The roar of the casino floor is nothing compared to the cacophony inside my head. I stand in the corner, my back pressed against the wall as I look out into the crowd of people spending their money—practically shoving it into my pockets without even knowing it. There is movement everywhere—people talking, lungs breathing, blood flowing. I feel overstimulated by it, and it’s not because I’m some introvert who can’t stand the sight of other people. I’m struggling because my body is starting to feel weak again, as it does when it’s trying to get my attention—when it wants me to … eat.
My head throbs every time a slot machine lever is pulled. Each time one of these people cheers for themselves, happy that they just won a few dollars of their money back instead of seeing it swallowed into a bottomless pit, I want to turn around and ram my head through the drywall. I hear the shuffling of cards all around me, drinks being poured at the numerous bars, and the stacking of poker chips before they’re tossed together in a pile atop green felt. The casino is teeming with life that makes my jaw tighten. My throat quivers when a waitress walks by carrying a tray of drinks, a thin vein running behind her ear until it disappears beneath her collar. My breath hitches as the details make the thirst intensify.
“What’s good, Mr. Goddard?” a bartender with light brown skin and cornrows says as he walks past me, smiling hard. He’s wearing a black and white suit that fits him well, and his heartbeat is rapid because he’s moving as quickly as he can across the casino, trying to reach the bar on the far side before his shift starts. I’m not a floor manager, so I don’t care if he’s late to work or not. All I can think about is the sound of his heartbeat—the surge of blood coursing through his veins.
“What up, Jashon?” I say with a quick head nod as he passes me. He nods back, as is customary, and then keeps rolling, damn near jogging to make it on time. I swallow hard and take a deep breath, my temple aching.
I’m not good. I’ve waited too long. My dark skin probably looks paler, as if my melanin has a light layer of ash over it, and if I don’t focus, the eyes will give me away. When I’m this hungry, someone always sees the red in them. Without fail, a passerby will do a double take, staring at me like they’re trying to see into my soul, only to find that I don’t have one. Their expression shifts from uncaring, to curiosity, to fear in only a matter of seconds. That’s when I know my eyes are telling on me—whispering my secret to people as they walk by.
I’ve been on the casino floor for a couple of hours now, which isn’t outside the norm because it’s my casino floor. I own Black Coins Casino in downtown Philly, and have for a long time. It’s the perfect job, with most clientele coming in after the sun goes down and staying until it rises again. Owning a casino lets me sleep during the day and be my most active at night, and nobody bats an eye. I’m simply a night owl, and that’s exactly how I want the world to see me. I stay in corners and mind my business, hugging shadows and avoiding questions, and it keeps people at a distance. It’s perfect, because the more space I have between myself and other people, the better.
“Oh, excuse me,” a woman’s soft voice says just as she bumps into me, nearly spilling her drink on the white blazer I’m wearing. Once I see that my top isn’t ruined, my eyes move up from the drink to her eyes. They’re brown and gorgeous, just like her skin tone, and they linger on me longer than they need to before she turns around and continues walking. I keep watching her, waiting for her to look back. At first, I think it won’t happen, but then her head whips around and she eyes me again, this time with a flirtatious smile. I lick my bottom lip before the corners of my mouth curl into a smile of their own, then she turns around again and walks away.
But it’s too late. I got her.
The thought of it makes my body hot, even though I know my skin is cool to the touch. That smile was an invitation, and I accept. I move from my spot in the corner and follow in her footsteps, walking slowly as if I’m nonchalant when I’m anything but, until I see her seated at a slot machine all by herself. I don’t know if she has friends close by or if she came alone, which means I need to move quickly, just in case her people are nearby.
Her hair is in a braided bun, exposing the soft, tawny flesh of her neck, and she smells like a descendant of heaven in a black bodycon dress. It’s funny, because I’m a descendant of hell—a demon who wants a short dance with an angel. When I approach her, she doesn’t see me coming. I even manage to sit down next to her before she looks over and realizes I’m there. Once we make eye contact, she never looks back at the screen on the slot machine.
“Hi,” I say with a flirtatious smile.
“Hey,” she replies.
“I don’t mean to interrupt you, but when you bumped into me back there, I couldn’t just let that go. That was a close call with that drink.”
Her eyebrows go up as her smile fades. “Oh. Wow. Yeah, I guess it was. I apologize.”
“For what—almost spilling a drink on me, or for not staying and talking to me?” When her forehead wrinkles in confusion, I keep my smirk. “I wasn’t worried about the drink. I just wanted you to stay and talk to me.”
Finally, her smile returns, brighter this time. “Oh yeah?”
“You could ruin the blazer for all I care,” I tell her. “I was much more concerned about my night being ruined if I didn’t get to talk to you. What’s your name?”
With newfound liveliness spilling from her eyes, she answers, “Yvette.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” I say, extending my hand for her to shake. “I’m Amari.”
She reaches for my hand, and the second she takes it, I increase the intensity in my gaze as we lock eyes.
“It’s nice to meet you, Amari,” she says, unaware of the grip I have on her.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say. “I don’t know about you, Yvette, but I really think it would be better if we left this noisy casino. Don’t you think?”
Unblinking, Yvette slowly nods her head. “Yeah, I think we should leave. This casino really is noisy.”
“No doubt,” I agree as my head throbs again, the thirst ratcheting up now that I’m so close to what I need. “I have a private elevator over there. You should follow me to it so we can get outta here. Right?”
“Absolutely,” she says.
I nod as I stand with her hand still in mine. “Let’s go.”
When I finally break eye contact with Yvette, she’s already standing up to leave the slot machine behind like she was never interested in it. To her, following me out of here is something she really wants to do. She probably thinks it was her idea to leave.
I can hear her heart speeding up as we start to walk, still hand-in-hand. Anticipation floods our veins for different reasons. She’s excited to find out what’s about to happen. I’m teeming with anticipation because I already know.
We weave through groups of people, dodging waitresses and patrons until we reach the middle of the casino and step in front of gray elevator doors. An eye scanner to the left flashes a red light into my eye as I lean forward and stare into it, and turns green when it recognizes me. The doors slide open, and Yvette and I step inside. I turn around and press the button to take us up, and smirk as I stare out at the bustling casino floor, my mouth filling with saliva just as the doors hiss and slide closed, sealing the two of us inside. Now there’s no escape. Yvette is a fly caught in a web, and I am the spider coming to feed.
