Chapter 15: 15. Going To The Casino Just To Spot A Lot Of Whores In Bunny Outfits

He spent the afternoon doing things that needed doing. The goal is to improve his new life in the country, making it even better and smoother.

He opened a proper bank account at a branch two streets over, which the system had already confirmed held his starter balance and which the very organized bank employee accepted without any complications, because Mike Hawk’s documentation was immaculate in ways that Michael Hawking’s never would have been again.

He also purchased several pieces of furniture, including a proper desk and a chair that wasn’t borrowed from the kitchen table. He bought some items for the walls, as empty walls in an apartment tend to raise questions.

Over the years, he had discovered that a room that appeared lived-in was easier to maintain than one that felt temporary.

And then he was back by four.

Petricia was locking the supply closet at the end of the first-floor hallway when he came in through the front door, and she glanced back over her shoulder when she heard him.

"Good afternoon," she said, back to landlady tone, but not quite as firm as the morning version.

"Good afternoon," Mike said. "So... the plumber?"

"Done by three," she said. "Unit nine is fine."

"How’s the weather out?"

She had asked the question casually, and he responded in the same manner, informing her that it was warm, clouds were moving in from the east, and rain was likely by the weekend. She nodded, finished locking the closet, and said she had to get dinner started.

"Do you want what we have for dinner, Mike?" Petrica asked. "We always have leftovers, and of course... it’s not a bad one, but I always make dinner a lot, you know what I mean..."

"It’s fine, Petricia," Mike said. "I’ll probably order in."

"Oh, that’s great... there’s a decent Thai place on Renwick Street that delivers," she said, which was information she’d offered without being asked.

He filed it under progress.

"Thanks," he said. "I’ll try that for sure."

She went toward the apartment, and he went upstairs. Somewhere between the lobby and the top of the stairs, he heard the office door open again and then close, quieter than usual.

He doesn’t give a fuck just because he wants to order dinner from the Thai place on Renwick Street.

And she was right, it was the first dinner that satisfied Mike’s stomach.

...

Thursday arrived with Gerald’s voice in the hallway at 7:30 AM, which told Mike he had come home at some point on Wednesday without making enough noise to register and was now leaving again, probably for the fishing trip he’d mentioned or some morning errand.

Mike heard Petricia’s voice, lower and shorter, the kind of response that gives a person just enough to work with and nothing more. The front door opened and closed.

"Did he just fucking leave his wife again...?"

"Who wasted a smoking hot wife like her? Like, goddamn... I’ll be fucking her up until she starts breaking for almost 24 hours."

"What a fucking bum."

He lay in bed for another ten minutes, listening to the building wake up around him.

At 9:15, a message from Petricia came in through his phone, which still surprised him slightly because she keeps trying to have a conversation with him until Mike starts to think that maybe she is already frustrated because of her husband’s absence.

"Gerald is going to the casino again tonight. He mentioned you might join him."

Mike read it.

"Oh yeah... I do want to go to the casino once, to see what his husband is doing, and also to see if I can find some women who are taken there."

"I know this isn’t really my place to ask," she sent, after a pause, "but if you’re going... can you just make sure he doesn’t stay too long?"

"He doesn’t know when to stop... I know that’s a strange thing to ask a tenant."

Mike typed: "It’s not strange at all."

"I can do that."

Three seconds passed. "Thank you."

He put the phone down and looked at the window.

Petricia sending him that message was not the action of a landlady managing a tenant relationship. That was the action of a woman who had decided, without saying so clearly, that he was someone she could ask things of.

The desire level notification came in almost silently.

[DESIRE LEVEL: 55/100]

Mike read it and moved on.

"She’s raising it herself, not me..."

[YOU STILL ENGAGE IT]

"Shut the fuck up. I have a casino to prepare for."

...

Gerald knocked on his door at 7 PM, dressed in the typical manner that men adopt when they want to appear as though they aren’t heading to a place their wives would disapprove of.

Slightly too casual. Slightly too cheerful.

Mike opened the door, already dressed like a gentleman. "Yo."

"Good evening, Mike! Ready to gamble?" Gerald said.

"Fuck it, let’s go," Mike said.

They took a cab because Gerald didn’t like driving when he planned to drink, which was apparently a distinction he made clearly between himself and actual gambling addicts, and which he mentioned twice in the first five minutes of the ride.

"It’s just a thing to do," Gerald said. "For stress." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

"Right," Mike said.

"Petricia used to come sometimes, back in the beginning."

Mike looked out the window. "She doesn’t anymore?"

"She says it’s not her thing." Gerald shrugged. "More of a solo activity now."

"Petricia did mention you go a lot," Mike said.

Gerald made a slightly evasive gesture. "A few times a week, and that doesn’t count as a lot."

"Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday is a lot," Mike said, neutrally. "Especially if you have a wife that’s waiting for you."

Gerald was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I know, but I can’t do anything about it."

"Does that concern you?"

Another pause. "No," Gerald said, and he said it with the honesty of a man who didn’t have the energy to pretend otherwise, at least not in a cab.

The rest of the ride was quiet enough to be comfortable. Mike watched the city go by and thought about Petricia making dinner for herself in the apartment below his, probably watching whatever she watched on that television with the low sound and thinking something she had not yet decided to think clearly.

’This fucking asshole needs a good beating.’

...

The casino Gerald had mentioned was not the kind that appears in movies about Las Vegas. It was the kind that appears in the background of conversations at a neighborhood bar.

It was clean enough and proper enough. The kind of place where the lighting was designed to be neither too bright nor too dark and the carpet had a pattern specifically chosen to disguise the passage of time.

’No wonder he likes to spend all his useless nights here...’ Mike thought while looking at tons of sexy ladies in bunny girl outfits. ’Look at those fucking whores...’

’I fucking bet they’re used... like, what kind of a man are you to have a liking towards USED-UP women with a disgusting thought wanting to fuck them?!’

’But still... some virgins justified it... disgusting.’

Mike continued to ignore those whores and focused on a bar that took up most of the east wall, with three blackjack tables, a poker room off to the side, and a bank of slot machines near the back that Gerald headed toward with the comfortable directness of someone who knew exactly which machine he preferred.

’And there he goes...’