vigorli

Author: Lara
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: fiction fiction fiction not real fiction
Note: This is the last chapter I already have written. I hope to write new chapters this week.

THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS
Seven

“So,” Sean said, pushing away his soup bowl and wiping his mouth. “You gonna tell the others about Orlando?”
“Why should I?” Viggo asked. “They don’t need to know, and it has nothing to do with the job.” Sean raised an eyebrow. “Okay, it has SOMETHING to do with it, but not much.”
“May I ask what happened?”
Viggo sighed, pushing his linguini around on the plate. “I dunno. He got upset about the fact that I went to jail.”
Sean spit out his wine. “Of COURSE he did, Vig. That can’t be all.”
“I lied a bit. Told him I wasn’t in the business anymore after the last time.”
Sean shook his head. “Lying’s not good in a relationship.”
“I KNOW that, Bean,” Viggo growled. “This isn’t about Orlando.”
“Of course not,” Sean said. “Good poem, though.”
“Lyrics,” Viggo said as he pulled a folder out of the desk. “They’re lyrics.” He opened the folder and pulled out a picture of the Oasis. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had the chance to get the real plans for the places.”
“Peter?” Sean asked. Viggo nodded. “He’s still at the Records Office?” Viggo nodded again. “I thought he was gonna be a director or something.”
“He’s been working on it, doing some B horror movies and the like,” Viggo said, impatient to get back to the matter at hand. “The Oasis holds the entrance to the main vault, the one that holds all the dough from all three casinos. We need to get in here, get into the vault, and get out…with the money.”
“Believe in miracles much?” Sean asked, sighing.

David Wenham leaned against the cement pillar, watching the Bellagio fountains move in time with the classical music. He sighed, drawing deeply on his cigarette. He knew smoking was no good for a dancer, but he wasn’t a dancer anymore. A teacher. A teacher of spoiled brats whose parents paid for them to prance around the stage.
“David.”
A voice behind him made him jump. He relaxed when he saw the speaker. “God, Beanie, scare me to death.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk earlier,” Sean said, taking the cigarette from David and inhaling.
“How’d you know I was out here?” David asked.
Sean shrugged. “The water’s the best dancer in town. I knew you’d find it.”
David blushed slightly. “How’ve you been?”
“Can’t complain. Got a job in an auction house. I seem to have picked up quite a bit of knowledge on the value of antiques,” Sean said with a wink. “You?”
“Dance teacher,” David said. Sean snorted. “I know.”
“Want to go for a drink?”
David looked at the face he still loved for a long moment, then mirrored Sean’s shrug. “Sure. Why not.”