6. Delilah
Delilah
Ihad to hang up before things got too out of hand.
Truthfully, asking Adrian what made him the King of Diamonds wasn’t a question I had planned or even a smart, nimble follow-up I’d had in my back pocket. It was a desperation question, something to turn the attention off me and relieve some of that explicit pressure and heat.
Because, damn, no source, no man, really, had ever put me in a spot where the tension was so great I couldn’t think straight.
Being a fit, healthy journalist brought with it plenty of male gaze.
Some of it was the kind of unspoken looks that were easily brushed off and never amounted to anything; some thought they could be far more overt, but that just made them perverted; and some just outright tried to barter sex for information or interviews.
But no one, and I truly mean no one, had ever played this cat-and-mouse game as well as Adrian.
The closest was an article on politics, where the attorney general had artfully deflected my questions and answered with what seemed like riddles.
That man, however, was in his sixties, overweight, and about the furthest thing I would ever want from a dalliance of a man.
Adrian Vale, on the other hand…
I’d never been in this situation before.
I suspected the professional thing was to offload the task to a second reporter, or at the very least do as many interviews around Adrian Vale before going to him one more time, just to do my due diligence.
But every part of me wanted to go to his office, wanted that exciting game of speaking to him, wanted to see how strong my professional boundaries were.
There was a thrill in it, no doubt. There was danger in it, no doubt.
High pressure, high heat, long, raw processes…
of the metaphor of what Adrian had said was alive and well, and I knew going into it was riskier than any other assignment I’d ever taken on.
At the very least, I’d never hear the end of it from Sarah, Talia, and Bridget.
At the end of the day, though, I was a professional, and some assignment invariably was going to be the hardest of my career. It looked like it was going to be this one.
Just for none of the reasons I ever would have expected.
Nothing happened for the next twenty-four hours.
It was almost strangely disappointing to check my email or texts and see nothing new from Adrian.
That was silly, and I told myself that the emotions and thrill I felt weren’t marching orders to follow.
There had been many sources who were objectively handsome or charming that I had resisted; why should this one be any different?
Because you know as well as anyone that rational thoughts don’t always override irrational feelings. If anything, the latter usually wins.
But I was able to depend enough on years of practice of journalism to get done my other tasks.
I worked on the drafts of some of my longer-form work; I made a few calls here and there for news of the day; and I posted to social media some important updates.
Nothing that would go viral or break news reports, but just what my job entailed.
All seemed normal until just before five p.m., right before I was about to pack up for the evening and head home, when I got a phone call from a number I did not have saved.
It was a 702 area code, so I knew it was from someone in Vegas, but these days, numbers not saved were as likely to be spam or bots as they were legitimate sources.
Still, I never let a phone call go unanswered.
“This is Delilah Reyes from the Las Vegas Times.”
“Hi Delilah. My name is Leo Morril. You know who I am, don’t you?”
I swore I had Leo Morril’s number saved in my phone. As I spoke to him, I searched the number he was calling from, but nothing came up. Suspicious, to say the least.
“Yes, and it seems you know who I am since you called me. How can I help you, Leo?”
“Straight to the point, I like it,” Leo said with a chuckle.
There was something off-putting about his charm, and I couldn’t yet say what it was.
It might have been as simple as Adrian getting there first, but I doubted it.
Leo was the kind of businessman who thought he was the most charming person in any room, yet ended up pissing everyone else off.
“Rumor has it you are working on a story about the great family rivalry in Las Vegas.”
“I’m working on many things these days.”
“A not-denial denial. They did say you were good at your job. Do you mind if I share some anonymous information with you?”
I had to play this carefully. Sources who would only speak anonymously were often a gold mine of information, because people gossiped freely when their name wasn’t attached. The problem was too many people in my industry treated them like candy, an unhealthy habit that needed to be picked.
“You can, but I think whatever it is you want to say, your words will resonate much more strongly if your name is attached to them.”
“Oh, I am aware,” Leo said, again with a laugh. “And I am not saying I will never go on record with my name attached to it. But perhaps this round, we keep it anonymous?”
I wish I had known this call was coming.
But I made myself the same deal I always did—if someone shared something truly juicy with me as an anonymous source, I would pressure them as much as I could to get them to say the same thing on the record.
Most people eventually relented; in the few cases that someone did not, I was left with a simple choice.
Publish or not. Sometimes I did, sometimes I did not.
“For now,” I said, “but I will tell you the same thing I tell everyone. If I feel the information you share is worth publishing, I will ask you to say it with your name attached. If not, it is far less likely to be published.”
“Understandable, you are quite good at your job.”
I said nothing. The best way to let charm give up was to never give a response in the first place.
“I’m here to talk to you about the Vales, specifically Adrian.”
The journalist in me perked her ears up. The human in me felt a sharp heat in my stomach.
“Adrian, of course, as you know, is the CFO of the Vale casino empire, and a man who calls himself the King of Diamonds. A fascinating nickname, if you ask me. Speaks to perhaps a small bit of insecurity, really; after all, who goes around declaring themselves king in a democracy? But I digress, as ultimately, personal shortcomings and follies don’t make for a story.
They might make for an embarrassing blog post, but nothing more. ”
I couldn’t decide if that was genuine self-awareness on Leo’s part about the terrible attempt at a smear article on Sarah or somehow an even bigger sign of lacking self-awareness.
But I had barely noticed that; I had taken the “King of Diamonds” nickname as something just factual that I hadn’t even considered that it might be compensating for something.
But for what? Was there something in the Vale household that suggested Adrian felt the need to adopt the nickname? The honest answer was most likely yes, but the obvious follow-up question was whether it even mattered.
“What is of greater interest to me, however, is the manner in which Adrian Vale operates as CFO,” Leo continued. “As you are probably well aware, a part of any business is M&A, mergers and acquisitions. I won’t patronize you, I assume you know well enough what those terms are.”
I did. And yet somehow, in saying he wouldn’t patronize me, Leo came across as doing exactly that.
“The Vales grew their business, in part, by essentially buying their way to the top. They’d grow a business, identify a competitor who was just ever so slightly smaller, buy them, and then grow accordingly.
It’s something I’ve done, so I won’t pretend it’s not good business.
But the Morrils always try to do everything aboveboard.
Have you ever wondered how the Vales grew so quickly? ”
I didn’t answer that question. I was here to collect information, not to be surprised by someone’s pointed presentation.
“Well, let me tell you,” Leo finally said.
“A few years ago, the Vales attempted to acquire a smaller, family-owned casino pretty far out from here. It’s in such a small town I couldn’t even name it for you.
But the family didn’t want to sell. They said it had been in the family for generations and would be for generations to come.
“Most of us, our family included, would have just shrugged it off. We might have tried to compete with them, maybe we’d even do what we could to beat them, but we’d fight fair and square. The little CFO over there, the Prince of Diamonds? He didn’t take it so kindly.”
I smirked when I heard “Prince of Diamonds.” Not because I thought it was funny.
But because Leo probably thought it was funny, when in reality it ironically showed him to be suffering from the same insecurity he had insinuated with Adrian.
It was not exactly breaking news to say that for all their money, wealthy people often had some of the most fragile egos of anyone I knew.
“He orchestrated a campaign of bad press, financially ruthless behavior, and even perhaps some dubious legal activity to drive the smaller casino business into bankruptcy. At that point, of course, the Vales came in and ‘saved’ the family business, promising to protect it at all costs. But now you know the truth.”
“That, I do,” I said, though it didn’t really mean much to me. Of course it was fucked up if true—but the key phrase there was “if true.” My job being what it was, I took nothing at face value and investigated everything, including whatever Adrian told me.
“The Vale empire, you see, is not built on creativity, hard work, and ingenuity, but on exploiting others, breaking them, and then pretending to be saviors. Just keep that in mind.”
I said nothing.
“But you should also be aware that Adrian is much the same way on a personal level.”
I gulped. What did this have to do with the Vale and Morril burgeoning rivalry? Everything. Everything and anything that can be used to break them has to do with it.
“Is this relevant to what I am working on, Leo, or is this just meant to be gossip?”
“Is it gossip if it is true? And remember, you said it yourself, you are far less likely to publish something if my name is not attached to it. I am not telling you what to publish. I am simply telling you what I know. Do with the information as you please.”
My bullshit radar began flashing alarms in my head. Leo wasn’t as graceful as Adrian or Cassius, but he wasn’t stupid. He had to know what he was saying next would never get published, not by the Las Vegas Times.
Unless he’s telling me this not for the sake of publication, but for something else…
“Adrian has not been, let’s say, very selective in who he has slept with,” he began.
I bit my tongue. I had no idea how long this would go on, but if there was something that suggested an illegal deal or activity…
well, it would qualify as news. “He has more than a few former employees who would speak about the kind of aggressive man that he is. Even other journalists—”
“I am here to gather information about how the family operates, Leo, not how an individual man chooses to date,” I cut in. “If other journalists cannot respect reporter-subject boundaries, that is their problem. If you have something newsworthy you wish to tell me, then so be it.”
Leo paused, but there seemed to be a hint of gratification on the other end of the line. A slight “hmm” was all that I got, but it was enough to tell me that I’d reacted way more strongly than I’d meant to.
Which, in turn, made me concerned that my ability to keep those deep internal thoughts to myself might not be as well done as I had thought.
Or maybe Leo didn’t know but had only a suspicion.
Still, either way, every part of my rational brain was telling me to treat carefully.
“Just be careful, Delilah Reyes,” Leo said. “I know he has opened himself up to you as a source. Understand that he is not a reliable narrator, or at the very least he’s an incomplete one.”
“I will keep that in mind,” I said coldly.
Leo Morril had little else to say, hanging up a short while after. When he finally did, I found myself feeling an odd emotion.
Anger.
Even with incredibly inflammatory subjects—sex and drug trafficking in Las Vegas, women held against their will by biker clubs and other powerful people, wet blankets for government officials—I always kept a level head.
My job was to present information objectively and clearly, which meant that even for things that everyone else would rightfully get riled up over, I had to keep a dispassionate head.
And here Leo was, spreading gossip about Adrian that got under my skin.
Why?
Well…
I knew why.
I didn’t want to admit why, but deep down, I knew why. I really did.
I just told myself to be careful, to respect the line between journalist and subject, and to recognize that both Adrian and Leo were likely seeing me as a pawn right now.
And that as their pawn, they would use me in whatever manner they saw fit to break the other.