He kicked over to the window, rattling the coins in his pocket. “What are you going to do, change? I don’t want to hang around here, I’m too—”
She gave him a quick hug. “We’re going to play it the way you want, Michael. I’m just somebody you met at the Miami airport. Get started. I’ll find you.”
He moved restlessly. “It doesn’t feel right yet. Pick me up in the bar.”
Outside, he tested his luck by walking along the extreme edge of the pool, where the slightest wavering would have sent him into the water with his clothes on. He went in through the hotel lobby, hesitated for an instant outside the darkened bar, and then walked into the wall of noise coming from the casino.
It was as crowded as a supermarket on Friday night. He bought three fifty-dollar chips, counting out the bills like a miser, and took them to the dice tables. He saw several people he knew from Miami, but didn’t stop to exchange hellos.
He watched the play at one table. A fat man, perspiring with anxiety, was chafing and exhorting the dice. They spilled out of his hand and bounced: seven. When the time seemed right to Shayne, he bet his three chips against the shooter. He won.
Pocketing his winnings, he returned to the bar. He drank his first cognac standing, in one long pull. He took his second more slowly, and looked around to see what the room had to offer.
There was only one woman without a companion. She was short and dark, in a tight dress, with her hair pulled back so hard that her forehead seemed stretched. She looked fresh and appealing in the dim light. Shayne knocked his glass on the bar.
She turned slowly and met his eyes with one eyebrow lifted. He moved down beside her, and added eight years to her age. That was all right; it was what he was looking for.
“I’m hoping to change my luck,” he said. “What are you drinking?”
“Black velvets,” she said, with a slight Spanish accent, and pushed her glass toward the bartender. “I’m Mercedes. I think good luck is sometimes hard thing to find.”
“You know it,” Shayne agreed. “But if you worry too much about it, that can be bad, too. I remember one time when everything worked. Everything broke right for me. And then all of a sudden—”
The bartender brought her new drink, and Shayne lit her cigarette.
“What are you, Cuban?”
“From Colombia, a long time ago. I am a dancer, you see. I had an engagement last month in San Juan, very pleasant. I meet an American booking agent here in two days’ time, and perhaps he will find me an engagement in your country.”
She was looking at him seriously, her eyes large, black, and liquid. Her full breasts strained against the tight dress. He brushed the back of his hand against one nipple.
“Nice.”
“Don’t do that.” She peered at him through the smoke. “But why do you say things are bad for you? You are one of the lucky ones.”
“I wish I could believe you,” he said gloomily. “But it’s hard to argue with facts.”
“No, no,” she insisted. “You are trying to fool me for some reason. I am never wrong about such things.”
“You don’t happen to be serious, by any chance?” Shayne said slowly.
“I am definitely serious. My mother could read the stars. I do it with nothing, I look in the eyes and see the soul. I see clearly that you are a man who wins. You have told yourself a lie. Your good fortune is gone? No, no. It is still with you.” She placed her fingertips against his chest. “I feel it beating there, strongly.”
“You’re kidding me.”
She shook her head. “Look here, I will prove it to you.” She took two chips out of her handbag and pressed them into his hand. “Play these for me at the roulette table.”
“I’m allergic to roulette.”
“Ordinarily, but not tonight. Please, for me. On a color.”
He scraped his chin with the edge of one chip. Then he shrugged. “What can I lose?”
He dropped a bill on the bar and took the girl into the roulette room, where he bet her chips on red. The ball danced around the wheel, hesitated, and came in on red. Shayne hooted.
“You see,” Mercedes said quietly. “I could feel the luck.”
He spun one of the chips in the air and caught it as it came down. “Kid, you’re just what I need. You’ve convinced me.”
He took her hand and pulled her along. She went with him obediently, holding back only when he started to leave the gambling area.
“Not the slot machines. Nobody wins there.”
“We’re coming back, and I’m going to give these guys a pasting they won’t ever forget. But we’ve got to nurse it along. It can go sour on you if you try to hurry it.”
He bought a bottle of Martell’s and a bottle of Scotch in the bar and asked for a bucket of ice. The girl was shaking her head.
“No. This is not what I intended. Though I like to be with people who have luck, and afterward, possibly…”
“Afterward, hell. I’ll be too high or too low. I’m jangling, can’t you feel that? I can’t play blackjack this way. I couldn’t follow the cards.”
The bartender handed the ice across the bar. Shayne put a bottle in each side pocket, and took the ice in one hand and the girl’s elbow in the other. He explained as they went. He was sure she was right, he was about to break out of his long slump. But a lot was riding on this evening, more than she realized. He needed a quiet drink, some quiet conversation, a little human contact.
“But you see,” she said, “it is undignified, it is not correct. Really and truly, my dear. No. I could not do such a thing, so suddenly.”
Outside Sarah’s room, he shifted his grip and guided her in against him. Her quick movements had released her perfume, which was heavy and musky. She turned her face up after a moment. A moment later he felt her tongue.
“Damn you,” she said. “Believe me, I have never—” The door was unlocked. He got her inside and was able to lock the door, pocketing the key, before the two girls were aware of each other.
Sarah had finished working on her eyes. She glanced around and started a word, but didn’t complete it. She had dressed with care, in a striking white dress, low at the neck.
“This is Mercedes,” Shayne said. “She asked me to bet a hundred bucks for her on red. If I lost, too bad. Maybe I’d pay her back and maybe I wouldn’t. If I won, the chances were good that I’d keep playing with my own money and cut her in. A hustle, in a way, but never mind. I want the three of us to have a drink together.”
“You can use the room,” Sarah said, giving the other girl a second chilly glance. “I’ll run into you in the casino later. May I have the key?”
He grinned. “Not unless you can take it away from me. Those are nice emeralds. It’s my favorite color.”
Her hand went to her necklace. “I can’t quite fathom you, Mike. Are you really that drunk?”
“What have we got in the way of glasses?”
Sarah glanced at the phone, then back at Shayne. She remained cool and lovely. She gave the other girl a closer inspection. Mercedes stared back boldly, but wasn’t able to hold it.
“This was not at all my idea,” she said weakly.
There were only two glasses in the bathroom, but Shayne didn’t object to drinking from the bottle. He made drinks for the girls. Mercedes alighted nervously on the front third of a chair, picking at the hem of her skirt. When Shayne held out the drink she said something angrily in Spanish and tossed her head before taking it. Shayne kicked off his shoes and sprawled across the big double bed.
“I started to tell you my ideas about how to gamble,” he said to Sarah. “It’s not a science. You have to go on instinct. I was in Vegas once. Six or eight years ago, and the reason I remember it, I had just about the same amount of cash I have now, twelve or thirteen hundred bucks. And I was moderately smashed, not quite enough, so I didn’t have that edge you need to put pressure on a dealer. I was taking it as it came. And I ended up in bed with two babes.”