Eddie dove into the deep water, going straight down until, by reaching out a hand, he could feel the rough concrete of the bottom at twelve feet. He let himself rise slowly to the surface and bob. He shook his head, opened his eyes, saw Arabella sitting at the edge of the pool looking toward him. He flipped his body around in the other direction, and with long, slow strokes swam across the pool and into the stone-lined grotto at the far end of it. Stopping there, he could smell the wet stones. The water was shallow and warmer. There was soft, flickering light from a lamp underwater. He could not see Arabella now.
Thirty thousand dollars. He had beat them. First Cooley and then Borchard. There was a stone ledge near the water. He pulled himself out gently and sat there with his feet and calves in the warm water, his wet thighs solid against the rough stone, his body dripping. Fifty years old. He had beaten the kids. He let himself relax now, uncoiling the last bit of the knot that had filled his stomach throughout this day, and let the pleasure of it touch his whole body like a warm garment. There were goose bumps on his upper arms. He stretched and yawned, a winner. He had never felt better in his life.
“I’d like to drive all the way around the lake before we go back,” Arabella said after he swam over to her.
“First thing in the morning.” He eased himself out of the pool and sat beside her.
After a while the music on the PA stopped and a woman’s soft voice said, “The pool area will be closed in five minutes.” Eddie looked behind him at the clock over the doorway to the gym; it was five minutes to one. He was beginning to feel tired.
Arabella stood and began drying herself with a towel. “This place is like a church,” she said, looking around her at the huge concrete circumference of the pool and up at the broad, black skylight.
“I like it.” Eddie lazily took his feet out of the water and held his hand out for the towel. “Let’s get dressed.”
They came around a corner and there was the casino, its lights garish and somehow comforting. Three crap games were going strong; all the blackjack tables were in play; a crowd milled about in the vast area of the slot machines. It was, after all, Saturday night. “Do you want to try your luck?” Eddie said.
She folded her arms and hugged herself nervously. “I don’t know. I’m still in a daze.”
“Then let’s go to bed.”
She looked at him, smiling faintly, still hugging herself. They were standing at the top of a wide and shallow stairway that led down to the still-empty baccarat tables. “You really did win, didn’t you? You really did.”
They walked through the casino, where people and money circulated freely and at ease. Arabella put her arm through his. Tired as he was, his step was light. As they passed the last of the crap tables, a very old man was shaking the dice fervidly; now, with a broad, sweeping movement he threw them powerfully from the side of his hand out onto the long green. Eddie and Arabella stopped to watch them bounce and glitter under the bright lights. The number that came up was eleven. “Natural!” cried the old man joyfully, leaning forward to pull in a pile of bills.
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