James Swain - Super Con

“The equipment at the MGM properties is flawed,” he said.

“It’s flawed at all their casinos?”

“Yup. The parent company switched suppliers, and the new company screwed up.”

“No wonder you want to jump on it. What happens when MGM finds out the equipment isn’t working properly?”

“We’ll be long gone by then.”

“You said that you were using football players as takeoff men. Be careful. I worked a scam in Atlantic City with two guys who played baseball for the Yankees and they were a nightmare. Never again.”

“Why... did they try to hit on you?”

“Guys hit on me all the time. I don’t have an issue with that. The problem is with dumb jocks. Most of them are spoiled rotten brats who never grew up. You tell them to do one thing, and they say yes, then do another thing entirely. I later checked out the baseball players and learned they’d been in trouble their whole lives but were never held accountable. They were a total liability.”

“The football players have been working a poker scam. They’re part-time grifters.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re still jocks, and used to having things their own way. Mark my words, one of them will go sideways on you. It’s their nature.”

The street entrance to Mandalay Bay resembled a temple and was designed to make visitors feel like royalty. Once inside, Mags headed straight for the Eyecandy Lounge while Billy wanted to check out the blackjack pit. The pit boss was another rookie. Beautiful.

He entered the lounge to find Mags watching a couple practice their moves on the dance floor. “Pit boss isn’t going to be a problem,” he said.

“Then let’s do it.”

Mags started to stand. Billy placed a gentle hand on her sleeve and she sat back down. “Would you reconsider joining my crew? Your chops are incredible. Run with me, and you’ll never get caught again. That’s a promise you can take to the bank.”

“I thought you already had a mechanic. What’s his name? Travis?”

“Travis is out of the picture. I need to find a replacement.”

“Is that what I am, a replacement? Not interested, thanks the same.”

“I’ll make you a partner. You’ll get half.”

“Jesus, Billy, what’s come over you?”

“We were made to work together. I know it, and so do you.”

Normally, he would have never had this conversation while on a job. But he’d decided it was now or never. If Mags didn’t join now, she’d leave town and he’d never see her again, and he didn’t think he could live with that. He wanted another chance to make things right and see what might happen. And he was willing to split the money just to give it a shot.

She rose from the table. “The only thing I know right now is that I need a nice long vacation when this is over. You’re going to have to wait for your answer.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said.

“I will.”

And with that, she entered the casino.

The last two stops on the victory tour were the Mirage and Aria. As with the three previous stops, the pit bosses were new to their jobs, and Mags painted the high cards at single-deck games in each casino without drawing any heat.

They drove back to Billy’s place so Mags could pick up her car from the valet. Mags sensed that Billy wanted an answer, only she wasn’t prepared to make a commitment just yet. She needed to let her head clear before she jumped back into a life of thievery.

Billy parked in front of the empty valet stand.

“Does the valet have another business on the side he’s running?” she asked.

“Everybody in this place has another business on the side,” he said.

“When am I going to see my money?”

“How about tomorrow night? I can drop by and deliver it, take you out to dinner.”

And work her over some more.

“Call me first,” she said.

Mags drove to LINQ. She needed to collect her things from her suite and check out of the hotel. It was going to be tough leaving the life of a TV actress behind, but she could handle it. She’d walked arm in arm with bad luck and trouble for most of her life and had gotten used to the special brand of misery they created.

She checked out at the front desk and said good-bye to the receptionist. Going outside, she pulled her wheeled suitcase to the curb where the valet had parked her car. Rand, her betrayer, stood a few yards away, chatting on his cell phone. Every man she’d ever known had done a number on her at one time or another; it seemed to be part of the male genetic makeup. But Rand was the ultimate destroyer of dreams, and she got right in his face.

“Hey, asshole.”

“Hold on a second,” Rand said to whoever he was talking to. “There you are. What’s with the crazy getup? You look like a street person.”

Mags snatched the cell phone out of his hand and gave it a heave. It landed on the concrete with a sickening crash, its face going dark. Rand yelped like he’d been kicked.

“That was the head of CBS I was talking to!”

“You crummy shit, I should cut your balls off!”

“What’s come over you? You’re acting like a demon.”

“How do you expect me to act? You cancel the show and run out, and don’t even have the courtesy to tell me? You are the most two-faced bastard I’ve ever met.”

“Who said the show was cancelled?”

“It’s not?”

“Hell no!” He paused to make sure she wasn’t going to attack him, then said, “We have a date with destiny, Mags. You and me.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not here. I’ll tell you in a nicer setting, where we can celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“You’re going to be a star, my friend. And I’m going to be able to tell people that I was there when it happened.”

Guy Fieri’s Vegas Kitchen & Bar had a respectable lunch crowd. Rand got them seated at a booth next to the window and ordered the signature Tattooed Mojitos and a plate of sliders.

“Why did you run out on me?” she said, in no mood for games.

“I got a call from the head honchos at CBS two days ago, telling me to jump on a plane and get back to LA on the double,” he said. “I figured they were going to drop the ax and cancel the show. It’s not the first time it’s happened to me.”

“You could have told me that before.”

“Wait, it gets better.”

The drinks came, and he clinked his glass against hers and took a mighty sip. “Boy, that tastes good. Where was I? Oh right, in LA with the boys at CBS. I walk into a huge meeting room, and there are six of them huddled around a desk like a bunch of squirrels. They rush me, and I think, what’s going on? Are you going to leave your drink? It’s really tasty.”

“Cut to the chase,” she said.

“You don’t look happy. What’s wrong?”

She nearly stuck a fork into his face, just to see if he’d bleed. “Everything’s wrong. Now tell me what the hell’s going on before I mutilate you.”

“That’s funny. Okay, so the boys at CBS are shaking my hand and making nice. It’s a real love-in. And one of them says, ‘She’s amazing, Rand. We watched the tape of her doing the Savannah move and were blown away. Where did you find her?’ I told them that I met you playing poker and that you cleaned me out. That sealed the deal.”

“What deal? What are you talking about?”

“You sure you don’t want your drink?”

Mags pushed her untouched glass across the table. Rand lifted it to his lips and took a healthy gulp. “Boy, that tastes good.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to poke your eye out.”

“I was just getting to that part. It seems the boys at CBS weren’t sold on Night and Day . The plot was a little too esoteric for them, if you can believe that. They were planning to run the pilot next summer to see if anyone watched it. That all changed when they saw you doing the Savannah move. You rocked their world, Mags.”