest you do, is find yourself a human who you can trust, and have them file the paperwork to get the license,” she explains hesitantly.

“So, you’re saying I can’t actually own my own casino? I have to get a business partner, which I do not want, by the way, to act as my surrogate so that I can get this piece of paper?”

“Unless you can come up with a way to warm him up to vampires, then yes. That is exactly what I’m saying. I realize you weren’t looking for a partnership, but in this town, the gaming commissioner is the head honcho. They... well he, controls everything. And Mr. Weston is quite known for his anti-vampire stance.”

“Mr. Weston,” I repeat quietly. Going straight to the sore spot on a sensitive subject such as this seems irresponsible. It took hundreds of years for vampires to be able to walk about freely, openly as vampires, and for the holdouts to the cause, it was never a good idea to become confrontational. This is going to take some degree of finesse.

“Yes, Mr. James Weston. He is who you’re going to need approval from. All gaming licenses require his signature. Once you have that, we can move forward with the deal. But, until then, I can keep it pending under contract, so another buyer doesn’t swoop in.”

I lean forward, placing my palms on top of Melody’s hands. As she meets my gaze, I whisper, “You will make sure that no one else gets this property, right Melody?”

Under my compulsion, her eyes glaze over as she nods slowly. “I will make sure no one else gets this property.”

“Thank you, Melody.”

“Of course, Roman,” she mutters quietly, still under my artificial rapture.

“I will be in touch.” I stand up, grasping the folder with the blueprints and plans in it, and shove it back under my arm. I repeat the name of the obstacle in my way over and over as I make my way toward the exit. I need to find a way to turn this Mr. Weston into an ally, instead of a vampire fearing foe. As I walk out of the casino, the various voices around me are a stark reminder that humans are vain. Each one has a price, a weakness of some kind, a social ladder they need to climb, and when someone with my power, resources, and income comes along with a proposition, they buckle at the knees, begging to do business with me. It won’t take much for me to figure out how feeble Mr. Weston is. If anything, I’m more determined now than ever to buy this property. As far as I’m concerned, Mr. Weston has no idea what he’s in for.

2

Fiona

“He’s so hot,” my friend Lana says as the waiter walks by. Normally, behind my darkened sunglasses, I can stare freely, but the man in the all-too-tight white shorts with his matching polo carries the mark of a vampire. If I didn’t notice the symbol on his hand, the pale legs are a dead giveaway. No pun intended.

“He’s a vampire,” Leslie whispers as if she thinks he or the many people around us cannot hear her. “An abomination. My daddy says…”

This is where I tune her out. Leslie and her fake Southern accent, along with Lana, have been my best friends since middle school. We’re as close as sisters, but frenemies all the same. High society rich girls, living off our daddy’s trust funds, doing nothing but lounging by the pool during the day, and partying all night. At least, that is how my father’s new wife described us to her tea drinking, silver dyed haired women’s group. For the life of me, I will never understand why women choose to dye their hair gray. It seems cool but makes me wonder if they’re going through some early mid-life crisis. Surely, their boyfriends and husbands don’t appreciate it.