Paris wandered through the open area of the empty casino between rows of machines and tables. He could imagine the sounds of the slot machines clinking and card sharks calling a bet. Even after several decades unused, the casino was clean—though the air was a little stale. One dodgy old caretaker had seen to the place for nearly a quarter of a century. The largest hotel and casino in the Midwest had been abandoned after the plague had killed the global economy. Was City M ready for it to return?
“It’s all structurally sound,” Oscar, Paris’s solicitor, told him. “We’ve had experts sweep the entire building for signs of cracks or leftover radiation. Heating and cooling systems need to be updated, but there’s plenty of room on the roof for solar panels and even an eco-garden if you want to go that route. The aquarium is solid. Though I can’t imagine it will be easy to fill since the coastal cities have no way to ship any aquatic life safely here. Or if they have any to spare. The cross-country trains just aren’t that reliable. You could put stuff from the restaurant supply in there. Give those feeder fish a better life and have something to feed your guests in case of a food shortage.”
Paris swallowed back a snort. The tubes were meant to house dolphins and sharks, not shrimp and salmon. Though the idea had merit. “What about all the machines? They’re old, but do they still work?”
“More than old. Vintage. Some as much as a century old, but they still work. The caretaker said he tested the machines every year and even has a guy who would come in and fix them if they broke. Technology is old, but that might be a draw.”
Paris nodded. Just beyond the edge of what was now City M’s red-light district, the casino had loomed large and intimidating for ages. No one wanted it because of the size and the proximity to the many whorehouses that blighted the edge of the city. Only with the popularity of the Hidden Gem had the area become more of a tourist attraction than the slum it used to be. Paris had been eyeing the building for years, contemplating options, dreaming up possibilities. The place needed some fixes—lights and carpeting; all the rooms would need to be renovated, and the kitchen would need new appliances—but he could almost feel the energy rolling through the place. Casinos were something he’d only read about in stories. Sure there were a few in the coastal cities, but when did he have time to go there?
The attached hotel had potential, and he would change one of the many meeting hall areas into a series of rooms for a spa, another into a grand ballroom, and then expand the dining room. The tax benefits to the city and possible tourist draw had pushed the senate to approve his request to buy the place. “Is the no windows a casino thing? Is it safe?”
Oscar shrugged. “As safe as any old building. I guess they didn’t do many windows because they wanted people to lose track of time and keep gambling. Plenty of secure doors and escape routes but not much natural light.”
Paris would have all the glass—windows, mirrors, even the sanitary glass in the buffet—changed to safety computer monitoring, a minor change that wouldn’t interrupt the old-world feel. Some paint and a wise choice of decor and he could convince people inside the casino that the plague had never happened and the war had just been a bad dream.
“When does the next bunch of refugees arrive?” Oscar asked him.
Refugees was a nice way of putting it. They were all rescues from the South. Some spirited away from the pray-the-gay-away camps, others from slavery. This newest batch would be almost a dozen. He hoped they all made it, though the trek was long and hard. There was always the possibility of bandits getting them and selling them off to the whorehouses along the roads, or even the South tracking them and dragging them back. Paris promised them a better life. Always found them all jobs even if they were just as contract companions. At least the whores at the Gem got health insurance, regular breaks, and decent pay. The roadside whorehouses were little more than slavers.
“They arrive next week. I’ve got a handful of them picked out for the Gem. A few of my contacts have positions open and contracts available for those who don’t fit the role.”
“This is ideal, then. You’ll have plenty to choose from to staff everything from the card tables to the kitchen, and room for more rescues.”
Paris agreed. Everyone would be trained so long as they were willing. Those who were unwilling got no sympathy from him. They could work their way up from the bottom, but only if they tried. “Let’s get the paperwork signed and begin renovations. I want this place open by the end of the year.” Six months wasn’t that long to complete renovations, but he’d done the Gem in only two. It was a matter of knowing who to talk to so the job got done.
One more legacy that Paris hoped to leave behind for all those he’d rescued throughout the years. If the casino generated income like he hoped, it would be self-sustaining and need more than a couple dozen well paid employees. He could make this work. After all, he’d turned Bart’s back-alley whore hole into the most reputable place for food and fucks in all the Midwest.
Oscar pulled out his com screen and opened to the documents that would make the building Paris’s. Paris had thought a lot about this project, wanted it for a while. Knew what it had to be. Cardinal Sins would open soon to show the world that life had survived beyond the darkness of the last war—now it was time to enjoy it.
