James Swain - Take Down

“Three hundred,” she called out.

A pit boss came over to inspect the money.

“Go ahead,” the pit boss declared.

Ly shoved the bills down the cash slot in the table. From her tray, she removed a stack of ten green chips and a stack of ten red chips, which she pushed toward Billy. The greens were worth twenty-five dollars apiece, the reds five dollars.

“You look familiar,” the pit boss said. “Haven’t I seen you before?”

Billy didn’t think there was a pit boss in town he hadn’t ripped off at least once.

“ America’s Most Wanted ,” he replied.

“Hah. That’s a good one. Ly will take good care of you.”

The pit boss walked over to another table.

“I’m broke,” Ly said under her breath.

“You’re always broke.”

“Come on, help me.”

Billy reached into his pocket and finger-palmed a gaffed chip that Gabe had manufactured for him. The gaffed chip had a green Slots A Fun chip on one side, a red Slots A Fun on the other, its edge painted half-red, half-green. He placed his hand on the table edge.

“Good boy,” Ly said.

He feigned plucking a green chip from the stack in front of him. In actuality, he pushed the gaffed chip into view. He took a red chip from another stack and placed the two chips into the betting circle. To anyone watching, he’d just bet thirty dollars.

“Good luck,” Ly said.

She dealt the round. Billy won, and she paid him thirty dollars. He left his original bet in the betting circle and added the winning chips to his stacks.

She dealt another round. This time, he lost the hand.

“You lose, too bad,” she said.

She scooped the losing bet off the felt and flipped the gaffed chip over, pretending to deposit it into her tray with the green chips. In reality, the gaffed chip remained in her hand. As she deposited the red chip into her tray, she left the gaffed chip with it.

To anyone watching, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Change, please.” Billy tossed a green chip toward her.

Ly removed the gaffed chip and four normal red chips from her tray and slid them toward him. Billy took the gaffed chip and under cover of his hand, flipped it over. Soon, the gaffed chip was lying in the betting circle with a red chip.

It was one of the sweetest scams ever devised. When he won a hand, the casino paid him thirty dollars; when he lost, the casino made only ten dollars because of the shortchange. On an average night, he could steal $600 without suspicion. Ly’s cut was half.

“Where you taking me to dinner?” she asked.

It was how every session with her ended.

“Not tonight,” he said.

“You got some other girl you like more than me?”

He knocked over one of his stacks of chips, signaling that she needed to watch her mouth. She continued to talk recklessly, and he rose from his chair. Fear flashed through her eyes.

“Don’t go. My rent due,” she said.

“That’s not my problem.”

“I thought you care about me.”

She was pushing it. He decided to mess with her and pushed all of his chips into the betting circle. If he lost, Ly lost as well.

“What you doing?” she asked.

“Shut up and deal,” he said.

He walked out of Slots A Fun with twelve hundred bucks of the casino’s money. It was more than he normally would have stolen from a joint so small, and he would have to avoid coming here for a while. Ly was becoming a liability. If he wasn’t careful, they’d end up getting busted.

Ly parked her junker in the elevated self-park garage across the street at the Riviera. On the fourth floor he found her car and used the spare key she’d given him to pop the trunk. He dropped her cut onto the spare tire and told himself it was time to end the arrangement.

Some things were easier said than done. If he called and broke the bad news, she’d scream at him. If he went and saw her, she’d attack him. He decided to do it subtly and let her figure it out. He placed his cut on top of hers, then took the spare key from his key chain and placed it atop the money, then shut the trunk. Ly wasn’t stupid and would understand that they were done.

It was nearly eleven. Time to see the captain and talk business. Stealing a few cool million was at the top of his bucket list, and he hurried from the garage.

Billy walked back to the Peppermill with a million watts of neon burning his eyes. As he neared the restaurant’s parking lot, his cell phone came alive.

“I’m just pulling in,” the old grifter said.

“Stop for a haircut?” he asked.

“I got a call right after we hung up that I had to take.”

“You couldn’t talk and drive? It’s the newest thing.”

“It’s complicated, man. Just leave it alone.”

“You’re not going to tell me why you’re running late?”

“No. Drop it.”

Billy felt a breeze. Was the captain trying to set him up? It wouldn’t be the first time that another hustler had tried to put him in a bad light. He decided he’d better find out.

“I’m in the bar having a beer. What’s your pleasure?” he asked.

“Jack Daniel’s, straight up, and a beer chaser,” the old grifter said.

“See you in a few.”

He ducked behind a light pole plastered with flyers for escorts and watched Crunchie park his vintage ’69 Corvette and then get out and stretch. Crunchie had grown up on a ranch in Montana and favored cracked-leather boots and a black Stetson with a rattlesnake band. He was tall and sinewy, his skin rough-hewn. As he crossed the lot and entered the restaurant, Billy noticed that he was limping. Had someone beat him up? It sure looked that way.

A bad feeling settled over Billy. He decided to hang back to see if Crunchie had brought along any unwanted friends. The world being what it was, you could never be too careful.

He’d joined Crunchie’s crew soon after arriving in Vegas. Crunchie had run a cooler mob that specialized in switching cards on unsuspecting blackjack dealers. Billy hadn’t believed such a thing was possible until they’d ripped off the Mirage. The dealer had shuffled her six decks and placed them on the table to be cut. At the next table, a member of the crew had feigned having a heart attack. As the dealer called for the pit boss, she briefly lifted her fingers from the cards. In that split second, the six decks were switched for six duplicate decks stacked to deal nothing but winning hands. Twenty minutes later, they possessed a hundred grand of the Mirage’s money.

Several parties came out of the restaurant, but none went in. He decided it was safe and went inside. The restaurant was packed with tourists eating overpriced food. The hostess flashed a smile but did not offer him a menu. She’d seen him before and knew he was local.

A beaded curtain led to the lounge. Single white candles flickered on tables while a heatless fireplace burned in the room’s center like a campfire. A bar with nine stools took up the sidewall. Crunchie sat on a middle stool, pounding brown liquid. Billy took the adjacent stool and got the attention of a cute bartender wearing skintight clothes and her hair tied back.

“Corona, no glass,” he said.

“Want a lime with that?” the bartender asked.

“I’m staying away from the fruit. I hear it’s bad for you.”

She served him. Under his breath, Crunchie said, “Where you been?”

“Outside. How’d you get the limp? You didn’t limp when we ran together.”

“My arthritis is acting up. I’m getting old.”

The cute bartender offered to run a tab. Billy slid her a twenty, told her to keep the change. She flashed a smile that made him want to come back and see her again. Grabbing his beer, he made his way toward a corner table with Crunchie right behind him.