Marked by the Alpha Male Pimp

“I’m sorry, sir.”

The dealer reaches out, taking my chips off the blackjack table.

I wince, inhaling the thick scent of cigarette smoke and high-end perfume. My fingers tremble as I slide the last of my chips forward. This was supposed to be a glamorous vacation, but I’m getting destroyed. I already lost the cash I brought with me. I had to hit the ATM, and I’m on the verge of losing that too.

This is spiraling out of control.

If I lose this hand, then I’m done. I’ll cut the losses.

“Hey, we’re all losing.” An older man in a sleek blazer sits beside me, offering a weak smile.

“It’s about to turn around. I can feel it!” I slam my fist on the table.

“Is this your first time in Vegas?”

“Yeah. I came out here for spring break.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Bailed at the last minute. I didn’t want to cancel, so I came alone.”

A sense of desperation hangs while the cards are dealt. My heart pounds. My palms sweat.

A 10 and a 6.

Ugh.

I hit. The dealer gives me a king.

“Fucking hell!” I stand and roll my eyes while the dealer takes the last of my money.

“Maybe go hit the strip clubs. Clear your mind a bit.” The man pats me on the back.

“Yeah…sure.”

I leave the table, my stomach heavy with regret. I just blew the living allowance my parents sent me. Looks like I’ll be eating ramen for the rest of the semester. I’m sure my roommates at school will get a kick out of this.

Yeah, I should’ve just hit the strip clubs instead of gambling. At least I’d get to see some tits. Maybe that’s what I need. Hell, where are the hookers this town is famous for?

You can find anything in Las Vegas…if you’ve got the money for it.

Upbeat pop music swirls while I walk the casino floor. This is the Bagaggio—one of the nicest resorts on the Strip. Famous for its nightly laser shows out front, it’s a hotspot for wealthy tourists and celebrities.

As a college student living off family money, I probably should’ve picked somewhere cheaper to gamble. I flew too close to the sun here. I got burned.

My feet carry me atop polished marble tiles while I scan the surroundings. Glittering crystal chandeliers hang overhead, casting light onto tables and slot machines. At the edge of the casino, I spot a secluded area—an unassuming corner with a large set of oak doors hanging open. Swaths of gold fabric cascade from the ceiling, framing the entrance.

It’s a bar.

Maybe I’ll grab a drink while I plan the rest of my weekend. I can call my parents and ask for more money. They’ll be livid, but they won’t turn me down. It’ll be a rough conversation though. Some liquid courage will help.

As I step past the wooden doors, the world morphs. The electric atmosphere of the casino gives way to a subdued, refined aura. The space is dark and sultry, bathed in the amber glow of candlelight and vintage lamps. Well-dressed men lounge at tables alongside much younger women. They wear skimpy dresses and fine jewelry. The men speak in hushed tones, their faces framed with cigar haze.

The music here is quiet and calm. It puts my nerves at ease.

“What can I get ya?” A bartender approaches as I take a seat.

“Just a gin and tonic.”

“Sure thing.”

He preps my drink while I take in the surroundings. I can’t shake an odd feeling. It’s so dark in here…like this place was designed for having an affair.

“You look lost.” A man slides into the seat beside me.

His voice is deep and relaxed. A crisp white dress shirt adorns his tall, burly frame. The sleeves and chest are pulled taut, highlighting his muscularity. Looks like the fabric might rip.

My eyes glide over his arms. The sleeves are rolled back, showcasing a glittering gold watch around his wrist. His upper buttons are undone, exposing a gold chain atop his smooth chest.

And his face…he can’t be much older than I am.

Light stubble on his jawline complements his sleek, flawlessly manicured brown hair. His amber eyes are large and kind. His sharp nose and rosy lips exude a sense of refinement. He’s the type of guy I’d expect to see on a fashion runway.

“What? You talking to me?” I glance around.

“Yeah.” He stifles a laugh. “You’re all alone…out of place.”

“You’re not exactly here with an entourage either.” My brows furrow.

“Fair.” He grins. “Hey, I’m Brock. What’s your name?”

“Uh, Tanner.”

“Alright, Tanner. Let me buy your drink. That way neither of us will be alone anymore.”

“Oh…um, alright.” My eyes widen. “That’s pretty generous. Did you have a good day at the casino?”

“Nah, man. I don’t gamble. The house always wins. They’ll take you for a ride.”

He passes a heavy metal credit card to the bartender. His flashy watch forces my eyes to glide along his heavy, hairy forearms. Fuck. This dude is ripped. I wish I had a body like that. And the way he’s dressed…why isn’t he with a date? Seems weird he’d be here alone.

“So…um, if you don’t gamble, what brings you here?”

“Work.”

“Oh! You work for the casino?”

“Not quite.”

He leans back and looks me up and down. It makes me a bit uncomfortable. Is this dude…gay? Is he coming on to me? No…he doesn’t have that vibe. I can’t get a good read on him.

“I run a business. Vegas is a special place. People think gambling is the way to make money here, but there are other opportunities. This place can be a goldmine if you play your cards right. Hell, I bet you could cash in too.”

“Ok, you’ve got me curious.” I lean forward, a smile creeping across my face. “What’s the business? How can I make some money?”

“You know about promoters, right? High-end clubs want an attractive clientele, and they’re willing to pay for it. Promoters get paid to scout hot girls and convince them to come party.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. So that’s what you do? Manage models?”

“Sort of.” He leans in, his voice dropping low. “I don’t work for clubs. I don’t scout girls either. I manage dudes.”

“Wait. What?!” I pull back. “Are you…gay?”

“No. Not at all.” He laughs. “I’m all about the pussy. In fact, my clients are straight too.”

“Your ‘clients’? Wait, do you mean…?”