Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [68]
Little Hands saw the pilot shaking his fist and cursing him. He laughed.
He drove into Las Vegas thinking about the money. A thousand stinking bucks. He’d never taken a job with out getting paid up front. Either his employer didn’t know the rules, or wanted to keep him on a short leash. It’s like I’m still a prisoner, he thought.
He came into town on the north side, where the Riviera, Frontier, and Sahara were still struggling to survive, and parked beneath the Frontier’s mammoth marquee, its giant letters proclaiming BIKINI BULL RIDE, COLD BEER, DIRTY GIRLS.
Across the street from the Frontier was the Peppermill restaurant and lounge. The local cops didn’t like the prices, and as a result criminals often used the cocktail lounge for meetings. He needed time and a place to think, and decided it was as good a spot as any.
The lounge was behind the restaurant, a mirrored room with a sunken fire pit and plenty of intimate seating. The place was dead, and he took a seat at the bar and ordered a draft from the cute bartender, who seemed happy for the company. She set a tall one in front of him. “You look familiar,” she said.
It was his first beer since going to the joint. He savored it, saying nothing.
“Now I remember,” the bartender said. “You came in here awhile back, and stuck your hand in the fire pit.”
The fire pit was the lounge’s gimmick, the bright orange flames erupting from a bubbling pool of green water. Little Hands had stuck his hand into the flames on a dare and burned himself real good. “That was a long time ago,” he said.
She smiled like he’d made a joke, then tapped the screen of the video poker machine in front of him. Every seat at the bar had a video poker machine. It was how the lounge made money.
“Make sure you play Joker’s Wild,” she said.
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“It’s paying off real good.”
He drank some more beer. She played this game with every customer who came in. She sold them on the idea of winning, even though no one ever did. He needed to figure out how he was going to kill Valentine, and fished a twenty out of his pocket.
“Thanks,” he said.
The beer went straight to his head, and he could hardly sit upright in his chair. This was how guys who broke out of jail got caught, he thought. The bartender came back. “How you doing?” she asked.
He looked at the video poker screen. “Shitty.”
She watched him play a hand. On the screen five cards appeared. He had a pair of jacks. He discarded the other three cards by pressing on them with his finger. The machine dealt him three more cards. They didn’t help his hand, and he won a dollar. She reached over the bar and touched his wrist.
“Can I give you some advice?”
“Sure.”
“Play the maximum amount of coins each time. That way, if you get a good hand, you’ll win big.”
He’d been betting a quarter a hand, thinking it would let him play longer, which would increase his chances of winning. Only, she was saying that it was a bad strategy, and would deny him the chance to really win. He pushed the button on the screen that said PLAY MAXIMUM AMOUNT.
“There you go,” she said.
Five new cards appeared on the screen. The ace of hearts, king of hearts, three of clubs, nine of hearts, and ten of hearts. He started to discard all the cards but the ace and saw her eyebrows go up.
“Discard the three and nine,” she said. “That way, you might make a royal flush.”
A royal flush was the best hand of all. According to the payout chart on the screen, he’d get two grand for a royal flush.
“Nobody gets those,” he said.
“That’s because they don’t try,” she said.
The day had been filled with surprises. He discarded the three and the nine. Two new cards appeared on the screen, a queen of hearts and a joker. She let out a war whoop. “You won! You won!”
He stared at the screen. “No, I didn’t. That ain’t a royal flush.”
“Yes, it is. Jokers are wild. That’s why they call it Joker’s Wild.”