Equation

I got a room at the casino and crashed. When I woke, I showered and went to eat breakfast. Then I went back to the table. I introduced myself to my neighboring players and told them that I was a novice and I asked them for advice. I soon knew how to heed or to discount the information I was given.

I was introduced to the world of comps for meals and rooms. Courtesy cards that would tabulate and keep track of your play (a mixed blessing). The axioms of splitting aces and never splitting tens. The favorable times to double down. What casinos offered a higher payout on hitting 21. The debate on buying insurance.

Each topic would bring as much passionate debate as an scholarly study. I continued to learn the nuances and prospered. I soon realized that if I were to succeed at my new profession that I would have to migrate from casino to casino, thus not overburdening one particular casino. And I found out that there were casinos all over the country.

So I began to travel from casino to casino. I quickly built up a nest egg to tide me over and bad runs of luck. I kept current on my alimony payments by postal money orders that I kept receipts on. Each postal money order included a letter begging her to call me. She never did. I opened bank accounts all over the country with minimal amounts, but, kept large sums of cash in safety deposit boxes.

Whenever I flew across the country I would deposit the small change in the basket prior to going through the detection machines. When I landed, I would go to a coin shop owner and make a cash transaction at a discount favorable to the owner for the rare coins I transported. That kept me from being hassled at airports with large amounts of cash.

Only at my hometown bank did I keep any visible source of income to placate the IRS when I filed my return. I soon built up my funds, but, I was nowhere near to having "fuck you" money. That being a sum large enough that you essentially said fuck you to everyone. It had been three years since I left in shame. The court ordered alimony had ended. That was my status when I woke up the day after Christmas after my liaison with the beautiful escort.

The reason I decided to splurge on last night debauchery was I had made the mistake of calling Teri on Christmas Eve to wish her a Merry Christmas.

"Hi Teri, just calling to wish you a Merry Christmas." I said.

"Oh James, it is so good to hear from you. You need to come spend Christmas with me!"

I laughed, "Sorry Teri, there is something terribly wrong about Santa and sand."

"So, how are you dear? I was worried about you when I heard the news."

Puzzled over what new calamity must have fell, I asked, "What news, Teri?"

There was a long pause as though Teri was debating whether to divulge the information. Finally I heard, "Forgive me, James, I thought you were calling to commiserate. Laura has remarried." She sobbed and I was stunned by the news. I had still held out hope that someday Laura would forgive me and we would have picked up the pieces of our shattered lives.

"Married? She's married?" I heard myself asking Teri. It was like I was experiencing an out of body experience. I could hear myself conversing, but, I could not believe the conversation.

I couldn't help myself, "Who did she marry?"

"It doesn't matter, James! Please let it go!" She begged me but I was adamant.

"James, she married Jason...Jason Feder. They just had a baby last month."

Woodenly, I told her I had to go and I hung up on her. I heard the phone immediately ring and saw that Teri was calling me back. I ignored the call and went searching for the first bar I could find.

I told the bartender I wanted his best top shelf bourbon and then I asked what he could do to procure a woman for me; only the best escort would do. I had abstained for three years, still faithful to my Laura and I had no idea that she had moved on without me. I whiled away the time knocking down shots of bourbon as I waited for the escort to arrive.

When she did, we quietly settled on the price and from her looks I knew she would be worth every penny. We went upstairs to my room and I proceeded to excise the rage that I felt. Four times I had climaxed and my companion had thought we were through. Each time I quickly showed her how wrong she was.

And now, I was empty and hungover and had the stench of last night on me. I shuffled to the bathroom and took a steaming shower until my body began to prune up. After I had toweled off, I dressed and went to the bar in the lobby.

As I said, I normally did not drink and gamble. With all the alcohol I had imbibed last night I still suffered from the residual effects of the hangover. I would not be at the top of my game today; therefore, today would be another day off. Today I would quietly partake of the hair of the dog, then hydrate and wolf down aspirin and B-12 vitamins. I would go to my room and quietly watch TV until I went to sleep and woke ready and rested to hit the tables again.

I sat at the bar and ordered a Bloody Mary. I kept to myself and quietly sipped away at the tangy drink. All around was the hustle and bustle of customers celebrating their wins and customers mourning their losses. Barmaids danced through the obstacle of chairs and tables with trays filled with alcoholic concoctions.

Then my zone of comfort was disturbed. With all the empty spots at the bar someone elected to sit right next to me. I casually looked over to see who was committing this breach of bar etiquette. A long haired brunette was slinkily seated trying to catch the eye of the bartender. And she was attractive with a capital "A". Her outfit couldn't conceal how voluptuous her body was. Even though I was viewing her from a profile angle, I could see the light blue eyes focused on the bartender.

Usually when this happened to me when an attractive woman sat next to me I could expect to discover that she was a prostitute and quickly turn her down and have her move on. That wouldn't be the case here. The woman was a blackjack dealer employed at the casino. More specifically, she was a dealer I was used to seeing on the rotation.

Her name tag had told me months ago that her name was Kaye. She had proved to be a very competent dealer who ran an efficient table. At the same time I had witnessed her time and again trying to help rookie players overwhelmed on what to do. She was adept in handling belligerent and drunk players. And seldom was it necessary for the pit boss or security to intervene.

I always enjoyed having her rotate to my table and I was always trying to sneak peeks at her without being too obvious. Of course, I wasn't alone since everybody would be staring and salivating over her. For the players that tried to pick her up she would gently let them down in a way that wouldn't bruise their egos.

Another reason I appreciated her play was because she was just good luck for me. I know logically it was a matter of odds, but, somehow I would always play better than usual with her dealing. I always made it a point to tip her well and usually I would play a hand for her as the dealer and increase her tips winnings.

Still, we had kept things on a professional level and hadn't got into the habit of engaging in small talk. The closest we came to any interaction was when she was being relieved and clapped her hands and held them palms outward she would always look into my eyes. I wondered what she thought she saw there.

Now, she was dressed in her pant suit uniform. Dark pants, a white long sleeved shirt, a dark vest with her name tag, and ergonomic shoes. I wondered if she was coming on duty or leaving. Noticing me staring at her, she turned and gave me a brief smile of recognition and turned again to the now free bartender.

"Hi Kaye, what can I get you?" he asked.

"Hi Frank, can I get a 7-up with no ice?" she inquired.

The bartender quickly provided her with her request and laid a cocktail napkin down on the bar and placed the plastic cocktail glass on top of it. As he moved away I noticed her taking another cocktail napkin and placed it under her drink. I didn't understand that action. Perhaps she was fastidious.

In any event she wasted no time with her drink. In two quick gulps she emptied the cup and slid out of the seat facing away from me and left. As she did so, her left hand brushed against her empty cup and slid it against my drink. I thought it was kind of rude on her part as she walked away. But with a derriere like hers a lot could be excused. As I turned my attention to my drink, I went to push away her empty cup. Then I froze. Visible through the transparent plastic was a message on the cocktail napkin:

THEY ARE WATCHING YOU

I have to admit my fight or flight gene was working overtime as I digested the information. My pulse raced as I willed myself to remain seated and continue drinking my Bloody Mary. As casually as I could I moved the empty cup and draped my arm over the napkins. I signaled the bartender and he came and threw the empty cup away.

I remained at the bar slowly sipping on my drink while I tried to figure out what to do. Eventually, I came up with the ploy of pretending my glasses needed cleaning. I took the message napkin and wiped my glasses down and then pocketed the napkin.

I didn't know if I was under constant surveillance; I didn't know what form of surveillance, whether it was cameras or humans or both. As I threw down my money for the drink and tip I was wondering if I was going to be confronted as I left. Nothing happened as I walked to the bank of elevators and rode up to my floor.

I opened the door and went to sit down on the bed that the maids had already cleaned my room. I brought the napkin back out and stared at the message. As much as I wished it to change the message remained the same. One thing was clear, somehow I would have to make contact with Kaye and find out what she knew.

I went to the commode and flushed the napkin away. No sense in leaving it around to be discovered. I decided I would follow through with my plan to not gamble today. Maybe the disruption in my schedule would prompt the casino to prematurely act. After all, if they had any viable proof I would have already been picked up. If I forced their hand I could at least argue I wasn't a card counter.

The day and evening passed slowly as I made an attempt to focus on watching TV. It was amazing, over 100 channels and nothing worth watching. I just kept it on for the white noise factor. I had a fitful night sleep and woke up still undecided on how to proceed.

It was evident that I had to talk to Kaye but how could I do that while she dealt cards to a full table of gamblers and under the watchful eyes of the casino? The only solution was to contact her away from prying eyes and listening ears.

I went to a bar located on the mezzanine level of the casino. From this vantage point I watched Kaye deal cards for an entire day. I noticed what time she left work and walked to a bus stop and waited patiently until she boarded the number 7 bus. The next day I took off again and watched as she waited at the bus stop ignoring all the buses until the number 7 rolled around.

That night I familiarized the bus schedules for the Strip. In the morning I left the casino looking like any atypical sightseer visiting Las Vegas. I rode various buses all day. If I was being followed I certainly didn't catch anyone that hopped from bus to bus with me. Twenty minutes before Kaye was scheduled to get off her shift I boarded the number 7 bus and went to the back.

When we arrived at her bus stop she got on and sat wearily down midway in the bus. As we rode past the rows of casinos on the Strip, I got up and sat directly behind her and whispered, "We have to talk."

Startled, she quickly swivelled around and the shock of recognition caused her eyes to widen and her mouth agape. Without commenting she turned around and we rode for a few more minutes until she touched the indicator to be let off at the next stop. As the bus ground to a halt she got up and briefly made eye contact with me before she moved to exit the bus. I stood up and followed her off the bus.

I continued to follow her until we entered an IHOP restaurant. She held up two fingers to the hostess and we were led to a table. When we sat down I realized I was at a loss on how to engage the conversation.

I needn't have worried.

"I was wondering if you would contact me." She said after the hostess left us with the menus to contemplate our orders. "After I hadn't seen you I figured that you skipped town."

"As you can imagine, I've got a lot of questions." I responded. "First, who are 'they' and why are they watching me?"

She leaned back and said, "Okay you want to go the bullshit route. You know damn well who they are and why they are watching you. But to play your little game, the casino is on to you for counting cards."

"Then why haven't they come for me?" I asked.

"Because they aren't quite sure yet. They want to watch you a little closer before they do anything about it. You don't fit the atypical card counter profile. You play the cheap tables. You don't make outrageous bets when the cards are in your favor. And occasionally you'll make a bone headed play and lose money."

The waitress interrupted us and we placed our orders. That gave me enough time to formulate some new questions.

"How did they spot me?"

"Who the hell knows? All I know is that you are in their sights." she answered.

"Then how did you find out about me?" I countered.

"They asked me to keep an eye on you." she replied.

"Why did you decide to warn me?"

She reacted to my question and responded, "I have to tell you a little story. When I first started working for the casino I was young and idealistic. I was just going to work long enough to save enough money to go to college. Then I met my boyfriend and he got me pregnant. After my baby was born, he turned abusive. So I left him and I started living in a fleabag trailer park with my child. Between daycare and the outrageous rent I was having to pay I was barely scrapping by.

About two years ago, I started noticing this guy having an extraordinary run of luck at my table. I reported it to my pit boss. A couple of hours later security escorted him to the security office. The casino manager called me into his office and gave me a raise and told me to keep an eye out and I would continue to be rewarded.

I was all happy about finding a way to help myself and then I started hearing rumors of what they did to that guy." She shuddered from the memory, "I couldn't have another person on my conscience."

The waitress arrived with the food tray and started putting plates on the table. Before we started to eat I asked another question. "How can I trust you with what you told me?"

She looked at me straightforward and said, "You can't."

After we got through eating we ordered another cup of coffee.

"So what you're telling me is I'm on their radar but not to the point of getting thrown out and hurt?" I asked.

"As near as I can tell" she said.

I slumped in my seat as I gloomily contemplated a life of manual labor looming before me.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I'm pretty well screwed. Gambling was the last vocation available to me." I said.

She asked why and through the refills of our coffee cups I went into my life history and how my scandals precluded me from getting hired. She sat silent for a minute and said, "Why don't you just switch to poker?"

I told her, "I don't know how to play."

She was flabbergasted. "Wait a minute, you just walked into a casino having never played before and you been winning at blackjack ever since, but, you don't know how to play poker?"

I explained, "I saw blackjack was a very simple game. The object being to better the dealer's hand or allowing the dealer to bust. Even with a multideck shoe I could calculate the odds and play accordingly. But, I've never played a game of poker in my life."

"You do understand that in poker you aren't playing against the house? All you are doing is playing against other players. The only thing the casinos are interested in is their rake; that is, their cut from each hand played. They don't even care if you count cards and you only have to worry about one deck for each deal." She informed me.

I immediately saw the advantages to her suggestion, but, how would I learn the game. Impulsively I said, "Teach me!"

That surprised her and I repeated my request. "Teach me! I have a proposition for you. I will rent an apartment, you and your child will have free room and board. You won't have to worry about the two of you in that crime ridden neighborhood. You won't have to pay daycare because I'll look after your child. I can even start preparing your child for school. I'll put Nanny cams all over the apartment so that will alleviate any concerns I'm abusing your child. With no expenses, you could save up quite a sum."

"Yeah, I agree to that and teach you and then you just up and leave us in a couple of weeks!" she scoffed.

I could tell we both had major trust issues to deal with. "Alright, I'll rent the apartment on a year's lease in your name with the entire year paid in advance. In addition, I'll pay you a stipend of $500 a month for lessons over a year period again payable in advance. So you will be guaranteed one year in a nice apartment, $6,000 immediately at your disposal, no costs accruing to you except for personal items and your child will have her own personal tutor."

She continued to look at me weighing whether I could be trusted and finally she took a leap of faith and said we had a deal. I made arrangement to meet her at her address the next day after she got off work to move her and her daughter out of the trailer park.

At 7 pm, I drove the large U-Haul van into the trailer park. It was unsettling to see the number of covetous eyes looking at the truck as a quick score. When I stopped in front of the dilapidated trailer, Kaye and a small child quickly ran toward the cab of the truck. Both were struggling with large duffel bags. Kaye threw both bags into the cab and then climbed into the passenger seat and held her child into her lap.

With a worried panicked look on her face she ordered me, "Hurry!"

Taking her advice I quickly obeyed her and drove the vehicle out of the hellhole that the two lived in. The little girl continued to quake in fear and firmly grasped her mother to assure herself that she would not be abandoned. As she continued to burrow herself in her mother's embrace I asked Kaye where were their belongings. Her cryptic reply was that what they brought out was what was left after all the break ins at their trailer. That was my introduction into how harsh life had been for them.

I quietly drove as Kaye whispered words of comfort to her child. After thirty minutes of driving I pulled up to the apartment complex that I had negotiated a deal earlier in the day. I turned off the truck and them handed Kaye her set of keys. I picked up the duffel bags and led them to the apartment.

I unlocked the door and allowed them to enter first to discover their new abode. The little girl gawked at the large pristine barren room and slipping her hand away from her mother she started running through the rooms exploring. She was obviously excited by the stroke of good fortune from the evidence of her big smile.

I dropped the duffel bags and turned to Kaye, "Why didn't you have any furniture?"

"Anything I had that was decent had long been stolen. All that was left in there was broken down crap that wasn't worth moving. From what I know of the trailer park owner I knew I would never get back my security deposit, so, let him earn it by moving out all that crap." She explained as she too started going into the various rooms to explore.