When The Chips Are Down! by Evelyn J. Steward (story reading .txt) 📕

When The Chips Are Down!

Night had a balmy feel about it. Out in the desert, the air was warm and sweet, stars shone like diamonds on a velvet pillow, but the desert was on the edge of town. Here in the middle of Vegas, all Lemmy Codd could smell was gas fumes, exhaust smoke and the thick scent of money changing hands at a rapid rate.
Lemmy rubbed his greasy fingers then dug into his pockets for his nightly stake. Looking up at the imposing doors of the Casino entrance, he sighed, then squared his shoulders and walked through the silently sliding doors that admitted him into the heart of the beast, the beast that was his fortune or his failure.
Checking his wad, he stuffed a hundred grand into his pockets and banked the rest in a safety deposit box in the Casino Bank whilst he walked the tables, gauging the players, the table edge and trying to make up his mind where to start first. Roulette? Black Jack? Poker? Baccarat
To loosen his stiff fingers, he decided a few dollars in the machines was the way to while away time until he made up his mind. He had all night, after all.
In the hall of slots, noise filled the room right up to the ceiling and down to the floor. Chink, chink, chink, not to mention the constant music that never ceased. Meant to loosen the mind, it served only to annoy Lemmy Codd. Every the time he pulled the lever to send the drums spinning, he ground his neck on his shoulders to ease the pain the noise was creating.
A handful of coins tumbled down into the tray beneath his machine. His contempt for the amount was palpable. It was a start though. He spun the drums again. Nothing! Again the lever bent floorwards. This time bells rang, the chink of coins sang a chain song into the tray. He had won the jackpot.
When all the hullaballoo was over, Lemmy gathered all the tokens into two plastic tubs someone behind him had offered.
They were heavy as he went to the teller's desk to exchange these pieces of metal for crisp notes. 10,000 tokens but when they were converted he got $2.500, not bad for a start. Walking towards the 'nest' of Black Jack tables that looked like so many mis-shapen green baize eggs mottled with vari-coloured chips and play circles, Lemmy Codd 'felt' the buzz,
Spying one likely 'egg' on the perimeter, Lemmy sashayed around the rim of the 'nest', always keeping one eye on the glittering decor and overhead lighting which covered the spy cameras constantly watching the clientele.
The Casino was emptier than at most times. People had gone to eat or get dressed for the evenings entertainment or to rest up from hard play, refreshing themselves for the nightly stint of late night gambling, so his vision was less restricted than it otherwise might have been. Lemmy was a serious gambler and it paid to be aware of his surroundings, of other players, of pit bosses.
Settling himself at the table he bought $500 of chips. The drinks waitress sidled up and offered him a selection of free booze. He looked them over, shook his head and asked for a Jersey Cobbler. The waitress nodded and moved on. The drink was new to her but the barman could look it up on the Casino database.
The music was less intrusive around the Black Jack and poker tables. Lemmy could concentrate on the deal as he started to play, placing a $10 bet on the table to give the impression he was an average Joe Smoe punter. He was dealt an Ace. Dealer got a picture card. A ten or a picture card would do him nicely. He got dealt a deuce. Dealer turns an Ace. Black Jack! Lost bet. Lemmy Codd upped the anti to $20.
After a stream of losing hands (barring the odd win), Lemmy sucked in air, trying to decide if he should change tables or change his game. He downed the last of his second Jersey Cobbler and left the table. The place was filling up now. As he walked towards the roulette section, the craps tables called to him. Diverting, he decided to try his luck. Craps wasn't his game but he won a few times. His self-confidence improved.
Unknown to Lemmy, he was being closely watched. Video monitoring was standard in the Casino business, but his scrutiny this time came from one of the bosses who knew Lemmy Codd and his contacts and wondered why he had come to Vegas and indeed, why he had picked his particular Casino?
Raszini sent down orders to the roulette tables 'don't let that man win'. He would be pointed out to the croupier of whatever tables he played. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right but Raszini, Lemmy Codd and his associates went back a long way and there were old scores to settle.
Lemmy placed a hundred dollars on 25, covered the bet with ten bucks on the red. The croupier spun the wheel. The little white ball chased the slots until the wheel finally slowed. It slotted into a lower number, but red so he won a small amount. A pit boss came up behind the croupier and whispered in his ear. That was the last bet Lemmy Codd won on that table.
He moved to a table on the far side. Made more bets. Each one lost. Now he knew for sure the 'game was up'. Good! That was just what his associates wanted. Returning to the Bank window, he retrieved the cash he had stashed earlier and went to play poker. Again he had a losing streak.
It was in the early hours of the morning when most punters had left with bleary eyes, just the stalwarts survived to play the last few hands. Lemmy had bet big and his luck had been up and down. Playing against others, the bosses couldn't always predict the cards without tipping their hand, so he won a few games. He bet $50 dollars and lost to a young man whose luck had run wild all night. He stood to stretch and cracked his spine. Picking up his chips he moved back to the roulette table. Red! He had to bet on red.
As he reached to throw his last two chips onto the table, a shot creased his head. His body lurched across the baize. The two chips slowly slipped from Lemmy Codd's fingers as he slumped forwards scattering chips across the table.
A single drop of blood fell onto the grid, landing on the zero. Before their eyes, it seemed to become a million dollar chip.
There were only ten such chips in Vegas. Only the largest Casinos had one in case a high rolling 'whale' decided to bet big in one go.
The frightened croupier had set the wheel in motion and an automatic reaction had sent the little white ball in a counter-clockwise movement. As Lemmy Codd finally fell, slow-motion towards the floor, the wheel slowed and the ball bounced its way into the zero chute.
Once in a lifetime. The players involuntarily cheered for the winning bet. Lemmy closed his fingers around his remaining chips. It was the last thing he remembered.

In hospital several days later, surrounded by bouquets of flowers, his visitors were pumping his hand in a congratulatory manner.
"Ya did it , Lemmy. The Boss is proud of ya. Raszini 's been sacked. The Boss moved in quick an' bought it up."
Lemmy grinned a satisfied smirk. "Was kinda neat, wasn't it?"

© Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. October 2002
(Edited May, 2012)
Words 1294

Publication Date: 05-02-2012

All Rights Reserved