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Lady Luck

Allan Onik

    Nevan entered the casino and scanned. He found a slot machine in the middle of a row, next to an older woman wearing an oxygen tank. He began to stuff the machine full of quarters.

    In the casino’s security room, a guard pointed his finger to a display monitor. “Subject one has entered the premise,” the guard yelled behind him. Tab walked to the monitor.
    “Bastard. Keep an eye on him.”

    Nevan pulled the handle of the machine. Three red sevens lined up. The machine’s jackpot lights flashed.
    “You’ve won!” a man behind him exclaimed. The man was wearing a Steelers cap, and was overweight with a grey beard.
    “Must be my lucky day,” Nevan said. Quarters spewed from the machine and began to fall onto the floor. A crowd gathered around him.
    “Ten thousand dollar jackpots don’t come every day in this place,” a woman muttered in the back.
    Nevan wore a tweed suit and glasses. He sported leather loafers and an antique, gold watch. “Great,” Nevan said casually. He took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with a cloth.
    Tab worked his way through the crowd and shook Nevan’s hand. He smiled and faced the mass. “Congratulations, sir! If Sin City had enough gamblers like you, you’d put us out of business. I’d have to move to New York and sell hot dogs on the streets.”
    Nevan looked up at the lights twirling on the machine. “I’ll gather that if you moved, you’d miss that.” The lights flashed red.
    “Very right you are,” Tab said while smiling at the crowd. “A great city. Just have to watch out for the nasties. And fortunately with this sum the quarters are just for show. I have to take you around back to give you some paperwork to fill out before I give you your check. Right this way please.”
    Nevan worked his way through the crowd, following Tab and three guards. “I didn’t realize The Aces Deus has such good hospitality,” Nevan said.
    “We treat all our high rollers with the utmost courtesy,” Tab said. Nevan walked through a pair of oak doors next to a blackjack table and then followed Tab through some less appealing grey doors. Tab slipped on his brass knuckles. He was a tall, thin man in a sport suit. He had blond hair, with a chiseled face.
    “What’s this?” Nevan asked calmly. He looked more inconvenienced than exclaimed. The room they entered was dimly lit with a single light bulb hanging from the center of its ceiling. The area smelled of piss and mirrors lined its sides. The guards pinned him to metal chair in the center of the room and began to duct tape him to it. The chair was bolted to the ground. When the taping was done, Tab socked him in the stomach with the knuckles. Nevan gasped but appeared relatively unperturbed. A drop of sweat now specked his glasses. A second blow to his face and Nevan carefully considered the corner of his mouth with tongue, and spit out a molar. “Might I ask, sir, if something is wrong?” Nevan asked sincerely.
    “I think you know, cocksucker.” Tab’s face was red. “Seventeen casinos. Two weeks. Five hundred thousand dollars. And all slot machines. For the love of god, slot machines? I’d check your sleeves for some aces if you were rigging our blackjack tables, but slot machines? How did you rig them? Did you buy out our engineers at the factories; figure out something we don’t know? How? Why? Have you paid our employees somehow? What the fuck, Nevan?”
    Nevan looked cross. “Are you accusing me, sir, of cheating?” A bit of blood dribbled down his chin. One of the security guards pulled a baton out of his pocket and smashed Nevan on the knee.
    “Yes, Nevan, I am. The odds are about one in a billion. So unless you’re the luckiest guy on the planet, you’ve just fucked half the casino owners in Vegas.”
    “I...don’t....know....what to say,” Nevan said. He stared at Tab blankly.
    “We can’t prove you’re cheating,” Tab said, “we won’t kill you if you get out of town. Get lost. This city is for dumb, fat tourists. Not scam artists. Get the fuck out of here. We see you again, the last you see will be our shovels pouring sand down your throat on the road near the flying saucer factory where ET hangs out.”

    Nevan landed in some sand in a back alley behind the casino. It was night and Nevan patted down his frizzed hair. He walked the strip and lights flashed around him. A transvestite prostitute walked near him and gave him a yellow smile. “Hello darlin,” she said, “you look lonely.”
    “Fine, thank you,” Nevan said. He walked past her. In the distance, he could see his favorite sign. Welcome to the Fabulous Las Vegas, it said.

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