~The following short story series is based off the Mafia Tik Tok trend. Majority of mafia characters were brought into existence by their creators therefore all credit goes to them. Special thanks to those who gave me permission to incorporate your characters into the stories, I hope to do your characters justice~
El Dorado. In the past, it was known as the mythical city of gold, where adventurers and explorers alike sought its riches. Now, the closest representative to the legend is found in the city of Chicago— as a high-end casino.
The VIP floor itself held a level of luxury that showed where the real fortune of the casino came from. From politicians to CEOs of big-name companies, the majority accumulated here in the balcony lounge overlooking the large gambling hall below, chatting by the gold, glass bar with signature drinks or merely making new connections at the high stakes tables. Those who didn’t enjoy the noise of community in the lounge preferred the large, secured and secluded rooms for private games or business deals. It was guaranteed that whatever happened in these rooms, legal or otherwise, stayed in these rooms.
In a private area further hidden in the back of the VIP floor, the boss of the Black Royales lounged in a leather chair, resting a crystal glass of whiskey in his hand against the armrest. He watched disinterestedly at the mess before him.
“P-Please,” spat the trash from the floor, “I didn’t know-”
One of the nearest soldiers grabbed the beaten man by his hair to hold him steady while another swung a metal rod to his face. When the soldier released his hold, the man collapsed further to the ground, sputtering blood and spasming.
The boss adjusted the various intricate rings around his fingers, immune to the pleading words and sounds of the broken soul before him. “The Senator is a very important contact of mine. He and his wife were to be treated with the best service and security. So when his wife’s belongings got stolen under my roof, it made me look incapable...unreliable.”
His tone remained calm and casual, a chilling contrast to where the conversation would lead. “I ordered you to find the culprit and bring him to me. Instead, you let him escape then lied to me. Now, I have to not only clean up the mess of what the thief left behind but the mess you’re leaving on my floor.”
“But the purse...was returned.” As the man on the ground strained to meet the eyes of the Boss through blood and swelling eyes.
He was ignored. With a wave of his hand, the soldiers continued. The Boss in the chair reached for his drink but paused when one of his security details approached him, leaning down close to his ear.
“Sir, we have a problem,” stated the head of security. “We have guests with suspiciously high winning streaks.”
“Just two, sir. One a frequent flyer, the other a woman,” he answered and watched as a slow smile crossed the Boss’s face. “What would you have me do?”
He stood, leaving his drink on the chair in exchange for his jacket, allowing it to rest across his shoulders, “Bring the frequent flyer here to have the men handle him. I’ll deal with the woman.”
The downtown casino attracted persons of every social status who seek the thrill of potential lifetime prosperity. Even with the possibility of significant loss, the casino itself offers a taste of the high life. It welcomes guests with elaborate waterfalls on either side of a grand, gold staircase at the entrance, pouring in from the high ceilings above and cascading over painted gold and glass boulders. Enormous statues of Aztec warriors stand as columns along either side of the wide hall leading to the gambling room, representing power. Every detail of gold brick, every oversized crystal chandelier, even the quality of the utensils from glassware to plates, was meant to transport the gambling patron into a whole other world.
In the main gambling hall, known as the Temple, everyone bustled around the tables of roulette, craps, and poker. All were cheering and holding a drink, dressed in their finest evening gowns and suits, everything to pretend that they walked like royalty. Servers weaved their way through the clusters of excited patrons, passing drinks and taking orders, skillfully poised in white shirts and gold vests as they dodged the rowdiest of persons, never spilling a drop. The dealers held their own air, shuffling and dealing the cards with lavish ease, riling up the players and onlookers around them. Not a moment of silence could be heard over the live band that played swing music in the dance hall, filtering through the speakers to the other rooms in the casino.
Alice Denton sat at a Black Jack table in the far corner of the crowded casino by herself, casually sipping her drink as she played her hand and watched the other guests around her.
“Win,” called the dealer as she won the bet, but all Alice did was nod and take the entirety of her winnings and place them in the box for the next round. While she waited for the dealer to collect and shuffle, Alice went back to observing the other tables drowned by people.
Three security guards around the roulette tables, four more by the entrance to the hall.
She came here to ease her boredom and escape her suffocating condo, but now Alice found that the lively space solved nothing. It didn’t help that just earlier that day, her chief editor of the National Herald rejected another story she spent weeks obtaining. I nearly got killed when I found the human auction room in the basement of the museum. There was even enough evidence against the museum director for the police to make an arrest. Alice took another sip of her drink as she spun the chair back to her cards, checking the dealer’s one face-up card before tapping for a hit. The dealer dealt the card then flipped his face down revealing eighteen while she beat him at twenty. Alice finished her drink while the man counted out her winnings, not even knowing how much she’s won at this point, her gaze returning to the noisy scene.
The old man at the poker table has two undercover guards, both armed. Then we have the drunk getting more and more aggravated by the roulettes. Security will be on him by the time I leave, better go around the crabs table. No longer interested, Alice set down her empty glass on a passing tray, collecting her earnings and her belongings. When she turned, she nearly collided with a guest she didn’t notice approach.
“Done already?” spoke the man as he steadied her. He adjusted the jacket over his shoulder, taking it and setting it behind the back of a chair in a flourished movement, the black cross earrings swaying with his movements. Alice stared over at the man who took his seat beside her, a server at his side instantly to take his order of a whiskey on the rocks before placing his bet in the box. I didn’t notice him approach, he was nowhere near when I was looking around earlier.
Alice gave a small, polite smile. “I got bored playing by myself. I thought I’d give the other tables a spin.” I’m leaving.
The man returned her smile with one of his own, the black hair framing his face making the expression almost charming. His seemed kind, but the aura he emitted under that made it obvious he was dangerous. Mafia, she thought instantly and looking closer, his appearance made it all the more prominent. The rings gracing his fingers, the silk vest and bowtie so finely custom made, the choice of dark colors to add intimidation, everything pointed to the fact that Alice spoke to a man she shouldn’t involve herself with.
“Sit down. Play a round with me.” It was an order not a suggestion.
Alice kept her face neutral. She should be more fearful, more cautious, but she couldn’t find herself to care, to react. Nothing scared her anymore; she could even go as far as accepting the prospect of death...but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t put up a bit of a fight. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve bet all I wanted to at this table.”
My best route is to leave through the main entrance. There’s also an emergency exit in the dance hall and one through the back kitchen on the side of the bar in case I have to make a break for it.
He smirked, leaning back in his chair to watch her as if knowing exactly what she was thinking. Despite herself, her heart fluttered. He’s handsome I’ll give him that. A real devil in disguise. ”What’s your name sweetheart?”
Wouldn’t you like to know. She almost said but figured it best to test the waters.
“Leona,” she lied, and he continued to stare at her for a long time before seeming to accept her lie and offered again for her to retake her seat with the wave of his hand.
“Leona, I insist. Stay and play a round with me.” Again, it didn’t sound like a choice and when two men in suits stepped up on either side of her, Alice sighed to herself and retook her seat. Her playing partner snapped for a waiter who rushed over, “Another drink for the lady.”
Alice had been about to decline, preferring to keep a sound mind, but the waiter had already left and returned with a refill of her last cocktail. She didn’t touch the drink and reached for her winnings to place her bet only to be stopped by the man beside her. His hand slipped into his vest, pulling out a wad of cash. Alice quirked an eyebrow.
“I’ll pay for Miss Leona’s bet.” He spoke coolly, handing the dealer the cash who counted it and placed it in the box before her. Her playing partner didn’t break his gaze as the cards were dealt. Alice took a peek at her cards then her dealer’s cards. She tapped twice to double down. Her partner briefly looked at his hand looking confident and relaxed in his seat, tapping once for another card. You look calm but I can tell how close you’re watching me. What? Does he want a picture? The dealer’s hand didn’t match her hand of 21, winning the bet.
“Black Jack,” announced the dealer nervously, eyeing the man beside her.
“From the look of your earnings, you’ve got some luck on your side.” Said the man with an impressed smile, though it felt more like she was being accused, Alice gave a casual shrug. I’m not cheating guy if that’s what you think.
“I wouldn’t call it luck, just good sense of when to stay in and when to pull out,” Alice responded uninterested. “I don’t play to win.”
“The point of gambling is to win, isn’t it?” he asked curiously but that intense stare in his eyes was replaced with amusement.
“It is, but I could care less. For me it’s to ease boredom,” she smirked then collected her things once more, “I appreciate the drink and the game Mr.-?”
“Dean. Call me Dean,” he filled in.
“Thank you for the game and drink Mr. Dean, but I think it’s about time I get home, I’m suddenly feeling exhausted,” Alice tried to say as carefully as possible so as not to offend him. Thankfully he accepted her intention to leave this time with a chuckle.
“A pleasure playing with you, Ms. Leona.”
Alice left her seat and walked through the center of the two burly men who had stood watch around her earlier. She hadn’t made it far from the table when Dean called out to her, “Ms. Leona.”
She almost didn’t stop at the unfamiliar name. Alice turned around and the smile Dean wore was haunting. “Remember my face, I intend to be seeing you again.”
Alice blinked a few times, registering his words as she slowly began walking toward the cash station once more. Off to the side, her eye caught the older gentleman she noticed earlier being hauled off with his two guards, his face deathly pale. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Dean who winked before strolling after the group of men, the dangerous aura following him. My luck is nothing but shitty.
***Thanks for reading! If you liked this short story please give it a vote! Don’t forget to comment and share as it means so much to know what my readers think! File 2 is underway! If you’re interested in Dean check out his creator on Tik Tok (@benkro_tv)***Star
Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks, A.J RoszkowiakWrite a Review