Vegas Profile Stories Novels & Stories

I cannot stay in a place he owns while I investigate him. Vegas is breathtaking and lively. Just like in the movies. Staring at all the colorful buildings as we pass by. The cab driver is friendly and can tell it is my first time here. He starts telling me where to find nice and cheap food to eat and what casino to visit and which to stay clear off. The reporter in me starts to pry into business I don’t belong. Questioning about all the back door stuff and sketchy stuff going on. The poor driver doesn't know how to answer me and keeps saying I don’t know why, are you a cop? "What about Lenkov?" I finally ask. A concern frown spreads on his forehead.

“Well you did, so keep your promise.” He sighed. As the road (and miles of cars) stretched out before us, I asked, “Why Vegas?” “Why not Vegas?” I shrugged. “No reason, I guess. I just didn’t see you as a Vegas kind of a guy, that’s all.” “What, not a gambler?” “Oh, you’re that, alright. No, I mean… leisure suits, sleazy gangsters, showgirls with pineapples on their heads…” “I think your idea of Vegas is a bit dated.”

“Are you enjoying your holiday here with this James person?” I chuckled. “I’m not really here on holiday,” I said. “My brother had a bit of trouble, and I’m here to help him. We’re both from Mystic Spring, New Hampshire.” “Oh, I see,” she said. “Las Vegas isn’t really a city where your dreams actually come true, is it? It’s more of a tourist city where men come to gamble and do prostitution.” She blushed and looked desperately angry at the same time. I understood where she was going. Sin City was famous for those two things, wasn’t it? Of course drugs as well.

desire, and also his nervousness about it. His name was Reggie; he had been born in Indiana, but had grown up in Jamaica. His folks managed a beach resort there until hurricane Ivan wiped it out in 2004. Reggie was 15 when they came back to the states and settled in Las Vegas. Reggie was completing college and working as a valet parking-attendant at one of the casinos when he was "discovered" by one of Fantasy's founding partners during a trip to the men's room. An accidental glance while standing at the urinals garnered the reaction, "Holy shit!" The man gave Reggie his card, and told him to drop by the office if he was "... looking to put that thing to work."

It's because they have known each other for a long time but how? Mobius and Professor encountered each other in a classic cafe maybe eighty years ago. Where Professor ordered black coffee without sugar, and Mobius ordered the same coffee. And it made Professor excited and he asked him what was the reason behind his order. Mobius smiled, 'I can ask the same thing. Well, I love that bitter taste of coffee. So I ordered.' "I like the reason. By the way, I am Professor son of Dr Miles Geneolla." 'Professor Miles… Wow! Your father is an inspiration for all of us. Myself Mobius, one of your father's students. It's nice to meet you Sir.'

he replied matter-of-factly, in a tone Autumn couldn't decipher if it was an actual compliment or not. The evening stretched on like that; tense, surreal, and charged with unspoken power. Vegas asked questions, listened intently, occasionally brushing against him while reaching for documents. Every touch felt calculated. Every word carried a double meaning. Autumn answered as professionally as he could, but inside he was a storm of fear, confusion, and reluctant fascination. As the city lights sparkled below them, Vegas suddenly leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “So, tell me about yourself. What would I want to know? You work for me anyway; I believe you could indulge me

I replied, not looking at him. “I already told you; you remind me of someone.” “And now that you know I’m not her, you can leave me alone.” He chuckled softly. “Could, but I’m not really the type to walk away from… interesting encounters.” There was something in his voice; cool, self-assured. It wasn’t cocky. It was practiced. Polished. Like charm was part of his DNA. I didn’t respond. Didn’t trust myself to. “Vegas isn’t really where people go to disappear,” he said after a beat. “It’s where they go to become someone else.”

"I need a word with Santiago Vega. It’ll take thirty seconds." "I know who Vega is, kid. You press?" "Sure," Isaac lied, bracing himself. "Pull the other one. Vega doesn't talk to press. Not before, during, or after he draws blood." "I know the drill," Isaac countered, having memorized the Enforcer’s dossier. "He’s a loner, he doesn't mate, he hates cameras, and he breaks the fingers of anyone who tries to track his scent. I’ve done my homework. This is vital."

Then suddenly: “Wait a minute! You can come with me!” I looked at him with a frown, and saw him smiling again. “To be honest… I’m actually a doctor. My car broke down along the road, and I had no choice but to take public transport. I didn’t want to wait around for it to be fixed and risk getting stuck here after dark. I’m Daniel Vegas. I own a coffee shop in a small town in Batangas. That’s actually where I’m going now. You know… I could hire you as a barista at my shop. If that’s alright with you?”

They stood there looking at us. ‘My name is Vegas. We got here because he asked each of us to go out on a date with him. So I said, "Why not? I'm single, my mate is probably dead, so why not." He took me to a nice restaurant, we ate and left. The next thing I knew, I got knocked over the head and woke up two days late in this ****ing cage. He told us if we would fight for him and not lose, we would be set free. He lied; the girls that lost got killed. We are the only ones left. The last girl they took down, she had a smart mouth on her, so they took her downstairs to break her.” “Yeah, about that. She's dead now,” Vegas shrugged her shoulders; she didn’t care; she was free now.