Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Another hint of sentimentality. His mother’s comfort food recipe, and now this little reminder of his late father. I never would’ve imagined that from a man like Adler.
“Oh,” I say and join him at the railing. “I’m, uh, sorry. About your dad.”
Even though I never knew him and he died a year before I started working here.
Adler tilts his head to the side. “It’s been a long time, though in some ways, my father never left this place. Did you know he built the Sunrise when he was only twenty-eight?”
“Really?” I let out an impressed laugh. “How’d he manage to get the money?”
“Atlantic City was different back then. He started as a bookie at twelve, began robbing houses at fifteen, then got involved in casinos at nineteen. Nobody’s sure how he came up with the cash, but I’m betting you can venture some guesses, and one of them might be right.”
I chew on my lip, not sure how to respond to that. Everyone knows the Costa family is in deep with organized crime, or at least that’s the rumor on the Sunrise floor. I figured it must be true, since this whole city is corrupt and crawling with criminals, cheats, killers, sharks, and worse.
Except Adler doesn’t seem like a gangster.
No, he’s more like the image of the perfect industrialist. Young, handsome, even rakish to a fault, but still serious and intimidating. There’s nothing unseemly or gritty about the man—he’s as polished as they get, at least in this business.
Still, his implication is pretty clear.
There’s dark money at the core of this place.
“Why do you say your father is still here?” I ask instead, not willing to speculate on his criminal connections.
“The way it’s run, for one thing. He set up the Sunrise exactly the way he liked it, and even eight years after his death, we still haven’t changed much. His people remain in positions of power, though some have moved on. I believe you’re familiar with Big Dan? That’s one of my father’s.”
I stroke my hair, not really surprised. Big Dan’s old-school Atlantic City: loud, brash, working-class with an edge. I like him, but I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side. “That must be hard for you.”
“In some ways,” he agrees as his eyes scan the horizon. “But I didn’t come up here to complain about my family, although my father also plays a role in what we’re going to do, for better or for worse.” He holds up a hand and points toward the far end of Pacific Avenue. “You see that?”
I follow his finger. “The new hotel they’re building?”
“That is Tony Vetch’s new place.” His face tightens into a sour glare. “The Oceanview wasn’t enough for him.” He points toward our rival hotel five buildings away. Both the Sunrise and the Oceanview are right up against the boardwalk, and that new hotel will occupy some prime real estate only one block inland. “The city is changing, and I’ve come to realize that it will leave me and the Sunrise behind if I don’t change with it.”
I have no clue what he’s talking about. AC is always under construction, especially since a horrible hurricane nearly swept the whole town away. Since then, things have been shifting, but it still feels like the same old AC.
Still, Tony Vetch is another big hotel owner in the area—the Oceanview is as popular as the Sunrise, though I think it’s way seedier—and the rumors about his relationship with Adler go back decades. They used to be partners and best friends, but something happened to push them apart, and now they hate each other with a passion. At least according to what I’ve heard.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I say, shifting my weight toward him. My knees ache and my feet throb, but I do my best to hide it. “The Sunrise is always full though, and people love it down there. I mean, I love being a dealer too.”
“Do you?” he murmurs and glances at me. “What do you love about it?”
I stare out at the lights of the city. Down below, the world crawls on, thousands of people acting out their own stories, while beyond them the ocean continues lapping against the sand, going through its ceaseless movement. Everything seems so small, but also so big from this high up. It makes me feel strangely introspective, and I let some of my guard down.
“The Sunrise is like a family,” I say, glancing up at his face. He seems contemplative. “The money’s good, but the people make it worthwhile. I mean, I meet so many different kinds of people every shift, you know? Then there’s the staff, some of my best friends work here.”
“Like Roxie?” he asks, trying not to smile, but he’s not doing a good job at it.