Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
And, well, it was just kind of creepy. Long, often abandoned. Some part of me was always half-expecting hands to reach out from one of the doors I passed, grab me, and pull me inside where no one would hear me scream.
Paranoid? Maybe.
But, well, Frank and the men he surrounded himself with were not good people. It was smart to be aware. And not to dilly-dally.
I turned down a side hall and, finally, opened a door to the piano lounge.
It was genuinely one of my favorite places in the world. This room was probably the only reason I’d stuck with this job as long as I had.
It harkened back to a different time: to cigar smoke filling the air, men in boxy, broad-shouldered suits, and women in velvet evening gowns or wiggle dresses.
It was one of the smaller performance rooms at the casino, but it was sprawling for a piano lounge.
The woods were all espresso brown with tarnished gold and brass metals that had long since earned their patina, along with oxblood accents. Low tables and booths featured small golden lamps. To the side was a sprawling bar with wood polished to a sheen, leather stools, and glassware that caught the light like stolen glances.
It smelled like warm brandy, worn leather, and citrus peels from fresh cocktails.
The low stage was draped in black velvet curtains. The old piano sat toward the side, polished between each shift. And my golden retro microphone with its wide slats stood waiting for me.
It was the kind of room where conversations ran low and intimate, where everyone looked better in the lighting, where eye contact lingered a beat too long, where someone was falling in love quietly.
This place knew heartbreak and poured another drink anyway.
It was a space where time slowed, secrets surfaced, and the piano seemed to sing your name.
I breathed deeply, taking it all in, not sure how many more nights like this I would have.
I nodded toward the bartender as he sliced lemon peels with practiced efficiency while I made my way to the stage.
The piano player lowered onto his seat with a wince on his weathered face.
Arguably, Archie was too old to continue doing four or five sets a night. His arthritic hands occasionally hit a false note and he could be seen on breaks either icing or using hand heaters to ease the aches in his joints.
He wasn’t a chatty guy, so I had no idea if he was still working because he couldn’t afford to retire… or if he still wasn’t ready to give up the stage.
Luckily, I didn’t mind the mishaps. And Frank didn’t care about the music, just having an attractive woman on the stage with a sultry voice.
I moved behind the microphone, wiggled my shoulders and hips, loosened my jaw, and warmed up my voice. The whole process was meditative, chasing away the anxiety I felt about my boss, my job, my rent, and my whole damn future.
Because for just a few hours, nothing mattered but the music, the lyrics, the sway of my hips, and the rapt attention of the audience.
It was my perfect escape.
Archie started to play a soft song, and I hummed along, still warming up as the doors opened and the first few guests arrived.
They made their way to their tables, offering me soft smiles as they sat down.
Once the tables were mostly full and the doors slid closed, Archie played the first song of our set, and my voice filled the air.
It was just another normal night.
Until, of course, it wasn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
Milo
I hadn’t been to Atlantic City since my senior year in high school, when a bunch of my friends and I piled too deep into a car, drove down, and used our fake IDs to get absolutely plastered.
The memories of the casinos, strip clubs, and partying were blurry at best. But I distinctly remembered waking up on the beach, sand in my eyes, up my nose, in my mouth, with no shirt, no shoes, and a tattoo on the back of my neck that my mother still gave me shit about.
I didn’t know how much free time I was going to have on this job, nor how long I would be in AC, but I wouldn’t mind the chance to let loose a little, have some fun memories to bring back to Navesink Bank with me.
The town looked more or less like I remembered. The same way Vegas did in the daylight, honestly. Which was a hell of a lot less glamorous than it looked at sunset and in the dark. But it had the usual busy beach destination charm that I was familiar with.
There were plenty of niche tourist shops, but many appeared closed, and it was hard to tell which ones were boarded up for the season and which were closed for good.