He came out of the banquet hall tugging off his waiter’s jacket. Ike and T-Bird hadn’t strayed far, and waited in the hall. Trying to slip away was out of the question, and he said, “Interested in making a quick five grand?”
Money made the world go round. They decided they wanted to hear more and followed Billy down a hallway past the hotel lobby until they were standing outside the entrance to the casino. It was packed, the air electric. A hot zone.
“What’s the deal?” Ike asked.
“I need you guys to cover for me while I bail a friend of mine out of jail.”
“You want to leave the property?” Ike asked.
“Just for a couple of hours.”
“Whatta ya think?” Ike asked his partner.
“We could get our asses fired,” T-Bird said, the voice of reason.
“They ain’t paying us shit anyway,” Ike reminded him.
“I ain’t risking my job for a lousy five grand. Get more.”
Ike shifted his attention to Billy. “You willing to go higher? You go higher, we might agree. Marcus and his bimbo left an hour ago, and old smelly has gone home, too. Nobody will know you left but us. We’ll keep quiet, but it’s got to be worth our while.”
Shakedown time. Billy had half a mind to ask Ike the last time someone had paid him five grand for keeping his mouth shut, but knew that line of reasoning wouldn’t go very far. Ike had him by the short hairs and was going to extract every penny out of Billy that he could.
“I’ll give you five grand apiece,” he offered.
“You’re offering us five grand each,” Ike said, just to be clear.
“That’s right. Cash.”
“That’s good, because we don’t take credit cards. Try ten.”
“I just offered you ten.”
“Each.”
He rocked back on his heels. To pay Ike that much, he’d have to visit his condo and make a withdrawal from his wall safe.
“Come on, give me a break,” he said.
Ike’s eyes turned cold. “That’s my final offer. Take it, or leave it.”
He almost said fuck you. But a little voice inside his head said no, you need to get Ly out of jail before she goes south on you.
“You’ve got a deal,” he said instead.
Ike smiled. “Pay up.”
“The money’s in my condo. I’ll get it while I’m out and pay you when I come back.”
Ike grabbed Billy by his shirt and lifted him off the floor so he was dangling in the air. A gang of pretty young things strolled past and shot pouty looks his way. In any other city, they would have snapped a photo on an iPhone and called the cops. But Vegas had a way of desensitizing people to pain and suffering, and the girls entered the casino without breaking stride. Bringing his face close, Ike said, “We want the money now, asshole.”
“The money’s in a wall safe in my condo.”
“Hear that, Bird? Man’s got so much fucking money, he needs a safe to keep it in.” Ike’s eyes narrowed. “Give us the combination. We’ll take care of the rest.”
“You can’t go into my building. The night guard won’t let you onto the elevators. Trust me, I’ll get the money for you.”
“You’ve got other things to do,” Ike reminded him. “Give me the combination, and we’ll get our money while you’re bailing out your friend. Call the night guard, and tell him we’re coming. That’s the deal.”
Billy knew when he was beaten. “I live in Turnberry Tower, Building B, in the penthouse. The safe’s in the clothes closet. Get a piece of paper, and I’ll give you the combination.”
“Hoowee. You got a penthouse at Turnberry? All the rich motherfuckers live there. Being a cheater must pay real good.”
“It beats working. Let me down, will you?”
Ike lowered him to earth and patted down the front of his shirt. T-Bird got a piece of paper and a pen from the front desk, and Billy wrote down the combination, having to believe it was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Fifty grand was sitting in the safe along with a Rolex gold submariner he’d ripped off from a snotty trust-fund kid during a not-so-friendly game of backgammon at the pool, and he knew damn well that the punishers were going to take it all.
“What’s the night guard’s name?” Ike asked.
“Joey, but everyone calls him Jo-Jo,” Billy said.
“Call him, and tell him we’re coming.”
Billy called Jo-Jo and set the wheels in motion for the punishers to rip him off. It felt funny setting himself up to be taken down, and he supposed someday he’d have a good laugh over it, just not today. They went outside to the valet area, and Ike patted him on the shoulder.
“Be back before dawn, junior.”
“Yes, Dad.”
Laughing to themselves, the punishers headed down a walkway that led to the employee parking garage, the money already burning a hole in their pockets. They were the lowest form of thieves, and he could not wait to pay them back for taking advantage of him like this.
“It’s going to be about ten minutes. We’re jammed right now,” the valet said.
He waited on a bench for his car. He’d done a bad job of ending his partnership with Ly and had probably hurt her feelings. He needed to fix that, and he went back inside.
The gift shop was just off the lobby. He pored through racks of T-shirts and knickknacks that lined the shelves. It was made-in-China crap, all of it outrageously priced. Once upon a time, Vegas had been a bargain-cheap hotel rooms, inexpensive show tickets, endless buffets. Those days had faded; now the town was a rip-off, everything overpriced. He found a sleeveless blouse that matched Ly’s eyes, and took it to the counter.
“Fifty dollars,” the salesgirl said.
“Can you wrap it in some nice paper?” he asked.
“Gift wrapping is an extra two dollars.”
“I can handle it.”
As the salesgirl wrapped the blouse, his eyes were drawn to a display case. Among the rings and bracelets was a magical gold color.
His heart skipped a beat. They couldn’t be that stupid, could they?
He reminded himself that Doucette was not a gamer, and therefore susceptible to a variety of scams that seasoned casino people would never fall for.
He pointed into the case. “Let me see that.”
The salesgirl slid open the back panel and grabbed a flashy cigarette lighter.
“No, not that. The key chain next to it. The one with the gold chip.”
The salesgirl removed a souvenir key chain with a rubber gold chip and handed it to him. Its gold color looked just like Galaxy’s hundred-thousand-dollar gold chip.
He took the gold chip he’d stolen from Rock from his pocket and compared it to the rubber chip. The colors were exactly the same.
Casinos guarded the formulas they used to make their chips the way Coca-Cola guarded the formula to its soft drinks. Only Doucette had slipped up and let an outside vendor use the gold color to make a souvenir key chain. He looked for the manufacturer’s mark on the chip, hoping it wasn’t made in China. Finding none, he said, “Where do you get these? I want to get some made for my company.”
“A vendor here in town makes them for us,” the salesgirl replied. “The salesman was just here filling up the case. We move a lot of them.”
“Do you have his business card?”
The salesgirl rifled through a drawer and produced the salesman’s card. AAA Novelty & Gift, located on Industrial Road on the north side of town.
“Keep it. I’ll get another the next time he’s in,” she said.
He slipped the salesman’s card into his billfold. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could barely contain his excitement. He’d hit the mother lode.
“That will be another twenty dollars plus tax,” she said, ringing up the sale.
The key chain probably cost nothing to make. Another rip-off, but one that he was happy to swallow. Not many times in his life would he be able to say that he’d turned twenty bucks into several million, and he sensed that his run of bad luck was about to change.