Sucker bet - James Swain [61]
Gerry stared through the windshield. “Afraid so.”
A few hundred decks of Riverboat playing cards had been sold to small-time hoodlums across New England by enterprising Riverboat employees. Every cop in Atlantic City knew about it, but no one had done anything. It was too damn funny.
“How much did you pay for them?”
“Five hundred bucks,” his son said.
The gift shop inside the Fontainebleau’s main lobby was empty. Taking a deck of cards off a rack, Valentine dropped it on the counter and took out his wallet. A jolt went through his spine as the cashier rang it up.
Gerry had laid claim to a couch in the lobby. As Valentine unwrapped the deck, his son sat at rapt attention, oblivious to the bevy of half-clad young ladies strolling about.
“Shuffle them,” his father said.
Gerry gave the cards a good mix. Valentine took them back, shuffled them some more, then took the top card and held it between his thumb and first finger.
“King of spades,” he announced.
Gerry took the card and turned it over. “Do it again,” he said.
Valentine repeated the trick, expecting his son to catch on.
“Come on, Pop. You’re killing me.”
“It’s called the one-ahead principle. When you handed the deck back to me, I spotted the bottom card, which was the king of spades. I shuffled, and brought the king to the top.” He did an overhand shuffle, showing his son how easy it was to bring the bottom card to the top. “With me so far?”
Gerry nodded, his eyes never leaving the pack.
“Now, when I take the top card off in my right fingers, I already know what it is. I pretend like I’m reading the back of the card, while I’m actually learning the identity of the new top card of the deck.”
“How?”
“It’s called the bubble peek. I squeeze the top card of the deck with my left thumb. The front corner of the card hits my left forefinger, which rests along the top of the deck, and the corner bubbles up.”
Holding the deck as if for dealing, he exposed the move to his son. “Normally, sitting as close as you are, you’d spot this. The reason you don’t is because the card in my right hand hides it from your line of vision. But the card doesn’t hide it from mine.”
Valentine shifted his arms so Gerry could see the cards from his angle. He did the bubble peek again, and said, “See it?”
“It looks like the four of clubs.”
Valentine turned the top card over. “You learn fast,” he said.
“I bet you can do that all night long,” his son said. “Does it take much practice?”
“Couple of hours in front of a mirror.”
“Show me.”
Valentine gave him half the deck and walked him through it. Within a few minutes, his son was “reading” the backs of the cards like a pro. They got onto an elevator filled with giggling young girls in bikinis, and Gerry immediately began to flaunt his newfound skill.
“Wow,” one of the girls gushed, “you’re good!”
Nigel and Candy ate lunch in their bungalow.
Eating the Delano’s food every day had gotten Candy spoiled. Fresh seafood and steaks covered in special sauces, potatoes served a dozen different ways, salads with fruits she’d never heard of and couldn’t pronounce, homemade desserts to die for. So when Nigel had said, “Let’s order a Domino’s pizza,” she hadn’t realized what a letdown it would be, the pie swimming in grease when it arrived, the pudgy pizza boy standing in his goofy uniform in the doorway, staring at the furnishings, then Nigel, then her.
To wash the pizza down, Nigel ordered a bucket of Shiner Bocks from room service. He’d discovered the beer in Texas while touring. After downing four, his drunkenness went to the next level. Soon his eyes were at half-mast, his chin dotted with tomato sauce.
“I want to ask you a question,” she said.
He smothered a belch. “By all means.”
“What’s the deal between you and Rico?”
“We’re partners in a business venture.”
“He’s a scumbag. I don’t like you getting involved with him.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
“You don’t need to be hanging out with swindlers. Or pulling scams.”
“So he’s not your friend