“Hey, Miguel, how’s life treating you?” he asked.
“Every day is better than the next. Do I know you?”
“Billy Cunningham.”
“Didn’t recognize you, Mr. C. How you been?”
“Can’t complain. Which stall is the football player in?”
“Third from the end. Your friend’s in rough shape.”
He banged on the stall door with his open palm. “You doing okay in there?”
The stall door cracked open. In Choo-Choo’s massive hand was a tiny spoon with a lump of white powder. “Just getting a little pick-me-up. I’m running on fumes.”
“How long have you been partying?”
“Since we got back from practice. I wouldn’t call it a party. The NFL stuck a knife in our backs, so we decided to tie one on.” Choo-Choo dug out a hit and sent it up his nostril.
“What do you mean, they stuck a knife in your backs? What did they do?”
“Night Train didn’t tell you what happened?”
“Afraid not.”
“Well shut my mouth. Let’s pretend this conversation never took place.”
Choo-Choo pocketed the drug paraphernalia and came out of the stall. He had a real spring in his step and his body language was back to being positive. Billy said, “You need to clean yourself up,” and Choo-Choo joined him at the sinks. “We’re up to one million in winnings. I’m going to end the play when it reaches two and a half million.”
“I thought we stopped at two million,” Choo-Choo said.
“Sammy came up short at Luxor. We need to make up the difference.”
“Got it.”
Choo-Choo left the restroom first. Billy spotted Miguel on his shoeshine chair, reading the sports section. He stuffed several bills in Miguel’s shirt pocket.
“Mum’s the word.”
“You got it, Mr. C,” Miguel said.
The average Strip casino had several million dollars in chips distributed among its table games, and it was management’s job to keep track of this inventory and protect the games where the chips resided. Chips were no different from cold, hard cash. A chip could be cashed in at any time, or it could be taken to another casino and cashed in. They were easy to carry and never lost their value. Money made the world go ’round, but in Las Vegas, chips talked the loudest.
Chaos described the situation Billy found upon returning to the rigged blackjack game. A small army of security guards ringed the table and was warning patrons to stay back. Chips lay scattered beneath the table, and the dealer was busily picking them up. Mia and Roxanne lay facedown on the floor, their blouses torn. Each had a burly security guard pinning them down. Billy came up behind Choo-Choo and gave him a nudge.
“What’s going on here?” Choo-Choo said under his breath.
“Looks like your friends tried to steal your chips, so the casino put the heavy on them,” Billy whispered back. “I’d suggest you disassociate yourself from them when the cops come.”
“I’ll tell the cops I met them at the bar. What about the money I won?”
“The dealer will hold your chips for you. Once the dust settles, cash out and leave.”
“I really messed up bringing them here, didn’t I?”
Billy pulled him away from the table and the security cameras’ watchful eyes. The top of Billy’s head barely reached Choo-Choo’s chin, but he didn’t let that temper what he was about to say. “What’s wrong with you guys? I give you a chance to make a huge score, and you get messed up and call some sleazy hookers? I thought you were smart. I was wrong.”
“It’s not like that,” Choo-Choo said. “The NFL fucked us. We had to blow off steam.”
“You should have done it on somebody else’s dime.”
Choo-Choo acted ashamed, not that Billy cared. The damage was done, and all the apologies in the world were not going to fix things. He left the casino without saying good-bye.
Fifty-Four
The MGM Grand had an elevated pedestrian walkway that connected it to New York New York on the other side of the Strip. Billy hiked across it and was soon sitting at a bar inside the casino, drinking a beer and trying to calm down.
As a rule, he avoided alcohol during a heist, but this was an exception. The football players were behaving like a bunch of crazy college kids, and it was a miracle that security at the Luxor and the MGM Grand hadn’t discovered they were being scammed and busted them.
While he drank, he surfed the Internet on his cell phone. Choo-Choo’s comment about the NFL double-crossing them had come out of left field. The Rebels’ defense was famous, and he didn’t understand what the NFL could do that would be seen as a betrayal.
On a hunch, he went to ESPN’s site and scrolled through the headlines. Stories about the upcoming Super Bowl were in abundance, with both teams getting plenty of ink. The Vegas bookmakers had the Rebels as underdogs but only by a field goal. That would change before the game when money betting on the Rebels rolled in.
A story posted the day before caught his eye. “Is this the final curtain call for the Rebels’ vaunted defense?” Was this the story that had gotten Choo-Choo so ticked off? He clicked on it and had a look. It had been written by a staff writer for ESPN who quoted anonymous sources claiming that Night Train and his pals were planning to announce their retirements after the Super Bowl. The writer made it sound like it was a done deal, and went on to talk about their long and storied careers and how they were shoo-ins to be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame when they became eligible.
He exited the article and thought about what it said. So what if Night Train and his pals were planning to retire? If the NFL had leaked the story, what was the harm? It didn’t hurt anyone. Maybe the problem was the article’s timing. Maybe the football players didn’t like the NFL stealing their thunder to get a nice story. It was their careers, after all.
At the end of the day, he didn’t think it really mattered. Night Train and his teammates’ careers were coming to a close, and they needed to get used to no longer being in the limelight.
His cell phone vibrated in his hand. Caller unknown. He answered it.
“It’s me,” Night Train said.
“I told you no phone calls,” he exploded.
“I’m calling from the lobby of the hotel, so there’s no worry.”
“No worry? Did Sammy tell you about his little stunt at the Luxor? He was so drunk he passed out at the table. If that didn’t take the prize, Choo-Choo showed up at the MGM Grand high on coke with two hookers who tried to roll him. Your friends are insane.”
“Look on the bright side. Sammy and Choo-Choo won a million and a half bucks, and there are still three casinos left to be ripped off. You can’t quit now, man.”
Every commotion inside a casino drew scrutiny, especially when large sums of money were lost. There was no doubt that security at Luxor and the MGM Grand were reviewing the surveillance tapes of Sammy’s and Choo-Choo’s huge wins to see if cheating was involved. Billy wanted to believe the scam was disguised well enough to pass muster. But there was always a chance that a sharp security person would smell a con, and things would quickly go south.
“Yes, I can,” he said.
“We won’t let you down again, and that’s a promise,” Night Train said.
Billy wanted to believe that Night Train’s word meant something. But he didn’t feel that way about Night Train’s teammates. If Billy were going to scam another casino today, it would be with the man he was talking to on the phone, and no one else.
“I’ll keep going, but there’s going to be a change in plans,” he said. “We’re going to hit one more casino, just you and me. Your friends are no longer part of the equation.”
“Don’t trust them, huh?”