A man with tan and white hair stepped up to the gate of Mickey D’s mansion. He had followed behind a handful of others, each going through the same vetting process until he was the only one left in line. He adjusted the headband on his forehead and stepped up to the window of the gatehouse.
“Name?” The young woman in a tight suit coat peered out at him.
“Ace Gallagher.”
“Ace?” She shot him a look.
“Yes, ma’am.” He waited as she looked at her list.
“Oh. Ace Gallagher," her pen touched the tablet she was holding. “Arrived on the Galileo from the planet Tal E?”
“Right, again.”
Hands reached out from the window. “Entrance fee.”
Ace took the slim box of dilithium crystals from the pocket inside his coat and handed it over. “Here you are.”
Her finger thrust out of the window and narrowly missed his nose.
“Step over there.”
His eyes followed her pointed finger and he slowly turned in its direction. A man in a suit was standing with a probe in his hand. He nodded and stepped up to him.
“No weapons, communicators, computers, or other devices?” The man asked despite immediately running the probe over the entirety of Ace’s body in the process.
“No, sir,” he held out his arms as the man jabbed the probe under them.
He stepped back and gestured inside the gate. “Enter.”
“Thanks.”
As he walked inside the complex, the grandeur of the mansion struck him. Tall columns stretched from the ground and held up the multi-story facade. Thin, spiraled trees emerged from great stone pots at the base of each column, with warm lights pointed upward between them both. The mansion itself was built with red brick and off-white stucco. Windows were tall and thin and numerous.
“Sir,” the doorman called, reigning Ace’s eyes back to his mission. “You may come inside!”
“Right–sorry!” Ace adjusted his tie and sprinted toward the door. “I was just admiring the place.”
“Well, you can continue in here,” the man opened the door and ushered him inside.
Ace was again left breathless as he stood in the middle of Mickey D’s foyer. High ceilings with white and gold wallpaper were accented with deep red, velvet curtains. On each side of the room was a serving table where skilled barkeeps mixed drinks and waitresses offered horderves. The other entrants were dispersed throughout the room, most gathering around the bars or by the chest-high round tables nearby.
One of the entrants, a tall woman in a sparkling maroon dress with curled brown hair, caught Ace’s wandering expression.
Ace cleared his throat and adjusted his posture when he realized the woman was now walking toward him. He hadn’t recognized her from the line outside; in fact, he didn’t remember seeing many other women in general–much less a woman in such a striking garment.
“Good evening,” she held out her hand long before she had reached him. “I’m Rose Wilson.”
“Good evening, m’lady” he accepted her hand, bowed, and gave her knuckles a kiss.
“Oh,” she twisted her chin near one of her shoulders in surprise of his chivalry.
“I’m Ace Gallagher,” he said after returning her hand.
Her thin brows lowered. “Ace? For real?”
“Yep. My parents had a sense of humor,” he tugged at his fingerless gloves, “and possibly a gambling addiction.”
She stifled a laugh. “Well.”
“And you, Rose,” Ace slid closer to her, leaning his elbow onto the round table beside them. “Were your parents gardeners?”
Her hazel eyes narrowed despite her lips remaining in a half smile. “My mother loved roses; my father would frequently give them to her.”
“That’s sweet.”
“So, what brings you here, Ace?” She took another step forward.
“I’m here to play poker,” he smirked.
“And win the prize?”
“That’s the least of my concern.”
“Really?” She asked incredulously.
“Really.” He replied simply. “You?”
“I’m here to win.”
Ace held his breath as the woman pressed up against him, pointing her fingernail into Ace’s chest. “What are you hoping to win?” He managed to speak after a moment.
“The prize, of course.”
“Mickey D’s fortune?”
“Mm,” she hummed. “But I wouldn’t mind a little more.”
Ace swallowed as her fingernail now caressed his chin. His green eyes darted aside. “Sorry–one second!”
Rose nearly fell forward as Ace slipped out of her grasp in one swift movement to chase down a passing tray of horderves.
“I love these little egg things–thank you!” He ended up taking the last three on the waitress’ tray–much to her surprise.
Rose smirked as she set her hand on her hip. “Devilled eggs?”
Ace already had one in his mouth when he turned around. “Issthah wha theyrcalled?” He held a fist over his lips as he continued chewing.
Rose again let a laugh escape her lips. “You’re an interesting fellow.”
“I get that a lot,” he held one of the two egg halves out toward her. “Would you like one?”
“No, thank you,” she waved her hand before another man caught her eye.
“Rose, there you are,” the tall man with jet-black hair and a small mark between his eyebrows stepped up to them. “I hear they’ll be letting everyone in the ballroom in a few minutes.” He glanced down at the tan-haired man stuffing the last of a devilled egg into his mouth. “Um, hello.”
Ace swallowed and held out his hand. “Ace Gallagher.”
“Ace?”
“Yep,” both he and Rose answered.
The man shrugged as he shook Ace’s gloved hand. “I’m Jeffery Boen from Risa,” he said before adding, “and yes, our planet really is everything you’ve heard of it.”
“We’ve heard of it?” Ace tilted his head.
Rose’s attention was drawn away before a stunned Jeffrey could respond. “There he is,” she whispered.
Both men turned to follow her gaze.
A rotund man in a pinstripe suit could be seen near the bar at the other end of the room.
“Mickey D,” Jeffery took a step forward. “The man himself.”
“Cool, let’s go–”
Rose grabbed Ace by the sleeve. “What are you doing??”
Ace looked at her confusedly. “Going to meet him?”
“You don’t just walk up to Mickey D!” Jeffrey grit his teeth.
The Aravasti narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
“You know who he is, don’t you?” Rose hissed.
“Uh,” he looked between the two of them, “yes?”
Rose released him and both she and Jeffery bent closer. “I don’t think you do,” her voice was low and sharp, “or you would know why you need to keep your distance.”
Jeffery’s entire demeanor had changed as he held his elbows tight against his sides. “He’s a notorious hitman–probably killed hundreds over the years for bounty. He’s also a thief and a smuggler.”
“Of goods,” Rose narrowed her eyes, “and people.”
Ace frowned, leaning away from her.
“If he does come over here, which I’m sure he will,” Rose leaned in closer, “you need to be very careful.”
“Only speak when you’re spoken to,” Jeffery added. “And when you’re spoken to, stick to small talk–don’t pry.”
“If there is one thing about Mickey D you need to remember, is that he will follow through with every plan–every threat–he makes. His track record proves that. If you make one wrong move,” Rose grasped Ace’s gloved hand, “you won’t leave this mansion alive.”
Ace blinked, a mixture of concern and bewilderment on his face. He could only nod slowly in reply, and only then did Rose release the tight grip on his hand.
Jeffrey cleared his throat and swirled the wine in his glass. “So, Ace,” he leaned heavily on his name. “Where are you from?”
“Tal E.”
“Tal E?” Jeffery repeated. “Never heard of it.”
“We’re new to joining the Federation. Just got warp capabilities and a decommissioned Starfleet shuttle, so when I heard about this tournament, I figured I’d take a chance.”
“Interesting.”
“He’s not interested in the prize money,” Rose laid a hand on Ace’s shoulder.
“I never said I wasn’t,” Ace clarified, “I’m just more interested in playing the game. It’s fun. I enjoy it.”
“Is that so?”
The look on Rose and Jeffery’s faces was all Ace needed to confirm the identity of the man now standing behind him. He paused for only a moment, then turned around to find a man no taller than himself–albeit much rounder–in a pinstripe suit, holding a glass of wine in his left hand.
Ace’s lips pulled to a grin. “You must be Mickey D,” he reached out his hand. “I’m Ace Gallagher.”
Mickey took Ace’s hand and shook it. “A firm handshake; I like it. And with a name like that, I believe you’ve come to the right place.”
The gambler smirked as he chuckled. “Let’s hope so.”
The man offered a single laugh, his form bouncing in the process. “Are you enjoying yourselves so far?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Jeffery fumbled as Rose took a step back. “And I–I am Jeffrey Boen, sir. From Risa.”
“Risa,” Mickey repeated as Jeffery managed a very awkward handshake.
“Yes, sir–and if you ever need–um–accomodations in Risa…”
“I’ll keep you in mind,” the man gave him a nod, “thank you.”
Jeffrey half-smiled. “Thank you, sir!”
“The devil-eggs are to die for,” Ace returned to the conversation. “I assume you’ve had a chance to try them?”
Mickey D laughed again. “I have not, but I’ll be sure to pass along the good word to my chef.”
“Please do,” Ace paused, his lips tugging into a smirk. “So, Mr. D, I have to ask: is this where you live?”
Rose and Jeffrey at once appeared mortified.
“Where I live?” Mickey repeated, his small eyes somehow wider.
“Well, you invited us all here, and it looks like it could be a spectacular place to live–I have no doubt. But, you could also be renting it for an event like this, and live in a more modest home the rest of the time.” Ace paused, glancing over his shoulder to find Rose and Jeffrey had slipped away, and with a small shrug he turned back to Mickey. “Honestly, I'm not sure which I’d prefer, if it were me.”
The man in the pinstripe suit hummed and tipped back the rest of his wine. “This is home for now, I suppose,” he set his empty glass on a nearby table, and a man in a gray suit was quick to swap it out with a new one. “I find I cannot stay in one place for very long these days.”
“It’s nice to travel.”
Mickey again found himself chuckling. “You must be blissfully unaware of my career.”
He shrugged. “I’ve only heard rumors. But rumors aren’t always true.”
Mickey pointed his thick finger at Ace. “I like that.” He then waved the finger in a small circle. “You seem to be empty-handed; can I offer you a drink? Perhaps more devilled eggs?”
“No, thank you–but you definitely need to get some before the tournament.”
“I will, I will,” the grin again found Mickey’s round face.
Ace slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. “So, of all the places you’ve lived, where have you been that’s felt most like home?
“Oh.” Mickey’s face twisted with thought.
“Sir,” the man still holding Mickey’s empty wine glass reminded them of his presence.
“Just a moment, Bernard,” he said, only to pause. “Oh, Mr. Gallagher, this is Bernard. He’s my assistant.”
“Good to meet you,” Ace was much more enthusiastic than Bernard was as they shook hands. In fact, Bernard seemed somewhat taken aback by the introduction in the first place.
“Doesn’t he have a good handshake?” Mickey gestured to Ace before his small eyes narrowed even smaller. “I would have to say, Mr. Gallagher–as an answer to your question,” he thumbed his chin with his fingers, “My birthplace: Trapani. On Earth.”
“Trapani?”
“A small village nestled among blue skies and even bluer waters. Houses built up on the hills, all colorful and perfect. There were grapevines and milk goats along the roads,” his hands reached up, “and lemon trees with their branches spreading out overhead.”
Ace grinned, watching the man become a very different person as he reminisced about his childhood home.
“You could smell them; you could smell everything. Baking bread and pastas; the salty air and the fish; the spices,” he kissed pinched fingers before letting his hand drop and returning his focus to the present. “That will always be home. I left more than my heart behind when I left there–much more.”
“I can almost imagine it,” Ace nodded with a smile. “I hope you get to go back there someday.”
“As do I; though, I fear I may never will,” he sighed.
“How come?”
“Sir,” Bernard tried again.
The man leaned close to his ear and whispered. Ace was not close enough to catch actual words.
“Ah,” Mickey D straightened his posture. “Thank you, Bernard. Mr. Gallagher,” he turned back to the young man before him, “I regret that I must leave you so I can meet the rest of the entrants into my competition before we begin.”
“Of course; it was great talking with you.”
He pointed at Ace as he shuffled away with Bernard. “We are not finished yet!”
“I hope you’re right!” Ace returned the point and rocked on his feet, his dress shoes creaking on the floor. He smiled wistfully, recounting the man’s story of his more, though the smile dulled when he remembered the real reason he was gathering such information. He had to remember Mickey D had hinted at leaving something behind in Trapani–evidence, perhaps? Some of his fortune? Or was it much less incriminating–like memories or family members?
“I can’t believe you,” Rose was standing beside Ace long before he had noticed her, and he leapt and turned toward her fuming expression. “Did you not hear anything we said about Mickey D??”
“What?” Ace eyed her. “Did he ever seem upset or threatening from your view across the room?”
Rose narrowed her eyes, her lips parted. “You just got lucky,” she muttered.
“Did I?”
“See for yourself.”
Grumpily, Ace followed her gaze to their right, and he found Mickey D, and Bernard, confronting a man in a simple dress shirt and slacks, his hands raised in defense.
“What–what do you mean?” The man asked, taking a step back.
Mickey D’s soft words were too difficult to hear over the other conversations in the room, but his hands gestured in a circle and then to the front door they were standing in front of. He then pointed at Bernard.
The man almost crumbled before him, falling to his knees and taking Mickey’s hands.
Mickey shooed him away, gesturing to Bernard.
Still inaudible, the man was pulled from his feet and ushered through the door as he covered his face in his hands.
“That,” Rose stressed, “ is what happens.”
Ace remained silent, watching the scene carefully as Mickey D turned and toddled away from the door just as casually as he had arrived. Bernard returned a moment later, brushing his hands on his coat before rejoining his master in the middle of the room.
“Poor fellow was probably under-dressed.” Rose tilted her chin.
“That’s not what that seemed like,” Ace pondered aloud.
The woman eyed him. “You really don’t know Mickey D, do you.”
“Mi scusi,” the man inquisition announced suddenly. His hands were raised outward, tugging his jacket up on his rotund frame. “If I can have your attention, please, everyone.”
All sound in the room dropped to silence. The gentle music that had been wafting through the background and every conversation stopped. All eyes were now on the man of the hour.
“The tournament will begin in just a moment, but I must lay out the rules before we begin.” He lowered his arms and clamped his hands together at his waist. “There are four tables in the ballroom: sit at one of them. There will be five players at each table, and each player will begin with the same value of chips as the other. You will all play until you run out of chips, until only one remains at each table.” He opened his hands. “Those lucky four get to join me at my table for the conclusion of the tournament. Are there any questions?”
When no one else spoke, the man bowed his chin to his chest. “Bona furtuna.”
With that, the great doors at his back clanked open, revealing an extravagant ballroom with four brightly colored poker tables near each corner–and a fifth in the center of the room where Mickey D was heading toward. The other participants slowly began shuffling inside and choosing their places at the tables.
“Hold it,” Rose’s hand clamped onto Ace’s wrist. “I want to keep an eye on you.”
“Fine with me,” Ace glanced at her. “I like the look of that front left table.”
She slipped her hand around his arm and gathered the edge of her skirt. “Then, lead the way, Ace Gallagher.”
---
Scene Notes
- A longer chapter, but it needed to get a lot established.
- Risa is know as the "pleasure planet" ... I'll let you look up more if you want :D
- The Sicilian side of my family is from Trapani, so that was another nod to them :)
