Mario Puzo - Fools die

One night in the dice pit Gronevelt heard a player ask one of the dice croupiers what time it was. The dice croupier looked at his wristwatch and said, “I don’t know, it stopped.”

Gronevelt was immediately alert, staring at the croupier. The man had on a wristwatch with a black face, very large, very macho with chronometers in it, and Gronevelt said to the croupier, “Let me see your watch.”

The croupier looked startled for a moment and then thrust out his arm. Gronevelt held the croupier’s hand in his, looking at the watch, and then with the quick fingers of the born card mechanic he worked the wristwatch off the man’s arm. He smiled at the croupier. “I’ll hold this for you up in my office,” he said. “In an hour you can come up for it or you can be out of this casino. If you come up for it, I’ll give you an apology. Five hundred bucks’ worth.” Then Gronevelt turned away, still holding the watch.

Up in Gronevelt’s suite Gronevelt had shown Cully how the watch worked. That it was hollow and there was a slot in its top through which a chip could be slipped. Gronevelt easily took the watch apart with some little tools in his desk, and when it was open, there was a single solitary gold-flecked hundred-dollar black chip.

Gronevelt said musingly, “I wonder if he just used this watch himself or whether he rented it out to other shift workers. It’s not a bad idea, but it’s small potatoes. What could he take out on the shift? Three hundred, four hundred dollars.” Gronevelt shook his head. “Everybody should be like him. I’d never have to worry.”

Cully went back down to the casino. The pit boss told him that the croupier had resigned and already left the hotel.

That was the night that Cully met Charlie Brown. He saw her at the roulette wheel. A beautiful, slender blond girl with a face so innocent and young that he wondered if she was legally of age to gamble. He saw that she was dressed well, sexily but without any real flair. So he guessed that she was not from New York or Los Angeles, but from one of the Midwest cities.

Cully kept an eye on her as she played roulette. And then, when she wandered over to one of the blackjack tables, he followed her. He went into the pit behind the dealer. He saw she didn’t know how to play the percentages in blackjack, so he chatted with her, telling her when to hit and when to stick. She started making money, her pile of chips growing higher. She gave Cully plenty of encouragement when he asked if she was alone in town. She said no, she was with a girlfriend.

Cully gave her his card. It read, “Vice-president, Xanadu Hotel.” “If you want anything,” he said, “just call me. Would you like to go to our show tonight and have dinner as my guest?”

The girl said that would be marvelous. “Could it be for me and my girlfriend?”

Cully said, “OK.” He wrote something on the card before he gave it to her. He said, “Just show that to the maitre d’ before the dinner show, If you need anything else, give me a call.” Then he walked away.

Sure enough, after the dinner show he heard himself being paged. He picked up the call and he heard the girl’s voice.

“This is Carole,” the girl said.

Cully said, “I’d know your voice anywhere, Carole, you were the girl at the blackjack table.”

“Yes,” she said. “I just wanted to call and thank you. We had a marvelous time.”

“I’m glad,” Cully said. “And whenever you come into town, please call me and I’ll be happy to do anything I can for you. In fact, if you can’t get reservations for a room, call me and I’ll fix it for you.”

“Thank you,” Carole said. Her voice sounded a little disappointed.

“Wait a minute,” Cully said. “When are you leaving Vegas?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Carole said.

“Why don’t you let me buy you and your girlfriend a farewell drink?” Cully said. “It would be my pleasure.”

“That would be wonderful,” the girl said.

“OK,” Cully said. “I’ll meet you by the baccarat table.”

Carole’s friend was another pretty girl with dark hair and pretty breasts, dressed a little more conservatively than her friend. Cully didn’t push it. He bought them drinks at the casino lounge, found out that they came from Salt Lake City and, though they were not yet working at any job, they hoped to be models.

“Maybe I can help you,” Cully said. “I have friends in the business in Los Angeles and maybe we can get you two girls a start. Why don’t you call me in the middle of next week and I’m sure I’ll have something for you two either here or in Los Angeles?” And that’s how they left it for that night.

The next week, when Carole called him, he gave her the phone number of a modeling agency in Los Angeles where he had a friend, and told her she would almost surely get some kind of a job. She said she was coming into Vegas the following weekend, and Cully said, “Why don’t you stay at our hotel? I’ll comp you. It won’t cost you a penny.” Carole said she would be delighted.

That weekend everything fell into place. When Carole checked in, the desk called his office. He made sure there were flowers and fruit in her room, and then he called her and asked if she would like to have dinner with him. She was delighted. After dinner he took her to one of the shows on the Strip and to some of the other casinos to gamble. He explained to her he could not gamble at the Xanadu because his name was on the license. He gave her a hundred dollars to play blackjack and roulette. She squealed with delight. He kept a sharp eye on her and she didn’t try to slip any chips into her handbag, which meant she was a straight girl. He made sure that she would be impressed with the greetings he got from the maitre d’ at the hotel and pit bosses at the casinos. By the time the night was through Carole had to know that he was a very important man in Vegas. When they got back to the Xanadu, he said to her, “Would you like to see what a vice-president’s suite looks like?”

She gave him an innocent grin and said, “Sure.” And when they got up to the suite, she made the proper nods of exclamations of delight and then flopped down on the sofa in an exaggerated sprawled show of tiredness. “Wow,” she said. “Vegas is sure different from Salt Lake City.”

“You ever think of living here?” Cully said. “A girl as beautiful as you could have a great time. I’d introduce you to all the best people.”

“Would you?” Carole said.

“Sure,” Cully said. “Everybody would love to know a beautiful girl like you.”

“Uh-uh,” she said. “I'm not beautiful.”

“Sure you are,” Cully said. “You know you are.”

By this time he was sitting beside her on the sofa. He placed one hand on her stomach, bent over and kissed her on the mouth. She tasted very sweet, and as he kissed her, he made his hand go into her skirt. There was no resistance. She kissed him back, and Cully, thinking of his expensive sofa covering, said, “Let’s go into the bedroom.”

“OK,” she said. And holding hands, they went into the bedroom. Cully undressed her. She had one of the most beautiful bodies he had ever seen. Milk white. A golden blond bush to match her hair, and her breasts sprang out as soon as she took her clothes off. And she wasn’t shy. When Cully undressed, she ran her hands over his belly and his crotch and leaned her face against his stomach. He touched her head downward and with that encouragement she did what she wanted to do. He let her for a moment and then took her into the bed.

They made love, and when it was over, she buried her face in his neck with her arms around him and sighed contentedly. They rested and Cully thought about it and evaluated her charms. Well, she was great-looking and not a bad cock-sucker, but she wasn’t that great. He had a lot to teach her and now his mind was working. She really was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen, and the innocence of her face was an extra charm set off by the lushness of her slim body. In clothes she looked slender. Without clothes she was a delightful surprise. She was classically voluptuous, Cully thought. The best body he had ever seen and, though no virgin, still inexperienced, still uncynical, still very sweet And Cully had a flash of inspiration. He would use this girl as a weapon. As one of his tools for power. There were hundreds of good-looking girls in Vegas. But they were either too dumb or too hard or they didn’t have the right mentors. He would make her into something special. Not a hooker. He would never be a pimp. He would never take a penny from her. He would make her the dream woman of every gambler that came to Vegas. But first, of course, he would have to fall in love with her and make her fall in love with him. And after that was out of the way, they could get down to business.