Page 64 of The Bratva King

The main floor is controlled chaos. Two dozen workers move through the space. The subfloor is finished, and the first wave of the gaming tables is being rolled in on heavy dollies and placed according to the floor plan I approved in March. The chandelier rigging is overhead. The wall sconces are being installed along the north wall. It smells like fresh paint and sweat. Not a pleasant mix, but it’s hot, and these guys are busting their asses.

Luke is taking it all in.

“What are those for?” He points at the gaming tables.

“Blackjack,” I tell him. “And poker. And baccarat.”

“What’s baccarat?”

“A card game.”

“Is it hard?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

He thinks about that. “Is it hard for you?”

Gabby coughs. I almost smile.

“No,” I say.

“Can you teach me blackjack?”

“Luke,” Gabby says.

“He can ask,” I tell her. I look at Luke. “When you’re older.”

He accepts this without argument, which I appreciate. We move into the space that will be the casino floor. He stops at the nearest table, which hasn’t been fully set up yet. The felt surface is still covered in protective plastic sheeting.

He puts one hand on the edge of the table and looks at it carefully. He runs his palm along the sleek surface, and I see he’s itching to touch the felt. I pull out my pocketknife, flick it open, and slice the plastic. I pull the protective layer back a few inches and nod.

Luke immediately touches it, rubbing his fingers across the felt.

And then he’s satisfied. He knows what it feels like, and that’s enough. I remember being a little older than him. My nanny constantly slapped my hands and told me to stop touching everything. To touch is to know.

Frank sees us and smiles.

“Checking on things,” I offer.

Frank gestures to someone behind me, then taps his head.

“I’m not going to wear a hard hat,” I tell him.

I know the rules, but I won’t fucking do it. We’ve had this conversation.

One of the guys brings a hat over and disappears. Frank holds it out to Luke. “Want to wear this?” he asks.

Luke looks at Gabby.

“Go for it.”

He looks at me and my bare head. “It doesn’t fit my head,” I say, “but I think you should.”

Gabby takes the hat and gently puts it on Luke’s head. I see the change in his face. He smiles.

“Thank the nice man,” Gabby says.

Luke doesn’t look at Frank.