Nick scanned across the lobby, sizing up the guests as they came and went from the elevators to the casino floor. The unctuous smile, ever present, concealed the contempt he held for the suckers that filled the casino in hopes of a quick buck. It was simple, the odds favored the house, not greatly, just slightly, just enough that if you played long enough, the casino would eventually win everything you put at risk. It was a mathematical certainty, and therefore if you played, you were a sucker.
The suckers all generally fell into four categories.
First, there were the couples that were there on a lark, risking and losing a few hundred bucks and calling it entertainment. They were never a problem and were the lifeblood of the casino.
Second, there were the loners, guys mostly who were convinced that they could beat the house and willing to lose a few thousand for the trill of the game. They too were generally never a problem. Willing sheep. A small percentage lost more than could really afford trying to get back to even, then they might become obnoxious or possibly combative requiring to be physically ejected.
Third, there were the penny ante players, quarter slots were their game, but they did help fill the hotel, buy a ticket to the show, and maybe buy dinner. These were mostly grandmas and housewives, accompanied by husbands who understood the odds and were loath to throw away hard earned money. The casino never made any real money on these players, but grudgingly tolerated them for public relations.
Fourth, there were the losers. He could see it in their eyes, the desperation, the fear. He could smell the fear. They bore watching. It was bad for business for a guest to fling himself/herself off a balcony. Like everybody else, the casino was going to take their money too. They just bore watching.
“Mr. Clametti?”
Nick turned towards the desk clerk.
“Mr. Clametti, sir, we have a problem.”
Nick looked at the desk clerk’s computer monitor and frowned. He looked over at the couple standing nervously at the front desk. He was tall, maybe six feet, and a little overweight. He had that desperate look in his eyes. She was shorter, maybe five foot six, cute with a nice body. She radiated fear.
Nick looked her over. ‘Not bad,’ he thought. Nick glanced back down at the monitor, American Express had declined the loser’s card. That meant one of two things; either the card was stolen, or he didn’t pay his bills.
Nick approached the desk. Looking him straight in the eye Nick requested, “May I see some identification Mr. Marsh?”
John Marsh glanced at his feet and then stammered, “Is there a problem?”
“No, sir, I just need to verify who you are.”
“Of course.” John fumbled around and pulled out his wallet. He dug out his driver’s license and handed it to Nick.
Nick noted the thick stack of bills in the wallet as he took the license from John. Comparing the names, Nick concluded that the card was not stolen; it was just that this loser was a dead beat. Nick looked back to the attractive young woman and smiled broadly. “Is this your wife?”
“Yes. Do you need to see her ID?” John answered irritably.
“No, that’s not necessary. It’s just that she’s very pretty.”
Judy Marsh blushed at the compliment. She was pretty and she knew it, she just wasn’t accustomed to flattering comments from strange men.
Nick noted the hostile look from her husband as he handed back the license and credit card.
“Will you be staying long?” asked Nick nonchalantly.
“Two, maybe three days.”
“I see. Well, you two have a grand time. If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.” Nick scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed the note to the desk clerk. “Kelly, please take care of Mr. and Mrs. Marsh.”
“Uh, yes sir,” answered the somewhat surprised desk clerk.
Nick moved away from the desk. Picking up a house phone, he called security.
“Bruce, Security,” answered the other end.
“Bruce, Nick. See these two losers at the front desk?”
Bruce switched his monitor to the camera screening the front desk. “Yeah, got’em.”
“That’s Mr. and Mrs. John Marsh. He’s a deadbeat loser. Watch him. I want to know as soon as he’s busted.”
“Sure Boss. She’s a doll.”
“Watch them.”
“Gotcha.”
Nick hung up, then turned to watch the Marshes get onto the elevator. “Nice butt,” he muttered to himself.
Kelly the desk clerk, looked at him questioningly. “Sir?”
Nick smiled and reassured her, “It’s alright Kelly. Don’t worry about it.” He paused a moment before asking, “Which room did you put them in?”
“The room you wrote down on the paper, Room 642.”
“Good. Thank you Kelly.” Nick stepped back from the front desk and returned to watching the suckers come and go. After a few minutes, Kelly noticed that the boss was no longer there.
*****
John sat on the California king bed, rubbing his temples, the ever-present knot in his stomach contributing to misery of a headache. The agony he was in tore at Judy’s heart. Three months ago, he was on top of the world, an up and coming corporate tiger, a young man on the move. His rapid rise up the corporate ladder was only matched by the meteoric demise of the company he worked for.
First there were rumors of accounting anomalies. The next day the value of the company’s stock values vaporized to nothingness, taking with it the livelihoods and lifelong savings of thousands of loyal employees. It took weeks before the magnitude of the disaster sunk in.
As always, John tried to take the situation in stride, but there were no offers forthcoming from the flood of resumes he had prepared and sent out. As the weeks wore on, people he dealt with on a regular basis no longer would return his calls. He discovered that he was tainted, washed with an indelible patina of corporate corruption and malfeasance.
Soon the cash reserves of his checking account dwindled to a paltry sum, forcing him to forego payments of any sort to anyone, just so that they had enough money for groceries and utilities. It was a crushing blow to his ego to have his Lexus repossessed right out of his driveway while all the neighbors watched with wagging tongues.
Creditors and the collection agencies began calling at all hours, to the point that they dreaded answering the telephone. Still the resumes went unanswered. John’s future seemed to have melted away. Even if he could get a job and began paying off his creditors, his credit rating would be damaged for years to come. With a damaged credit rating, his ability to land a high paying job became increasing difficult, after all, who would hire someone to help manage the financial affairs of their company if John couldn’t even manage his own financial affairs? If was vicious circle, a vortex actually; like a penny in a gravity well, accelerating in ever smaller rotations until the thing disappeared from the universe.
He was about to go down the financial gravity well and he knew it. Then after a few warning calls, the postman delivered a certified letter from his mortgage company, warning of the imminent foreclosure on their home. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Now they sat in a room at the Lucky Dawg Casino, their last thousand bucks in his wallet.
“Honey, lets just go home,” she said pleadingly.
“We’ve been over this. If I don’t come up with the money for at least one payment by Wednesday, they will foreclose. Now we can either go home and let it happen, or I can shoot craps and win enough to keep the wolves away for a few more weeks. A few weeks are all I need. Eric Thompson said he had something for me, but it would be a few weeks before the opening is available.
“Honey, he’s been telling you that for months now.”
“Not really. This time he’s certain something will come up. You know, a headhunter can’t force someone to hire you, what they’re good at is finding a good match. We don’t have a choice but gamble with what we have. If I lose, we really won’t be any worse off than if I didn’t try anything. This way I have a chance of making enough to hang on a while longer.”
“I don’t know honey. It seems so…so desperate.”
“We are desperate! We are about to hit bottom and go right through the floor. I know how to shoot craps. I have a system that’s worked very well in the past. Remember the last time we were here with the Dolton’s? I won, didn’t I?”
“You could afford to play then, now…”
