Sin City (41 page)

It's a good thing I like blue because I keep getting more blue chips. Soon I have three big piles of them. Tony says I'm on a lucky streak. Our Lady must be helping me because I don't know how to play. I just follow Sally-Ann, wait for her to choose a square, then take the one beside it. She's getting rather angry. I pray I'll start to lose soon, so she'll go on being friendly.

I win again.

“Shit!” says the tall man. “If snakes and ladders makes you so damned lucky, I'll stay at home for Chrissakes and play it with the kids.”

People are crowding round our table, watching, whispering. Some of them must think it's a real game because they start throwing money down, trying to join in. Tony has to give it back. I begin to feel excited. It
is
a real game. We're playing in a real casino with real chips and real live people. There isn't any money, that's the only difference. I'm still winning more than anyone. Even more than Sally-Ann, who's been coming to Las Vegas every year for twenty-seven years. And more than those two men who look very rich and clever and wear proper suits like doctors.

The people standing round keep pointing to my piles of chips. I feel very grand and special like I did in the priest's car. I'm a winner. I'm on a lucky streak. Tony says I'll probably win all evening. He says lucky streaks often last a day or two, especially with beginners. “Beginner's luck,” he smiles.

“Okay, folks, that's it for today. Tomorrow there's no class – New Year's Day. Next class Monday morning, ten o'clock – baccarat. But between now and then, get on these roulette tables. Now you know the basics, try your luck – especially Norah. When you're on a lucky streak, you've got to get your money into action. Get it out of your pocket or your purse and put it on the tables. That applies to all of you. You're all winners in Las Vegas.”

I start collecting up my chips, my hands still damp and shaky from excitement. Tony used my name, called me Norah. He smiled at me again, just me. He's got a lovely smile like Carole's, which goes right up to his eyes. I open up my handbag, pour the chips in.

“Hold on, Madam. Those aren't yours to keep.”

“But I thought you said I'd won?”

“Yeah, you won, sure you won, but the chips stay here with me. You buy your own chips, right? Just go up to any table, put five dollars down and you'll be given twenty chips, each one worth a quarter like I said. Okay?”

He's frowning now, not smiling, checking all the chips as I tip them out again. I hope he didn't think that I was stealing. He called me Madam and Madam means they're cross.

“Right, folks, thanks for coming – and remember what I said: find a weakness in the game and attack that weakness. Don't forget your corner bets, your combination bets, or if you want to keep it simple, just bet red or black, or odd or even. But above all, get your money on a table.”

I can't get it on a table because Sally-Ann's linked her arm through mine and says how about a drink. I'm so glad she's friends again, I let her lead me to the bar. I don't know why it's open when it's only afternoon, and I thought she meant a cup of tea, not cocktails. I try and force mine down because it's not polite to leave it when she's paid. She's not whispering now, she's talking very loudly about coffins, and how much it cost when her second husband died.

“That was the only time he didn't bawl me out for overspendin' – at his funeral. Have you been married, Norah?”

I shake my head. I wouldn't like a husband. They always shout a lot and you'd have to share your bed. I'd like to wear a ring, though. A ring means someone wants you. Sally-Ann has rings on every finger. If I won enough, I could buy a ring, as well as just the dress.

My straw makes a rude noise in my drink. I wipe my mouth, stand up. “It's my friend who's getting married,” I explain. “I'm going to buy her dress.”

Sally-Ann asks which stores I'm trying and I tell her how I have to win the money first. She laughs a lot and chokes into her glass. Then she says if I really want to gamble, to start Downtown, not here, because the pace is slower, and the minimum bets are lower than on the Strip.

I'm not sure what she means and I'm feeling rather dizzy from the drink. I lean against the wall, ask her where Downtown is.

“You've never been Downtown, hon? Gud! You gotta see it. They call it Glitter Gulch and – jeez – it glitters! You get right down there, Norah – take a cab. You'll love it. The dealers are less smart-assed than here, so it's easier to ask for help and if you make mistakes, well, no big deal – not like these swell joints where they freeze you off if you so much as open your mouth. I'd come with you, Norah, honey, but I've got a date – a guy from Michigan. Don't worry, you'll be fine.”

She digs into her handbag, passes me a long and speckled orange thing, like a snake, but soft.

“Norah, honey, I'd like for you to have this.”

I back away, don't really like to touch it. I don't know what it is.

“Don't worry, it won't bite. Not that end, anyway.” She laughs again, then starts to cough, finds us both a cough sweet. “It's a lucky Tiger's Tail. You only gotta stroke it and you get four hundred times more luck. Go on, honey, take it. I've got two dozen more the same. They were half-price in the store. Discontinued line, they said. I don't know why. We all need luck, for God's sake.”

The earrings sway and jingle as she staggers up. She's kissing me. She's really kissing me. She smells of powder. I can feel her corsets. She pulls away, pats my hand. “Now remember, honey, if you're ever in Washington, DC, or Dover, Mass, just call me up, okay?”

She likes me. I've made another friend. She's given me a present, four hundred times more luck. She kissed me, called me honey. Tony called me honey. I'm lucky. I'm a winner. I'm going to see Downtown.

She walks me to the door, tries to call a cab for me, but I want to change my clothes first. You have to be dressed up to play roulette. I try to run, past the taxis, out into the street, but that drink I had has leaked into my legs. It takes me quite a time to find the Gold Rush.

It's crowded like the Hilton. The whole downstairs is blocked with queues and luggage, and the passage to our room is filled with those men from the convention who stay up half the night and make so much noise you can't get back to sleep. I'm so scared I drop my key. A big man picks it up for me, but I knock first anyway, in the hope that Carole's there, though I know she's meeting Reuben somewhere else.

She isn't there. I take my Beechgrove suit off, wash my face. I'd like to have a bath, but there isn't time. I smell myself. I smell of Beechgrove, even in Las Vegas, so I put a lot of talcum powder on, and then the Gold Rush frock. I've never worn a cocktail frock before. This one has no back, but rows and rows of little beads sewn on to the front. My brassiere is showing quite a lot. I dare not take it off because then my chest falls down, and anyway, it's rude.

I put my old green cardigan on top, which hides the brassiere, but also hides the beads. The shoes look rather odd. I wish I had red party shoes, instead of big brown lace-ups. Sally-Ann wore lipstick, bright and shiny red. A streak of it has come off on my cheek. I rub it in, spread some on the other cheek. My face looks better, pinker. I've never worn lipstick in my life. I could put some on my lips, but I'd have to borrow Carole's, and Reverend Mother said borrowing is stealing if you haven't asked.

I replace my glasses, comb my hair. I'd like to put my coat on. I always feel safer in a coat. But you couldn't see the frock then. And you're not allowed to play roulette in coats. I'll carry it instead, with my bag and gloves, and a plastic bag for the wedding dress, in case it rains and I need to keep it dry.

I'm ready. No, I'm not. I go back to the wardrobe, reach right to the back, unwrap the towel and then the layers of tissue until I reach the silver shamrock. My mother gave me that. She pinned it on my shawl when I was born. Shamrocks mean good luck. They come from Ireland. A man called St Patrick drove away the snakes with them. There are no snakes left in Ireland now, not even in the zoo.

My shamrock's really lucky because it's the only thing which no one's ever stolen. I've always had to hide it, but the other things I hid were stolen just the same. I think my mother guards it. She may be still alive, or gone to heaven. I don't know what she looks like, but I imagine her as pretty with red shoes.

I put the shamrock in my purse, in the compartment where you're meant to keep a photo. I've never had a photograph. I'd like one of my mother, with me sitting on her lap. I'd like to see her eyes and touch her hair. Perhaps I'll even find her now. A Tiger Tail and shamrock both together probably mean a thousand times more luck.

There are no stairs in America and all the lifts are full, then I waste more time waiting for a cab. I'm frightened of the cab drivers. I think they all have guns. But I don't know where Downtown is and Sally-Ann said take one.

“Where shall I drop you off, Ma' am?”

I don't say anything. I'm staring out of the window. Downtown is ugly, very ugly. The streets look old and poor, and there are lots of poky little shops and horrid cheap motels with dirty faces. There are no trees or flowers or green, just dead grey pavements with flashing signs above them which seem to shout and scream.

The cab drives on a bit. Now there are casinos, not grand ones like the Gold Rush, or huge ones like the Hilton, but smaller ones, all squashed together, with crowds of people pouring in and out of them.

“Okay here?” the driver shouts.

He's stopping anyway. He tells me what the fare is. It sounds too much. I'll have to take a bus back. The driver seems quite cross, swears as he drives off.

I'm standing in the middle of the pavement with people pushing past me. A lot of them are eating. Hot dogs, ice-cream cornets, plastic pots of popcorn. There are food shops all around. I can smell doughnuts mixed with onions. I tread in dog's mess by mistake, try to scrape it off against the kerb. I'm not sure where to go, so I cross the road because everybody else is, then cross back again.

A big black sign says “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESUS”, but I can't see any church, only a film called
Take My Body
and a picture of a lady wearing just her boots. I turn my back. It's rude to look at people when they haven't got their clothes on. I see another sign: “World's Largest Gift Centre”. It isn't big at all, just a squashed-in building with pink paint peeling off it.

It's difficult to walk fast because of all the crowds. A lady stops me, smiles. She's wearing long black boots like that lady on the poster and a very short red skirt. Her smile is red as well and looks wet as if she's licked it.

“Welcome to Coin Castle.”

I can't see any castle, just a building like a cinema with slot machines inside.

“Your fortune in the stars,” she says. “Free gambling horoscope done on our computer while you wait.”

I don't know what she means. And it's difficult to hear her because there's music blaring out, and other girls are shouting things and there's a lot of noise and clatter from the coins.

“Step right in and find out what the stars say. It's real scientific. We combine computer-age technology with all the ancient wisdom of astrology. You get your own personal print-out with your special lucky numbers and whether you should play today or wait till a luckier time, and where you should put your money and …”

I step inside.

They ask me for my birth date which I've never known exactly, so I give them the month and year, and the day which Reverend Mother used to put on forms, which is the feast of St Sylvester. I don't know who he is. They say I'll have to wait a while as the computer has a fault.

There are several girls in bathing suits, sitting up above the slot machines. They keep calling out, begging me to play. I can't play yet, not without my horoscope. I stand quietly in a corner and try to think of black. They do that in the Relaxation Classes. Black is the quietest of the colours because sleep and night are black – and soot, which creeps from chimneys very softly. Red is noisiest. Screams are red, and fire engines, and nearly all the lounges in the Gold Rush. Nothing here is black. The colours are all bright and hot, and keep flashing on and off.

My horoscope is yellow when it comes, yellow paper folded like a card with purple stars dotted on the front. The print inside is very small and all the o's are missing. It calls me N rah. “Y ur sec nd name is Luck, N. rah. And thank y ur lucky stars it's Thursday because Thursday is y ur extra lucky day. N rah, riches can be y urs t day.”

Riches. Riches would buy dress and veil and wreath. Riches would buy wedding photographs. I'd stick them in a padded satin album with white doves on the cover. We saw those in the shop. I'd give them all to Carole, keep just one for myself, to put in that compartment in my purse. I don't want Reuben in it. Only Carole.

“Y ur lucky numbers, N rah, are 5, 8, and 23.” I stare down at the card. Twenty-three. It's true. That was the first number I won on at roulette. I also won on five.

I go on reading, though the words are very hard. “N rah, y ur charming and dynamic pers nality will attract a stranger wh can change y ur life. Y u will travel t a fascinating c untry far away.”

Israel … My heart is beating very fast. A stranger. A new start, like Carole said.

I walk out into the street, casinos all around me. The Pioneer, the Golden Gate, the Plaza. The computer didn't say which one. It told me to play the dollar slots, but I don't know what they are.

I'd better play roulette. I'm good at roulette. On a lucky streak. Sally-Ann said find a small casino, a homey one, one I feel in tune with. I pass a tall and frightening one, walk on.

I cross the street, turn a corner, stop. Right in front of me is a bright red flashing heart, all lit up and moving, and above it “LADY LUCK” in huge gold letters, changing now to blue. Lady Luck. I've been looking for her ever since that evening in the restaurant, when the man said to follow if she calls me. There isn't any picture of her, but I know she's beautiful. I shut my eyes and see her. She's wearing scarlet shoes, and an evening frock right down to the floor, and a tiny silver shamrock round her neck. My second name is Luck. It said so in my horoscope, so this may be my mother. Or everybody's mother, like Our Lady. I can feel her arms around me as I walk slowly in, beneath her beating heart.