Pocket Change

The most expensive suite they have happens to be the only suite with two bedrooms. As it is we have them bring in extra beds. Each room in the top floor penthouse suite has a king bed, we are told. They will bring in double beds in each room. That will pale in comparison to the king, but it beats rubbing tootsies with Lou. We rock paper scissors for the king and I lose, for the first night anyway.

Andy and Mike start a "No, you take it", back and forth like a fucking tennis match. It doesn't end until Lou grabs their ball.
"Rock paper scissors, you Nancys."
They shake them three times and come up with both rocks.
"No shit." Lou turns back to me and the desk clerk.

We check in for three nights. When they ask us for a credit card, I pull out my wad of cash and lay out a deposit that satisfies the card requirement. It is funny how cold hard cash seems to solve those little inconveniences. While I am at the front desk I inquire about renting a deposit box at the cashier cage. I don't feel like having the small fortune I am carrying with me removed by some talented pick-pocket. I figure I will have enough of it taken legally by the casino, don't need to lose any of it to the local talent. She makes a quick call and gives me the cager manager's name.
"Mr. Rogers will be happy to take care of that for you, sir."
"Mr. Rogers?"
"Yes sir."
"How do I recognize him, will he be wearing a Cardigan?"
"Sir?"
I look at this girl. She is maybe twenty years old and probably never heard of Mr. Rogers.
"Okay, Rogers... got it."

The lobby of this place is covered in a glass sculpture, like a big colored glass bouquet. Keep walking by the lobby and you end up in the gardens. There is a bride and groom being photographed on big set of steps.
"Hey, she looks like a nice fuck." Lou jabs me in the ribs.
"Still a gentleman, I see."
"Don't get your panties in a bunch. I'm just kiddin'."
"We have to see Mr. Rogers at the cashier cage. How much money do you have on you?"
"Hell, I don't know, seventy thousand?"
"Really?"
"Yeah, I think I started with close to seventy five, but we just haven't had anything to spend it on."
"Well, I have maybe fifty."
"You only have fifty dollars."
"You're an idiot, Lou... fifty thousand." I go to slap the back of his head but the move is countered and he manages to slap my head instead.
"Hey, you mother..."
"That was to teach, not to hurt."
"Look, sensei, stop touching me."

We walk to the cashier cage and ask for Mr. Rogers. A young man, I think, looks at us like we should be asking for his trash cans to empty.
"Who?"
"Mr. Rogers?"
"And what might this be referring to?"
Lou heats up to a mild boil within seconds. "It is referring to you turning around and going to get Rogers before I snap that attitude off and cram it up that sissy ass next to the hamster you have stuffed in there."
He managed to get all of that out in one hiss, low enough to not attract attention, but stern enough to move Sissy over to the small office to get the manager.

A balding man in a shirt and tie, late thirties, pokes his head out of the office to see what Sissy is talking about. He ducks back inside and reappears fastening the button of his suit coat.
"Can I... help you?"
Lou's presence keeps Sissy from returning to his post until we take care of business. Rogers tries to talk us into putting our money on account, but we refuse.
"Just a safe place, that is all we are looking for. We don't need the comps and all the bullshit."

We each keep ten grand on us, and the rest goes in the box. There is only one key, and Rogers or his counterpart will have the other. Lou puts the key in the pouch around his neck.

"Shit, I forgot about he diamonds. We should put them in there, don't you think?
Lou clutches the little pouch through his shirt.
"After all we have been through with these stones, I am not letting them leave my sight."
"Fair enough."

It occurs to me that we have already lost Andy and Mike. They are not with us at the cashier cage. We walk back toward the lobby and find them snapping pictures with a disposable camera that Mike had just bought from the gift shop.
"Smile there, Andy... and point up at the ceiling at those pretty flower things."
Andy tisks, apparently already posing for several minutes before we found them.
"Just take the damn picture, Theo."
A flash and it is over, he thinks.
"Oh hey, there come the fellas. We'll have them take a shot of the two of us here in the lobby, and then one in those gardens back there." Mike steps over and hands Lou the camera. I snatch it away from him, knowing it is important to Mike.
"I'll take it for you, Mike. If you let Lou do it you will probably get some girl's ass instead of the lobby."
"Wouldn't that be a crime." Lou says under his breath.

We don't even go up to the rooms. With just sandwiches since lunch we are all ready to chow down on a nice thick steak. It takes us most of an hour to walk around in this place. It is pretty upscale. Almost too upscale. It doesn't have that neon, change dropping, nasty bar girl, ninety-nine cent shrimp cocktail feel that Vegas had in the old days. Now you can't even find a shrimp cocktail unless you order one in the restaurant. At least not in here.

We move in a loose group, dragging the trailing ends up as we move forward. We check out each of the restaurants and the menus they have posted. Not a lot of steak choices. There is a lot of Picasso, a lot of fusion cuisine, and a whole lot of weird shit that just doesn't fill the void that a huge Porterhouse might fill. We end up in the valet area waiting in the cab line.

"Hey pal," Lou palms the valet a twenty, "where is the best place get a nice piece of meat?" The valet waits a beat before he pockets the twenty, wondering what the fuck this guy is looking for. Hooker? Male Hooker? You can see his mind working. Nope. Meat... steak. "Yes sir," he leans in as though it is a secret "if you aren't satisfied with what the Bellagio has to offer, might I suggest Wynn's new S W Steak House."

It's just down the street, but because traffic is bumper to bumper, we spend thirty five bucks on the cab ride and it takes twenty minutes. But we got to yell a limousine full of pretty young things on a bachelorette party. We probably could have had a little fun with them but Lou is Lou and I'm sure there would be a police report on our cab before the night is through.

Wynn's new casino is pretty fancy. Haven't shot any movies here, but the cab driver said they dropped some money building the place... the most expensive casino ever. It is pretty much lost on the four of us because the only thing we want to see is a menu.

Me and Lou get the once over by the man at the podium, but he seems to have no problem seating Andy and Mike... so we just follow. We are seated at a table near the back of the room with a nice view of the pool and what we find out later is the light show. The wait staff descends on us and we are watered, buttered, beveraged, and menued.

"Oh hell yes." Lou's eyes light up at the sight of the steaks you can order. Lou orders the Porterhouse for two... forty ounces of top grade beef. He wants it quick broiled on one side until it is burned, but only on the surface. The other side is cooked rare... just broiled enough to brown the outside. That and asparagas. I get the twelve ounce filet and Maine Lobster tail, along with au gratin potatoes. Both Andy and Mike order the New York Strip with lobster and black truffle cassoulet. Oh... we all order a shrimp cocktail to start off.

Our drinks come along with our shrimp cocktail. Three of us ordered some pretty fine whiskey. One of us ordered an umbrella drink with three types of exotic juices and two kinds of rum. "Oh, that there is a strong one." Mike winces as he stirs the umbrella speared through pineapple, mango, and passion fruit. Andy tisks and shoots his whiskey.

"Three lousy fucking shrimp?" Lou says a little too loud for our comfort. He yanks one off of his plate and bites it in half. You can hear it crunch in his mouth. "Holy shit that's good. That is the best damn shrimp I have ever eaten."

"You couldn't have bit it first... before you had every head turned in our direction?"

"Fuck 'em."

We finish with our shrimp cocktails and then gnaw on the bread basket rolls until our food comes. It is torture, the smells from the kitchen. If they were smart they would come out and raise the price on you just before they brought it out. As they bring out our dishes the light show starts outside. We don't say a word, each of us to taken with our meals to bother talking. I watch Lou make a non-stop run on forty ounces of Porterhouse. Half way through he lets out a belch that turns everyone's head away from the light show. They all look at Mike who sheepishly points at Lou... who in turn points both fingers at himself in recognition. More drinks, even less talk, and finally we all lean back in our chairs and let out a collective sigh.

"That was excellant."

"No shit. Pisses me off that I'll have to take a shit later." More looks are drawn away from Vegas' premiere light show to look at Lou.

"I don't suppose you can keep that Turretts Syndrome under wraps until we aren't in a crowded room full of people eating?"

He belches again, this time into the linen napkin... just as the third round of Johnny Walker Blue is delivered. That and another Tahitian something or other that Mike is drinking. He has stuck one of his little umbrellas behind his ear... not good.

The bill finally comes, but I think it is quicker than they might have usually pushed us through. If it weren't for the fact that our tally was almost five hundred dollars with the liquor... six hundred with a tip and round of drinks to go, I think they would have asked us to leave before we ordered. We are all pretty shitfaced. Mike manages to get an umbrella tucked into the back of Andy's Airforce ballcap without him knowning. But because he can't managed to keep a straight face, the gig is up and Andy wipes the thing from it's place and then gives him a punch to the arm.

"Fucking Viking lover."

"Why Andy... I don't think I have ever heard you swear." Mike says in all seriousness.

"The night is young." He tosses back the shot we got on the way out and sets his glass down on a planter as we pass. "HELL YA."
I look at Lou, "We've created a monster."
Lou brushes me aside at the sight of the craps tables, a wild game going on at two of them. "Come on, let's play some dice, boys."
He marches on and muscles his way onto the rail.

Mike watches Andy as he walks toward the tables. "Andy... you don't know nothin' about craps." He keeps going, and I think I hear him tisk.
"I think I will stick to the old slot machines, Jake. How bout you?"
"I might try a few things. Where are you going to be?"
"Oh, I think I might give my luck a try on those motorbikes over there. Always fancied a motorbike... just never got one, you know. The wife, she is dead set against buying one... but winning one, that hasn't come up."
"You're married, Mike?"
"Oh ya, for quite some time now... kids and the whole shabang. How bout you, Jake. You married?"
"Nope. Hey, is Andy married?"
"Oh ya, he is goin on twenty four years now with the same gal."
"Go figure."

I leave Mike near the carousel that has a pair of classic looking Harleys perched on top of it. A two for one deal for five quarters a play. I can already hear Lou shouting at the dice table on his initial toss of the dice. Andy is nowhere in sight for the moment, but I keep an eye out. The guy can hold his liquor.

"Six is the point." The croupier calls as he dances the dice on his croupier stick, eventually pushing them toward Lou. There is a flurry of bets as he gathers them up, then all bets are held as the dice roll out.
"SIX."
A cheer goes up, a cocktail sweetie brings drinks to Lou, who has order me another whiskey. He whispers something in her ear and she giggles appropriately, the picks up the fifty he dropped on her tray for a tip. The dice are back in front of him.
He picks them up and rolls them in his hand for a moment, then shoots them down the table.
"Ten, hard way."
More cheers, payouts roll out in a flurry of moves from the dealers, the box man watching with an eagle eye, the pit boss watching the box man, the pit manager watching him, and the eye in the sky rolling tape for posterity.
The layout is full of chips for his next toss. I lay down a few bets myself and back up my pass line as well. I even throw a grand on his six. I make a couple of other bets, big money just for show... not that anybody gives a fuck.
"SIX."
Another cheer, and I am part of it. I lay big money down on Snake Eyes, a Our cocktail girl is back with two doubles of Johnny Walker Blue. More bets are made, a few for the dealers as well. The roll...
"TWO, Snake Eyes" The croupier shouts over the crowd. Its a fucking melee of hands and chips, paying out and raking in. The chip rails are filling, drinks are coming at Lou from every direction. I try to help.
I have pulled up some of my winnings, and have adjusted some of my bets on the layout. These dealers are so quick, so precise. Chips and a requests come from all through the crowd, right and left, and they still get them right. The dice are pulled up in front of Lou and he goes again.

I don't think I have met anyone who has had thirteen straight passes at a dice table... ever. But tonight the gods are with him. Lou has made everyone who has had the guts a rich man at that table. The smart ones have pulled back some of their winnings, and work the layout to their advantage. Others try to ride his luck for all its worth, pushing most of their bets... hoping for the long ride they are getting.

Two things happen to make me pick up and leave. First, a man walks up and lays a bet against him... totally ruins the mood, and the luck. That starts an arguement with not only Lou, but more than half the players at the table. I pick up my chips immediately, stuffing them where they will fit. There is a shitload. I don't color up because I don't want to draw attention to myself with Lou. But he is quite pre-occupied with this guy. He manages to get beside him and whisper something in his ear. The guy looks at him incrediously, then with a shakey hand moves his bet to a more appropriate spot on the layout.
I'm sure Lou threatened to carve his nuts like you would make a rose from a radish.
During the arguement they manage to call out a dice change. The new dice are measured and delivered to the table. By the time they are in front of him, he is still whispering in the guy's ear so he doesn't even know. Not that the dice were loaded or anything, but it is a shameless attempt to shut the luck down at the table. I wouldn't be suprised if that guy was a shill.

While he is still arguing I find Mike sitting at the carousel. There are three more of the tall glasses that once held the two rum killer he had been drinking at dinner. We have all had enough booze to light WC Fields nose two shades of crimson.
"Where's Andy? Have you seen him?" I ask looking for and finding a bucket for my chips.
"He's over there." He points to a high limit black jack table. I can see a fairly large stack of chips in front of him.
"Looks like he's winning."
"At least someone is."
"Yeah, what the fuck. I haven't heard any bells going off over here. Not even a coin falling."
"They don't have coins in these things. Oh, don't get me wrong. If you really want to you can do it the old way. But they prefer you put your cash in this little slit here and then it gives you credit. Never even see any money. Just these points here."
He taps the glass where it shows he has just over five thousand "points".
"Those are quarters, Mike. You have over twelve hundred bucks in there."

Just then fists fly at the craps game I just left. I can see Lou being held back by five or so of his biggest fans, and the box man off his seat, straightening his jacket.
"Uh oh."
Then we hear the call for security to some pit number or other.
"Oh Christ."
I watch as security closes in on the dice pit.
I feel for the wad of cash in my pocket and pour thru it. Nothing but hundreds.
"Mike, lend me a couple of bucks."
He pulls two bucks out of his pocket and hands it to me. "Sorry, that is all I have left."
I take the bills and let the machine suck them up. There isn't even a handle to pull. I look at the buttons on the front, "Hey, how do you make this thing work?"
Mike reaches over and gives the center button a quick slap and then is back on his.
First time the reels go around, they stop... one at a time, on a small likeness of the motorcycles on top of the carousel. Nothing happens, but my light blinks red.
"Change me seats... quick."
"What?" Mike doesn't even see it.
"Just change me seats." I get up and pull him over. "I'll trade you."
"But I have twelve hundred dollars on that there machine. You just said so."
Just then a key-man steps up and starts congratulating him. He looks at the reals as the guy explains, then follows his finger up to the bikes. Mike's mouth drops.

Over at the dice pit security has helped Lou gather his things and now they are escorting him to the cashier's cage. I am sure the move after that is to show him the sidewalk. Andy must have been monitoring the situation because he has his chips in a tray and is not far behind them.

"I... I can't believe this. We won those motorbikes, Jake... we won those bikes." He stands with his hands on his hips as they snap a picture of him.
"Sir, we have to wait for the Gaming Commission to come and verify the chip in the machine, then check the camera footage. After we are finished we can make arrangements to have the bikes delivered to you."
"No foolin'?"
"Yes sir."

The process moves along quite nicely. I go out and check on Lou, who was unceremoniously ejected after his picture was snapped in the security office. He and Andy are all the way down on the sidewalk in front of the casino.
"Mother FUCKERS." Lou shouts at the reflective glass of the towering casino. "They change the fucking dice on me... and put that prick in there." He looks both ways down the street, "As soon as we find a pawn shop, I'll cut those motherfuckers."
"Easy, wildman, nobody is going to cut anyone."
"Yeah, Lou, we have a little more drinking to do... and maybe look at some tits."
This comes out of Andy's mouth.
Lou just looks at him. "You scare the shit out of me."

Inside, I arrive to see Mike just a little flustered.
"They say I didn't win the bikes, Jake."
"What?" I see the apprehension on the slot manager's face, who is flanked by the key-man that had congratulated Mike so many times in search of a tip that I thought they might have to get married.
"Sir, you were sitting at this machine and you placed the bet. The tape doesn't lie."
"Well, if the tape doesn't lie then why didn't it show me putting his money in this machine and him pushing the button?"
The manager looks at the key-man, who looks back. "We only went back to when the machine hits. Are you saying that you didn't activate the reels?"
"Yep."
They dismiss themselves to go look at the tape once more.
Mike still looks like someone shot and field dressed the Easter Bunny right in front of his eyes.
"Hey, relax Mike, you won the bikes."
"Ya think so?"
"Oh ya."

Sure enough, they come down five minutes later and have Mike fill out a couple of forms. I don't think you could have wiped that smile off his face with a road grater.

Outside, Mike shows Andy the picture of him and the two bikes above him on the carousel.
"You won both of those bikes?"
"Oh ya."
"No shit... we are some lucky motherfuckers."
Mike just looks at Andy for a second. "I think you're drunk, Andy."
"The FUCK you say."
Lou looks at the picture, "Nice ride, man. Good on ya."
"Thanks. But I can't keep 'em both. Wouldn't be right. It might have been my money and all, and I even pushed the button. But if Jake hadn't have sat down at that machine I wouldn't have ever put a dime in there. Not that you could."
I look at the guy and he puts his hand out for shake. I grab it a pump it a few times.
"No kiddin', you're giving me one of those beautiful bikes, man?"
"Oh sure. But I want the green one, if that's okay."
"Are you kidding?"
"Nope."
"Done. We have to come back tomorrow to pick them up."