We can recall precisely zero instances of any kind of royalty payment being due merely by virtue of a writer referring to or depicting a real-life known entity in a written work of fiction (or any other medium, for that matter). It's a matter of freedom of speech and freedom of expression, where legal concepts like "fair use" come into play.
If a word, name, or phrase is proven, by an individual or company, to have a secondary intrinsic meaning or use specific to them -- as in the case of Paris Hilton using her trademarked catchphrase to brand a clothing line and other commodities, for example -- then another party cannot use that phrase for commercial gain without permission and almost certainly the payment of a fee (unless they successfully trademark it themselves, in a different and non-competing context, which happens -- since 2001 there have been 17 approved applications to trademark the phrase "Let's roll," we discovered in the course of this research).
In the case of well-known Las Vegas hotels, historically there was also often a distinct graphic dimension to the name -- think of the famous Sahara or Sands logos/fonts, for example -- which may be subject to a separate trademark (and hence, by extension, could incur a licensing fee should you depict them visually as part of a commercial work. Even then, this doesn't apply if the image is in context. Only if you decide to promote Death in the Desert* with pins and key chains featuring an iconic and still-trademarked logo could the current owner of same, who paid money for the exclusive rights, have grounds to be upset and require some financial compensation.
Sheldon Adelson built his Las Vegas empire on the site of the former Sands hotel-casino and he purchased the rights to the name as well as the land parcel. This would almost certainly preclude any other hotel opening in Las Vegas as the Sands (and possibly any other business, period, knowing the current owner's fondness for litigation). Adelson did not acquire the rights to the distinct logo, however -- his Las Vegas Sands Corporation has its own style, while the original 1952 Las Vegas Sands design was last owned, briefly (2003-'05), by a hotel-casino company based in New Jersey. By a similar token, there's currently a car dealership on Sahara Avenue that uses the same famous styling as the Sahara hotel-casino, as it already did while the former was still in business, we seem to recall. (See Question of the Day 5/2/13 in the QoD Archives, in which we investigated this whole complex but interesting area in depth.)
In fact, the exact opposite precedent has been set, at least once to our knowledge, whereby a writer was paid to feature a trademarked entity prominently in their work in return for a "product placement" fee from the trademark owner. This occurred back in 2001 when Italian jeweler Bulgari controversially paid an previously agreed fee to successful British novelist Fay Weldon for The Bulgari Connection. (So, if you're really really nice about some Las Vegas hotels, perhaps you'll receive a check in the mail! We jest.)
Bottom line, you can almost certainly discount any notion of having to pay a fee to any real-life hotel, casino, or other location for the incidental contextual use of its name: You're totally at liberty to identify and feature a public property, whether the owner likes it or not. (Steve Wynn's famous shunning of TV and movie cameras inside his casinos could do nothing to prevent their exteriors from landing prominent cameo roles in some of the multiple movies that have depicted Sin City under attack and in various states of destruction and decay -- not necessarily top of the wish list for PR departments encouraging the public to plan their next fun and relaxing vacation. That said, there remain a few other things we recommend you do consider.
Such are the laws governing freedom of speech that there should be no grounds on which you could fall foul of any corporate legal department simply through incidentally mentioning a real-life casino. That would apply whether the characters in your book are staying, playing, or eating there as guests, or even if a gruesome murder or hostage-seizing heist takes place (Oceans Eleven did nothing to harm Bellagio's bottom line; quite the contrary in fact, we would hazard a guess). The only scenarios in which things could potentially get tricky would be if you place some scandalous or shocking incident at a real property and if that incident could be deemed both highly credible and defamatory. For instance, if you identify a real casino and depict all the dealers who work there as being involved in a highly sophisticated plot by the house to cheat all their players, or if you describe an entire wedding party as being struck down by deathly food poisoning at a name restaurant, and you describe them as having eaten a signature dish that is actually on the menu in real life, those are the kinds of situations where you could conceivably find yourself in hot water. To quote RightsofWriters, a very useful blog resource for writers looking for legal advice:
"Remember that businesses and organizations can be defamed, too; so take care to avoid the false implication that an identifiable real entity has engaged in bad acts.
"'Defamation' and 'tarnishment' are the areas where there could, in rare instances, be ... cause for concern. If, for example, you falsely depict a brand-name product as being dangerous or defective, a manufacturer could be heard to complain. Ultimately, the manufacturer should have to prove that some readers actually understood the disparaging depiction to be a statement of fact, not fiction, but there is seldom an artistic necessity to test that line."
The advice of the attorneys on that site is to protect yourself with a good disclaimer, should you feel absolutely compelled to name real names in your work, be they of people, properties, or brands. We can concede that there's a strong case to be made for the necessity of identifying the Rio as the featured location of a plot that revolves prominently around the World Series of Poker, for example.
"Disclaimers can't hurt. You will frequently see in the front matter of novels a statement such as: 'This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.' A disclaimer won't really protect you if there is evidence that the similarities are not 'entirely coincidental.' Nevertheless, a disclaimer gives a lawyer defending you something specific to point to in order to underscore to the court that this work is presented to the world as 'fiction' not as a factual account. And, remember, under the law, a reasonable reader would have to understand a statement about a person [or place] as a 'false and defamatory' statement of fact for it to be libelous.
As an addendum, we'd add that if the locations you're referencing are not merely being used as an authentic backdrop, but rather that your plot strongly implies that something dark and dastardly really did occur at a real-life venue, then you absolutely should consider changing the name and other details sufficiently to distance fact from fiction in order to protect yourself. To quote the advice on "Rights of Writers" once more:
"If you are depicting brand name products or companies in an unsavory light in your novel or short story, it is often prudent to invent a fictional brand or a fictional company. If there is a compelling artistic reason to use real products and real companies in contexts that arguably disparage them, it is wise to seek advice, prior to publication, from your publisher's attorney -- or an attorney of your own -- on how best to minimize the legal risks."
Legal arguments aside, we'd suggest another compelling reason for not sticking too closely to reality when it comes to your locations is that you run the risk of undermining the credibility of the work as a whole if you use real-life entities and accidentally goof on some detail. It will stick out like a sore thumb to those readers very familiar with this city--the only ones for whom the famous-name specifics will resonate in the first place--if you make an obvious mistake in geography, as Casino, Diamonds are Forever and, most notoriously, Con Air all did, resulting in varying amounts of egg on various faces. You don't have to be a professional gambler to cringe at the whole central concept of The Cooler and don't get us started on that movie's numerous other laughable departures from reality.
For this very reason, although he's an acclaimed gambling columnist, a successful real-life poker player, and someone who's spent more hours than he cares to remember in Las Vegas, in his debut work of fiction for Huntington Press, Michael Konik chose exclusively to use fictitious names and locations. Becoming Bobby is a hilariously dark portrayal of the casino business and very clearly draws on Las Vegas specifically as its focal inspiration, but it's precisely because the concepts and characters and events and locations resonate so profoundly with any reader familiar with Las Vegas, that there's absolutely no necessity nor added value in using real-life locations. On the contrary, in this particular context they would merely seem detrimentally prosaic. It's liberating for a writer not to be limited by the straight jacket of (at-times inconvenient) geographical accuracy, likewise the instantly "dating" time stamp of right-now reality, not least in this chameleon-like city.
Without knowing anything additional about your specific project and its plot, as a publisher (primarily of Las Vegas and gambling books) that's our best general advice to you.
P.S. We completely made up that title, obviously.
