by Kendric Neal
He tried to ruin it, but Cara was too warm, too lovely, too open, too giving. They clung to each other in the breeze of the air conditioning, alone in their desert isolation, purring contentedly as he pulled her body close. She came back to bed afterwards with a snifter of cognac, and he drank deeply, less conscious of the smooth luxury of the liquor than the warmth her hand had given it. He nuzzled her breasts, she buried her face in his shoulder. They spooned as he decided this was just what he'd needed…Rowdy's body had been innocence, Cara's was anything but. Neely marveled at her breasts—young and perfect, nipples erect and responsive to his every move, the smell of her shampoo, the scent of her skin…arms and legs entwined, bodies glistening in the spill of the nightlight, sliding together in a Romantic language he'd never heard before.
She was gone when he woke up.
There was a note on the mirror, written in purple Sharpie on a piece of hotel stationery: “I LOVE YOU!”. He never gave her any money. He didn't get a bill. Things really were complimentary in the Emerald Room.
CHAPTER 14
There was a USA Today outside his door in the morning and he felt a wave of nostalgia for his Sunday mornings at home. Everyone spinning through their different orbits, making plans for the day, bathroom rush, kitchen rush, getting ready, slamming doors, spilling orange juice, wolfing eggs, late for church, late for practice, late for everything, horns honking, catching a movie, mowing the lawn, going to Home Depot…
The kids were older now but the chaos still reigned. How he treasured the peace and quiet in those early days, only now recognizing how much he was going to miss the chaos when it was gone. In four short years, it'd just be him and Hope and too much peace and quiet. Calling the kids to see when they might bring some of the chaos back, if only for a night, and the usual answer a no, things going on, stuff to do, responsibilities of their own. Those crazy Christmas mornings—Cullen bouncing off the walls. Their summer schleps to Myrtle Beach—Jess and her friends laughing and giggling in the backseat. Ski cabin adventures, hiking and boat trips, McDonald's and Wendy's, backseat bickering, all gone—nothing but old home movies and Facebook archives left. Their kids taking new adventures to Costa Rica, Spring Break, backpacking Europe, studying in Japan, all gloriously without them.
They said they'd travel.
They'd never had enough time before… they had a list of at least three dozen places they wanted to see and three dozen more to replace those when they were gone. They'd be busy, no need to worry. It was the home stretch of parenting, pretending you liked the quiet when all you really did was bide your time and wait for grandchildren.
Neely had to put thoughts of home out of his head—this wasn't the time, he had to finish this. This was too good to waste, this was heavenly. He took out the sports page and perused the latest lines. For once he had money to burn, for once he could take chances. He budgeted $300K for his football bets and marked his choices, feeling elated and guilty. His favorite activity of the week, betting on the football games, watching how they turned out, only today, in the sports book with a hundred other guys like him, no need to hide what he was doing, and on a screen bigger than his house. The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. Delicious. D e l i c i o u s…
He went downstairs to the book to put his bets down and watch the pre-game. The place was near-deserted, but he knew that would change the moment the games started. People were just killing time in the casino—hard to resist the allure of so much money so close, hard to stand around and watch the Fox Sports banter when other people were winning, pots were growing, and the machines were giving it up cheap and easy. He ordered a Big Day Breakfast: three-cheese omelette, hashbrowns, pancakes and a pile of sausage. In addition to the fact he had his biggest bet of the day, $65,000, riding on it, the Giants and Eagles always played each other tough and promised to be a slugfest. He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. An impeccably dressed man wearing ear buds stood at arm's length.
“Do you have a moment, Mr. Thomas?” the man said.
“A moment for what?”
“A word with the manager.”
“Manager of what?”
“The casino.”
Another similarly-appointed man joined him and Neely swore they could be twins. They didn't look alike, it was their manner and dress that were identical. They had to be security. You only saw that kind of uniformity in military guys and cops.
“What about, exactly? The game's just starting.”
“He'd like a word. He always likes to meet the winners.”
Neely bit his lip. He was very happy where he was, he wasn't done with his breakfast, the game was twelve minutes away, and he was worried he'd lose his prime viewing spot once the crowd wandered in. He didn't see he had a choice, though. This was one of the things you did, you took the casino for a pile, you could at least be gracious about it. He followed the men as they slipped into a service hallway. It was amazing how quickly the rich appointments stopped once you were in the inner workings. The elevator and hallway were stripped-down industrial grade. Where he was going, the illusions ceased. That was strictly for tourists.
The office was roomy but plain…it reminded Neely of the congregation room at church where everyone chatted afterwards. The fluorescents overhead were off and the space was lit only by area lights which seemed to pool in random places. The man who stood to greet him looked like he'd once had a lot of muscle that had now gone soft. He had a huge gut and moved like the bodybuilder he once was rather than the fat guy he now is.
“Mr. Thomas, a pleasure,” he said, motioning to a chair. “I'm August Finn, head of floor operations. Please sit down.” He had the iron grip Neely expected. Part of the package. Four other men were seated at a table nearby and Neely couldn't reason out why. This room looked like the man's office, but it looked like it doubled as a meeting room as well. The other men didn't seem to be working on anything, either, just sitting and talking quietly. Neely couldn't shake the impression they were there because of him.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Finn,” Neely said, sitting down.
“Had a nice night, I hear.”
“Got a little lucky, yes.”
“Must have felt great, taking a hand like that.” Neely looked at the man. He was starting to see something he didn't like here. If this was guest relations, why the crappy office? If this was hospitality, they'd send someone charming, they wouldn't send a guy who looked like a Blooming Onion in a suit. “Every player's dream, eh?”
“Yeah.”
Neely volunteered no more, though Mr. Finn seemed to be waiting for something. Neely found that he was staring at him so he quietly stared back. Finally, the man spoke again, “Cup of coffee?”
Neely stood. “No, thanks. Look, I don't mean to cut this short, Mr. Finn, but I really want to get back to the book, the game's starting any minute.”
“Got a lot of money on the games.”
“Yes, I do. I appreciate all the casino has done for me and am most appreciative of your hospitality…”
“It wasn't for you.”
“Sorry?”
“The coffee. Tim was making it for me,” Finn said as one of the twins brought him a cup of coffee in a “Boss in Trunk” mug. “Haven't had mine yet,” he continued with a smile.
“Good, well—”
“Gus.”
Neely hesitated again and breathed in. “Pardon?”
“My friends call me Gus.”
“Alright, Gus, I'm proud to be counted among your friends. Now can one of you point me back towards the—”
“I'm moving next weekend and I could sure use some help. The dining table's a bear.” Then, off Neely's look, “Now that we're friends.”
Neely smiled, glad to have something to break the weird atmosphere in the room. “Be back home by then, sorry.”
“You know, that's what everybody says.”
Neely checked his phone for the time. “Maybe moving tells you who your friends really are. Sorry, Mr. Finn, Gus,
like I said, I appreciate the casino's hospitality—”
“How'd you do it?”
“How'd I do what?”
“Win.”
“Win what?”
“Everything.”
Neely stared at him, finally getting that this wasn't ever intended to be a friendly talk at all. “Are you serious?”
“What? Don't I look serious?”
“Yes, you do.”
“So?”
“How'd I win? That's what you're asking me?”
“Yeah.”
“I drew the cards I needed. What is this?”
“This is me asking you how.”
“This is me telling you how. You're familiar with the rules of stud poker, right? You've got eyes on the table, on the floor, on the dealer?”
“Now how would you know that?”
“Every idiot knows that. What the hell is this?”
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed. I'm going back to the book, the games are starting.”
“We're not done.”
“I am,” Neely said, taking a step toward the door.
“No, you're not.”
Neely almost walked into the twins. “What is this? Am I free to go or not?”
“Not.”
“So you're detaining me?” Neely said, reaching for his cell again. He turned it on and saw the voicemail and message box were full. Before he could do anything else, though, one of the twins took it out of his hand and snapped it in two. “What the hell…”
“Do you know that cheating in a Las Vegas casino is a felony offense in Nevada? Did you know that?”
“You're accusing me of cheating?”
“You keep asking questions. This guy likes to ask questions. You know, you got a little lawyer in you.”
“You have no right to detain me, you think I cheated, you call a cop in here and make your case. Otherwise, this is illegal.”
“Mr. Thomas, sit down.”
“No.”
He held out his hand, motioning to the chair. “We're two men here, we're having a discussion.”
“I'd rather stand.”
“You're making me nervous,” Gus said, looking not a bit nervous. “Alright, fine. There's a way you come out of this. You don't need to panic. I just need answers, I'm willing to pay for them.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I want to know exactly how you did it.”
“Did what?”
“You're willing to do that, I'm willing to recommend you not be prosecuted.”
“Prosecuted for what? I won. Just because you don't like it doesn't mean it didn't happen. You can't accuse me of cheating, you have no right. You're just throwing darts here.”
Gus hit some keys on his keyboard and behind him two dozen images popped up on the wall. Neely was surprised, he'd thought it was just smoked glass behind him.
“Our secret's out. We've got surveillance,” Gus said, and Neely realized all the images he was seeing were of him. They had his entire night on tape. “I worked in casinos for 44 years, Mr. Thomas. Neely, is it? Did I say that right? What is that?”
“What is what?”
“Neely. What kind of name is that? I never heard it before.”
“It was my grandfather's name. It's Scottish.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means 'son of the poet' or something in Gaelic. What the hell do you want?!”
A dark look passed across Gus's face and it stuck with Neely even after Gus replaced it with his usual placidly calm face again. “44 years, I've seen winners, I've seen lots of winners, I've seen lots of losers too.”
“So?”
“I've seen guys walk out of here with five times what you did and I didn't have this conversation with them. You know why?”
“Why?”
“What they did made sense. They bet big, they lost, they won, they got on a streak, they won, they left.”
“So?! That's what I did.”
“No. You want to know what you did? Neely? You're a guy who makes $182 a year with a 720 FICO, you sat stud in a Tier 1, threw down your life savings and had nothing til the last card. That's what you did.”
“So what?”
“Til the last card,” Gus said, pulling out a file now and putting on reading glasses. “Your biggest night at any poker table before this was $17,000. Your biggest night at Blackjack… $14,200, and that was four days ago. Hell, you've only been to Vegas a dozen times, you usually play strict limit games in an Indian casino. Online, football games, you like to spread it around, no big gains or losses. Steady, over time. You're a risk junkie. What you are not—” he said, taking off his glasses and looking at Neely, “—is a professional. You are not a high-stakes guy, you are not a guy who sits at a no limit table and goes five and a half on 10's. This isn't that guy,” he said, tossing the file on the desk. “The biggest single hand you ever won before was $12K.”
“What?!” Neely said, grabbing the file from him. His entire betting history was there, stretching back to his college days. The Indian casino, his online accounts, all of it. “You've got this in a file!?”
“You think we don't keep track?”
“This is from dozens of different casinos. You shouldn't have all that—”
“You gonna tell me it's illegal?”
“It's an invasion of privacy.”
“Tell the NSA. Tell Google and Facebook while you're at it.”
“This is without my consent.”
“So what?”
“It gives you an unfair advantage …”
At this Gus laughed, his big gut rolling with it. “Imagine that. A trillion-dollar industry wanting to maintain an advantage.”
Neely moved to the door again and this time no one tried to stop him. “Alright, Gus. Have your lawyer contact me if you think there's been malfeasance. You just better make sure you can prove it or I'll hit you for slander. This is an eye-opener to me, if there's one thing I didn't suspect, it's that a casino would be a sore loser. Hell, most of that was at poker, that wasn't even your money.” Neely tried the door but it didn't budge. “Unlock the door.” Gus just looked at him. He had the attention of all the other men in the room as well. “Unlock it. I'm serious. You have no right to do this and I will press—”
“Does Hope know?”
Neely stopped mid-stream. He was too surprised to go on. “You son of a—”
“The kids' college funds, really? I gotta tell you, Neely. I seen some low behavior, but—” Neely went to confront him but the twins sprung into action, blocking his path. “—that's about the worst. I understand, though. You were desperate. The poor Injuns soaked ya, you wanted to win it back. You're a pretty smart guy, 149 IQ, that's like almost genius level, am I right? We just want to know how. We'll be lenient. Just between you and me, they like to make an example but they're more interested in knowing how. They need that, it's your bargaining chip.”
“Mr. Finn, frigging Gus to your frigging friends, you're going to listen to me now. I'm going to say it again. I did not cheat in your casino. I won fair and square. You have, what, a hundred cameras you can look at, you watched everything I did last night, you prove to me I was cheating and maybe then we'll have this conversation.”
“Four games, Mr. Neely-fucking-Thomas. Blackjack, Roulette, Progressives and Poker. Four games, big winner at each. Did the same thing at Naccahaw on Tuesday afternoon, didn't you? Won at the slots, Blackjack and poker. 44 years. I've never seen that. Not like that. Not the way you did it, not with your history. It doesn't add up. I don't need to see it on tape, you fooled the fucking tape, you didn't fool me. Fucking clever guy, you know how many clever guys try this every year? Computer whizzes, tech-heads, think they're smarter than us. Think a casino is a big computer waiting for them to come in and hack it. Got numbers in your brain, got a flash drive up your ass? Huh? You got an app, you got a secret?”
“You think because I'm a coder, I got away with this? HOW? H
ow do you beat poker with code? How do you beat Blackjack with four decks?”
“I'd like to know.”
“It's random, goddamnit! I've been unlucky as hell before, why I shouldn't I be lucky now?”
In a flash that Neely wasn't expecting, one of the twins put him in a headlock and Neely gasped as his windpipe was cut off. Gus nodded to the other twin and he slugged Neely in the stomach so hard Neely felt it in his spine. Suddenly the other twin let him go and Neely fell to the chair gasping for breath. “You keep lying, it's going to get worse. I know you people, you see all this tourist shit and think you're in goddamned Neverneverland, but who do you think built all this? You think we're stupid? We know our business, Neely, and we don't like you dribbling crumbs in the machinery. So, yeah, I know about your history. I got a file like that on every serious gambler in the world, you know that? We got a shared databank with a billion names in it, you double-down on a crappy hand on a cruise ship in the Caribbean, I know about it. Why? Because it's odd. Everything normal gets recorded, everything odd gets flagged. And right now you got a flag the size of New Jersey.” Neely held his hand up to stop him. He was still gasping for air, but he was in shock more than anything else. He'd never thought they'd hit him. “I see we're starting to understand each other,” said Gus.
“You can have the money back. Just let me go,” said Neely weakly.
“That's not good enough. I checked your texts, asshole. You haven't even done that. I know no one knows, your work doesn't know, your friends don't know, Mr. Clever-Sneaking-Around, you paid for your ticket in cash, you covered your tracks. Thank you for that, you saved me a lot of hassle. Your last conversation with her, that was kind of cryptic. I'm guessing the cop that looks into it when you don't come home thinks you tripped out, went down to Guatemala to find yourself with some underage hooker, or maybe ate a gun in some quiet wooded spot holding a picture of the girl you crushed on in 8th grade. Nobody's coming here.”