Alex had hoped to apologize to the midget on
the way out for his previous behavior, which he now sensed was
somehow inappropriate, but the little guy was nowhere to be found.
Because of the relative hassle entering the club, the exit was
surprisingly immediate, and the three found themselves thrust back
into the perimeter of the casino. Although music was playing,
currently
Living on a Prayer
by Bon Jovi, it was decisively
quieter outside of the club. Each of the three noticed a slight
echoing sensation inside their heads, as if they were in a cave and
a water pump was active somewhere in the distance. It was also a
lot lighter. The small group gave themselves about thirty seconds
to adjust before advancing further to find a suitable craps table.
Gary, who somewhere in the last thirty minutes had crossed over the
threshold from drunk to very drunk, failed to notice the one step
down into the casino, lost his balance and fell to the floor, his
head narrowly missing the side of a Wheel of Fortune slot machine.
He popped himself back up and held a pose like Mary Lou Retton
after her famous vault. Alex and Roger clapped for him. Then Roger
jumped on his back and gave him a bear hug.
The population of the casino was notably
thinner than earlier in the night, but there was still a good
crowd, and the energy level remained high enough to motivate them.
The Red Bull probably helped.
The first craps table they encountered looked
appealing. It was about two-thirds full and seemed to have good
energy as the participants were applauding the previous roll
enthusiastically. Alex leaned in and noticed it was a $10 minimum
table, which was good because he knew this was what Gary preferred
to bet. Also, there was a space on the corner big enough for the
three of them to squeeze in. Alex stepped toward the opening and
had his wallet halfway out of his pants when he noticed another
table on the other side of the pit. This one had only six players,
two middle-aged Italian-looking men on one side and four girls who
Alex remembered vaguely from the dance floor in the club on the
other side. Both of the Italian guys were wearing white pants with
white shoes and designer shirts complemented by gold watches and
gold cross chains. Each of the girls wore high heels and short
brightly colored dresses. One was slightly overweight, but all were
highly attractive.
Alex instinctively veered right and began
making his way toward the other table. Roger and Gary followed,
none of them managing to walk in exactly a straight line. When they
arrived, Alex saw it was a $25 minimum. He checked the chip racks
on the table and noted with interest that each of the girls had
well over a thousand dollars worth of chips in front of them. This
was quite rare, especially as they appeared to be in their
mid-twenties. He was intrigued.
Roger and Gary caught up. Alex immediately
began selling the wisdom of playing at this table to Gary,
expecting it to be difficult to persuade him to play for higher
stakes. Perhaps because of the alcohol, it was not. Before Alex
could really get started, Gary patted him on the shoulder, walked
past him, and sidled up next to the girl at the end of the row.
Gary removed his wallet from his pants and offered four
hundred-dollar bills to the dealer to exchange for chips. Roger and
Alex exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders, a bemused grin
on both of their faces. By the time they could join him at the
table, Gary already had $25 on the pass line, had his arm around
one of the girl’s shoulders, and had said something funny enough to
get all of them laughing.
Alex moved to stand next to Gary, and Roger
positioned himself next to Alex. Both took out $500 and bought
twenty $25 chips. Unlike every other casino, which used green for
the $25 chips, the Hard Rock used purple. Alex inspected his and
noticed the one on top was a commemorative chip featuring Madonna.
He put it in his pocket for good luck and placed the remaining
chips in the rack in front of him. While doing so, Gary introduced
his friends to the girls who all smiled and offered their names.
From left to right, they were Gina, Kelly, Natasha and Berlin. Alex
repeated the names several times in his mind, hoping to remember
them for future use, then patted Gary on the back, remembering how
good of a wingman he had been back in his single days. He was quite
pleased to see his friend having so much fun.
During the introductions, one of the Italians
rolled the dice and hit his point. The girls all raised their hands
above their heads in appreciation and began clapping as the dealer
paid out their bets as well as Gary’s. Gary moved behind them to
offer each a high five, which the girls reciprocated while
laughing.
Gary returned to his spot and placed another
chip on the pass line. Each of the girls bet two chips, as did Alex
and Roger. The Italian rolled again and everyone watched as the
dice tumbled toward their side of the table. The dealer announced,
“Eleven. Pay the line.”
The stickman collected the dice to slide back
to the Italian and the other dealer paid out the pass line bets.
Everyone placed the same bet.
Hoping to establish more of a connection with
the girls, Alex decided this was an opportune time to tell his
standard ice-breaking joke. He motioned for the girls to lean
closer and began:
“So, there are two muffins in an oven . .
.
One muffin turns to the other muffin and
says, “Holy shit! It is hot in here!”
Then the other muffin turns to the first one
and says, “Holy shit! . . . A talking muffin!”
The two closest girls, Natasha and Berlin,
laughed loudly. Berlin reached across Gary and patted Alex on the
shoulder to tell him how funny he was. The other two, Gina and
Kelly, found the joke to be stupid and looked at each other,
exchanging the universal female “whatever” face. Gary, who had
heard this joke many times before, had a similar reaction.
The moment was broken with another role of
the dice, this time a seven and another winner. This made everyone
happy. Gary stepped back to again slap hands with the girls.
Alex, watching Gary go through his high-five
routine again, was again overcome with a surge of happiness. Having
already had a very fun night, he felt certain that it would only
get better. In recent months, Alex had begun to feel increasing
anxiety about getting older, but at that moment he felt he would
live forever, and live well at that. Convinced that his yellow
sweater represented the height of fashion, he felt not only healthy
but extremely attractive. As Gary returned to offer him a high five
Alex realized he was beginning to tear up from joy and was at risk
of crying. This was not the impression he wanted to make on the
girls and he turned away from the table, pretending to cough as
soon as he slapped Gary’s hand.
The Italian hit one more point, and then
crapped out. Each of the girls rolled with mediocre results. Alex
managed to win $200 anyway because he had a superstition that you
should always bet the most when the girl with the biggest tits at
the table had the dice. It proved a successful strategy this time,
as well-endowed Natasha hit two points, including a high-paying
four.
Making things even better, by the time the
dice got to Gary, the cocktail waitress returned with three glasses
of Stolichnaya on ice for the boys and four cosmopolitans for the
girls. Roger, a notorious over-tipper when he was winning, gave the
waitress a purple chip and told her to return quickly.
Gary rolled a five to establish a point and
everyone placed double odds behind their pass line bets. His next
few rolls were meaningless and there was a lull in the
conversation. “I wanna come!” Alex announced loudly, and he and
Roger placed $25 come bets as well. The girls again had a split
opinion on his humor and were content with their original bets,
which Alex noticed had increased to $100 on the pass line with $200
odds.
Roger: “Where the fuck is Mike? I can’t
believe he is missing this.”
Alex: “I don’t know. It is disturbing. I
mean, how often do we all get out here together and he goes and
gets all morose just because some broad is married. I mean, what
the fuck?”
Gary: “Take it easy on the guy. He has been
cool, he just gets bummed out sometimes. Anyway, maybe he will meet
up with us soon. Perhaps he just had another emergency run to the
toilette. Maybe you can trap him in the shitter again, or do it to
some poor innocent woman again.”
Alex was concerned about how the girls would
perceive Gary’s drunken comments, but they appeared to be ignoring
the whole conversation and were focused on the dice. Gary rolled
again, this time a meaningless three. Alex checked his phone to see
if there was any response from Mike. Indeed, there was a new text.
It read, “Okay. Have fun. Don’t w8 for me. C u at Palms.” Alex
flipped his phone shut and put it back in his pocket.
Alex: “Nope, he is done for the night. It is
sad. Kind of pisses me off also.”
Roger: “Relax, he will be with us all day and
night tomorrow. Let’s have some fun and hit some numbers.”
Alex: “I guess so. I wonder if we pissed him
off somehow. I can’t see how.”
Gary: “No, I was with him. He was just upset
about the girl. He isn’t like you who just ramps everyone in sight
and then doesn’t care if anything comes of it.”
Alex again checked the girls, hoping his
chances were not thoroughly destroyed by Gary’s unfiltered lips,
but they were still involved in their own conversation and not
paying the least bit of attention until Gary picked up the dice
again. When he did, he held them in his right hand and started
performing a ridiculous dance to the music. Appropriately, the
casino was now playing
Wannabe
by the Spice Girls.
Gary: “Check it out Alex, it’s your song.
Give me a quick monkey-noise.”
Alex: “I don’t think so, dude.”
Gary: “Come on. Just do it. One time.”
Alex looked at Gary, who was dancing alone
while holding the one hand with the dice above the table to keep
the dealers happy, and he broke out in a smile. He reminded himself
that he came to have a good time with his buddies and shouldn’t
care what the girls thought. He put his hand on his head and began
moving it back and forth like a pigeon, puckered his lips, then let
out a loud, “Ooh-ooh, aah-aah!.”
With that, Gary threw the dice to the far end
of the table where the Italians were watching, entirely unamused
with the antics of the shooter and his friend. The dice settled
under the Italians, a three and a two. “Five, front line winner,”
the dealer announced.
With this, Alex did another “Ooh-ooh,
aah-aah” and gave Gary a hug. Before turning to give Roger a high
five, he glanced at the girls. To his satisfaction, all were
smiling and two of them had a look in their eye that, despite his
drunkenness, he understood well. Unfortunately, he could no longer
remember any of their names. One of them might have been Moscow?
But this wouldn’t matter anyway. The dealer decided to start paying
them with black $100 chips instead of the purple ones, and he
scooped up his winnings.
Gary rolled a seven on the come-out role but
couldn’t hit his next point. Alex disappointed the group by making
a six on his first roll and immediately crapping out. He apologized
and then lit a cigarette to try and bring luck back to the table,
another one of his stupid superstitions. It worked to some extent
as Roger was able to hit two points before crapping out and the
first Italian managed the same, including another four. The
waitress returned with another round of Stolis. This time only two
of the girls took new cosmos.
No matter how drunk he was, Alex had an
uncanny ability to sum the value of a stack of casino chips very
accurately and very quickly, earning him the nickname Rain Man some
years ago. He scanned the racks and was pleased to see that he and
Roger were now up over $700 and even Gary was up $525.
On the far side of the table, the Italians
were conversing about something before the come out roll, and Alex
noted that they increased their line bet to $500. Inspired, he and
Roger increased theirs to $200. Gary, who already had a $50 bet
placed, took a large pull of Stoli from his glass and added another
six purple chips to his bet. The Italian rolled a nine.
Both of the Italians placed double odds, as
did the girls. For some reason, Alex was intimidated by the nine
and decided only to lay single odds. Gary, who historically rarely
had more than $100 on the table, followed Alex’s lead. Roger placed
the full double odds.
“Let’s get right back on that nine,” Roger
exclaimed, nearly shouting.
Alex looked to his right and saw Gary had his
arm around the closest girl again, a silly nervous grin on his
face. Alex began fumbling for a new cigarette when he realized
everyone was waiting for him. Confused, he looked around trying to
figure out what was the problem. One of the girls pointed to the
other end of the table at the Italians.
The man with the dice in his hand said to
Alex in heavily accented English, “Za monkey. Do za monkey, per
favor.”
Alex put the cigarettes back in his pocket
and stepped back from the table. He put one fist down to the floor
and wiggled his butt back and forth, emitting a loud “Ooohhh-oohh,
aaahh-aaahh,” in the process. For good measure, he stood back up,
placed a hand on top of his head and issued a few more monkey
noises.
The Italian threw the dice. No one was the
least bit surprised when another nine appeared. “Atta boy! Right
back on that nine,” Roger exclaimed loudly. The girls were all
high-fiving each other and two of them came over to give Alex a
high five as well.
The Italians, in imitation of the girls,
awkwardly gave each other a high five and one of them said to Alex,
“Yes. The monkey. Bravo, Monkey-man! Very good American
monkey!”