by Nella Tyler
He smiled and kissed me. "That's all I ask, Maggie. That's all I ask."
Finally, Ben stood and I walked him to the door.
"I had a wonderful day with you. Thanks for breakfast," he said.
We shared a long, endearing kiss at the door, and then, with a grin, he laughed and turned around and left. I watched him walk down the hallway and then closed my apartment door softly. I leaned back against it, contemplating. What was going on? Should I believe him? Was his request to get back into the casino merely because he wanted to be with me? Was I being foolish? Was I letting my feelings for him to interfere with good judgment?
Then again, I still did feel a bit guilty for him getting banned from the casino in the first place. The conundrum was how do explain that to management without a discussion of why I had said what I said to Savannah. And, in talking to whomever in management I needed to speak to, I would once again be dragging Savannah into the mix. I wasn't sure I wanted to do that, either. I didn't want to get either one of us into trouble.
As I got ready for work, I tried to figure out a way that I could make up for the damage I had done as far as Ben no longer being allowed into the casino. Then again, how far could I go without endangering my job or Savannah’s? I had suggested to Savannah that I had an inkling that Ben was cheating, but I had no proof of it. Even so, I could very well be called out for not mentioning it to any of the pit bosses. After all, we were supposed to tell someone if we even had an inkling that someone was cheating. How would I get around that?
I took my shower, put my makeup on, and got ready for work, but staring into the mirror as I applied my makeup I found myself frowning. My easy-going, relaxed feelings that I had felt for the last couple of days had disappeared. Once again, uncertainty and doubt overwhelmed me.
I didn't think Ben was trying to pull a fast one on me. No, I truly believe that he just wanted to be allowed back in the casino. It was my fault he'd been banned in the first place, so I did feel that I owed him at least the attempt.
However, did he also realize that in making that attempt, that I might very well be putting my job into jeopardy? Not only mine, but Savannah’s? It was thoughts such as those that consumed me as I drove to work. Maybe Ben didn't have to worry about where his next paycheck was coming from, but I certainly did.
Was I willing to risk it, even for Ben?
The Billionaire’s Bluff #5
Chapter 1
There was no doubt in world that I needed to work up my courage to even venture upstairs, let alone ask to speak to the boss as Ben had requested. The more I thought about it, the more nervous I got. Who was I to ask or get involved in this decision made by the management regarding Ben’s welcome or unwelcome presence at the casino? I had never ventured upstairs unless I was requested, and those incidents left me feeling nothing short of nauseated.
I had never gotten into trouble at the casino. Never. I was only late once, I had yet to call in a sick day, and I think I did a pretty darn good job there. I knew there were some dealers who called in often and who came up with excuses giving their shift to someone else or just disappearing, but I wasn't one of them. I needed in my job and I didn't like the idea of doing anything that might endanger it.
Still, I wanted to help Ben. I had gotten the distinct impression that he wasn't planning on cheating because he couldn't make it any other way. For Ben, it was a more of an "I want to see if I can get away with it" kind of cheating. If he got caught, it seemed to me that he didn't really care. It was a thrill. Which got me thinking something else – was Ben's life so lacking in purpose that he found thrills in doing things he probably shouldn't be?
I knew rich people had their issues just like everybody else. I knew some guys from Jersey who had bought sports cars; I think one of them was a Porsche, the other a Lamborghini. Because they didn't have anything better to do, and I guess because they figured they were entitled to, they would race up and down residential streets at about two o'clock in the morning just for the heck of it. The fact that they woke up everyone in that neighborhood and could've hit someone or spun out of control and taken out a half a dozen cars in the process didn't even cross their minds.
I had seen rich people do a lot of stupid things. I thought that what Ben was doing was stupid, but it was his life. At the same time, I really wanted to make up for getting him banned in the first place. I didn't know exactly what I was going to say to the boss or whoever I spoke to about it. Chances were I wouldn't even be able to see the boss, the owner, or the manager of the casino. I would have to go up the chain of command, first starting with security. That would be a task in itself. In many cases, if someone wanted to speak to upper management, they would put in a request to do so and it went through proper channels. Unless it was an emergency, of course, and this wasn’t an emergency. If the question or issue could be answered before it reached the top, it was.
Ben hadn't said anything about it over the past couple of days. We had gone out once, just for dinner and a walk, nothing fancy. But I knew he was waiting. I think he sensed my hesitance and my nervousness, so he was giving me time. Still, if I was going to do it, I needed to do it soon or I would lose my courage altogether.
So it was that two days after Ben first mentioned it to me that I woke up and decided today was the day. I might as well just get it over with. No big deal. If I went upstairs and explained my side of the story, the answer would be yes or no. Done. I would have fulfilled my personal obligation to Ben to have gone up and tried to clear up the issue. Then, I would be done with it. I wouldn’t feel guilty over his being banned if that was what the owner wanted. I could at least say my piece, not that it had much value.
The more I thought about doing it, the more nervous I became. I showered and dressed in a state of anxiety. Not hands trembling kind of anxiety, but I had butterflies in my stomach. Every time I thought about getting into the elevator to go upstairs, my heart began to beat faster.
I had been running scenarios through my mind constantly since Ben had asked me to do this, but I always came back to the same issue. I needed to make it up to him. I had essentially gotten him banned, through Savannah, and I needed to do something about it. It was my fault that he'd been kicked out of the casino. I could classify our relationship as a little rocky, but for me, that was usual.
When I thought back about dating my ex-husband and then this relationship with Ben, I realized that my ex-husband must've been on his absolute best behavior while we were dating and throughout the short engagement. The moment we had gotten married, things changed. He didn’t try so hard to keep me happy, or to listen, or to do things with me… What was the point of getting married if he didn’t even want to be with me?
I thought that perhaps the relationship that I was developing with Ben was a little healthier. Any couple getting to know one another should be able to fight, to disagree, and to then make up if possible. Again, when I thought back to my early relationship with my ex-husband, I realized he had often patronized me, not too obviously, but he’d pretty much gone along with everything I said. I didn't want to repeat the same mistake with Ben. Then again, my ex-husband had never asked me to cheat. He had done plenty of that damage all by himself.
I still had definite feelings about Ben's desire to see if he could get away with cheating at the casino. I didn’t like the idea. Not one bit. I didn't see the thrill in it. Then again, I guess different things drive different people. I kept thinking about Evil Knievel and all the stunts he attempted and I could never understand why he put himself through that. Of course, Ben’s thrill-seeking ways were a little more sedate, but I didn't understand it and couldn't pretend to.
I had never been compelled to do things like that. Maybe other people had. What did I know? What had compelled my ex to be a chronic cheater? To see if he could get away with it? Because it was forbidden by our marriage vows? I didn’t understand those who sought thrills from doing things that were illegal or could hurt someone else. Not one bit.
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br /> By the time I arrived at the casino a half hour before my shift started, I was a nervous wreck. I just kept telling myself that I had to make up for what I had done. It wasn't my fault that Savannah had blabbed, but I should've kept that information to myself. If I had seen the signs, if I had been absolutely one hundred percent sure that Ben was cheating at cards, counting or otherwise, I would have been obligated to report it. In that case, I was being honest. I did not have proof.
I went through the proper channels. I clutched my purse tightly to my chest. I wasn’t afraid anybody was going to take it away from me, even though it was searched when I first entered the casino security offices, but it disguised my trembling hands. When I explained to security that I wanted to talk to Mister Zanderini about an issue on the floor, I was asked what it was about by the head of security. I told him that I believed that someone had been unjustly accused of cheating. Not very surprisingly, he asked me why I felt that way. I supposed I would have to repeat the story several times as I went up the chain of command, so, with as much confidence as I could, I tried to briefly explain the situation.
The man in question regularly visited my table. Then, I had gotten into a bit of a falling out with one of the cocktail waitresses. I believed that out of spite, the waitress had unjustly accused the man of cheating.
“Why would she do that?" he asked.
I shrugged. To be honest, I didn't know why Savannah had said anything. "Jealousy?” I guessed. “I’m just not sure." The security manager looked at me for several moments and said nothing. Maybe I ought to say a little more. "You see the gentleman in question was beginning to show me some attention. Of course, I didn't accept any gifts that he brought to the casino, which you can verify with your security staff," I said nervously.
He said nothing, and I rushed forward. "At any rate, I want to see if there's anything I can do to clear this up."
"And why do you care so much?"
Why did I care so much? I couldn't reveal my relationship with Ben or the fact that we were seeing each other because that would blow things way out of proportion. I frowned. "I don't like to see anyone unjustly accused," I said. That was the honest truth. "Now, I may not know the entire story, but I just feel as if I ought to say something. Of course, Mister Zanderini has the final say and I'm not here to put forth an argument, but just to perhaps add a new perspective to the situation."
The security guard stared at me for several more moments and then shrugged.
"I think you're wasting your time, but it's your time," he commented. "You do know that you won't be able to talk to him directly unless you can convince his personal aide, William Carson, that you have a legitimate concern?"
I nodded. "I understand."
The security guard gestured for me to go ahead and I stepped to the elevators taking me up to the top floor. My heart pounded with nervous anxiety. I had done all right with the head of security, and I hadn't lied about anything. Still, I had omitted a variety of facts, which I did feel guilty about, but I didn't want to get myself in trouble here.
I managed to relate the same story to William Carson, and although he didn't seem at all interested, he informed me that Mister Zanderini had a few minutes and could see me. He, like the security chief, didn't think anything was going to come of it, but I didn’t think he really cared.
In a matter of minutes, I found myself standing in front of Mister Zanderini’s office door. William Carson stood next to me as he knocked two times on the door.
"Enter."
Carson entered first, then stepped back and gestured for me to enter. To say that Mister Zanderini's office was opulent would be an understatement. Three of the four walls of the office were made of glass, providing a stupendous view of the city beneath him. The furniture, the desk, the chairs, the bookcases, and a coffee table, were all chrome and glass. Behind a coffee table was a white leather couch. Beside that was a wet bar built into the back corner.
I had only seen Mister Zanderini once or twice over the years I had worked here. I think he had a private elevator. He was an impressive man that reminded me of an elderly mob boss. Cliché, I knew, because for one, neither he nor the casino was involved in mob dealings – at least, I hadn’t seen any signs of such – and two, no one who worked here portrayed that old mob mentality or attitude. Then again, what did I know?
He glanced up from some paperwork, did a double take when he saw me, and then put his pen down, lifting a questioning eyebrow at Carson.
"Mister Zanderini, this is Maggie. She’s a Blackjack dealer on the floor. She has a concern that she would like to address with you."
The boss looked at me, at Carson, and then back at me.
"Did she go through channels?"
"Yes, sir."
Zanderini leaned back in his chair, folded his hands over his stomach, and then eyed me.
"What can I do for you, Miss Maggie?"
For a few seconds, I froze. He had such piercing dark eyes and they were riveted on me. "I…I just think an injustice was done to a gentleman who was banned from the casino a week or so ago," I began. He gestured with me to continue, rotating his finger as if I was taking up valuable time. "You see, I believe he was unjustly accused of cheating and he was escorted off the floor by security and brought upstairs here. As I mentioned to security and to Mister Carson here, I believe it was nothing more than a misunderstanding."
Again, Zanderini said nothing, and I forged ahead. "You see, a friend of mine works here, Savannah…she's a cocktail waitress, and I think she just made the claim out of spite and made it up-"
"And, why would she make something like that up?"
His eyes never left mine. He made me incredibly nervous. Should I fess up? Should I tell? "You see, the gentleman, his name is Ben-"
Zanderini held up his hand. "I know of whom you're talking. Continue."
"Well, for the past couple of months he's been coming to my Blackjack table," I explained. "He's given me a couple of gifts, which I did not accept and which I told Mister Carson and the security chief downstairs could be verified. At any rate, I think that Savannah was jealous, and…well…after she told me what she had done, I thought that I should say something, to try to make it right."
He said nothing for several moments, and then glanced at Carson. Carson shrugged. Then, Zanderini looked back at me, this time sitting forward at his desk, hands crossed.
"So tell me…?"
"Maggie," I said.
He nodded. "So tell me, Maggie, what is the nature of your relationship with Ben?"
I stared a moment. How much to say? I didn't want to lie, so I knew I had to stick to the truth, just not too much of it. "He comes to my table every night. We exchange pleasantries. He seems like a nice guy, and I've enjoyed seeing him-"
Zanderini leaned back in his chair. His expression gave nothing away. "When this issue arose and Savannah came up to see us, I naturally asked to view the security tapes."
My heart thumped erratically in my chest. The eyes in the sky. Every move was captured and recorded. Had they seen something?
"It looks to me as if Ben came to your table every night. And, you know what I noticed?"
I stared at him with wide eyes. "No sir, what-"
"I noticed when he first came in, you were polite, friendly, and sometimes even flirtatious," Zanderini commented, nodding. "That’s what I like to see the dealers do. But after the first week, I got the impression that you two really enjoyed seeing one another."
I said nothing. He had made a statement, not a question, so should I say something? "I did become more comfortable and used to seeing him there, sure," I said. "Sometimes he came in at the same time-"
"You know what else I noticed? He never came in on your days off."
I frowned. Now that surprised me. "He didn't?" I hadn't realized that. After all, I wasn't the only Blackjack dealer in the casino.
"Are you going to tell me that you didn't know that?"
"Yes," I swallowed. "I mea
n, no, I didn't know that."
"You know what else I saw?"
I began to feel nauseated. Any moment now, I felt as if my knees were going to start wobbling. Was this a bad omen? I was getting the distinct impression that I had just walked into a less than positive situation. I knew it. I shouldn’t have come up here at all. I should not have listened to Ben. I shouldn’t have allowed him to convince me to come up here.
I was starting to get the feeling I had stepped into a distinctly unpleasant situation. Zanderini intimidated me, no question about that. His blank expression and no-nonsense attitude took me off guard. While he seemed to listen to me and was polite, I also got the distinct impression that I was no more to him than a mosquito. A bother. A nuisance. I should never have come up here. I began to feel that more and more. I wanted to turn around and run out of the room, down the stairs, and to the main floor. I wanted to get to work, to pretend that none of this ever happened.
"As the weeks passed, I began to see an easy camaraderie between you two,” Zanderini commented, glancing at Carson.
Then his eyes riveted on mine again. “Be that as it may, there's something else that bothers me even more."
This time, I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to open my mouth unless he asked me a direct question. I just wanted to get out of here. In fact, I wished I could just turn tail and run right now. I fought to maintain my position and tried to push the thought of running away from my mind. I didn't want to be here. Anywhere but here! I had never been so intimidated in my life. This plea on the half of Ben wasn't going to do any good. I knew that now. All I had managed to accomplish was putting myself in front of the owner and boss of the casino. Had I just painted a bull's-eye on my back? Had I put my job and myself in danger?
If there was one thing you didn't want to be as a dealer in Atlantic City, it was noticed. Once you get noticed, regardless of the reason, you were watched everywhere. It didn't matter for what reason you were noticed – you might as well just pin a target on your back or wear a flashing hat. The eyes in the sky watched you. Endlessly. Security was a little more attentive to you, as were the pit bosses.