Going in Style (20 page)

“Boy,” said Al, shaking his head, “Willie would’ve loved this place, huh?”

“Yeah…” said Joe thoughtfully. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Hey, Willie! I hope you’re watching all of this.”

Al tapped him on the shoulder. “What are you talking about? He’s the one who’s probably setting it all up for us.”

After an hour-and-a-half, they quit. Al’s arm was so tired he had reverted to his initial form, when he tossed the dice now,
they would barely reach the end of the table.
Enough is enough,
Joe thought. Abruptly, he scooped up his chips.

“Thank you, gents,” he said, generously tipping the dealers and stickman. “Been a great pleasure.”

“You sure you wanna leave?” said Al. “If I just massaged the arm a couple—”

“It’s time,” said Joe. “It’s like they used to say about the stock market! Bulls make money. Bears make money. Pigs lose.”

Al shrugged. “Except when they win. In which
case, no one calls them pigs. But… I ain’t quarreling with the decision. Where to?”

“Cashier,” said Joe.

As they started across the floor they were confronted by the enormous breasts of the woman who had stood opposite them at
the table.

“Can I?” she said, looking down on them. Joe estimated her height, with heels, at six-foot-three.

“Can you what?” said Al.

“Give you a squeeze and a hug and a kiss for all you’ve done?”

“Can she?” said Al uncertainly.

“I believe it’s within the law,” said Joe.

The woman grabbed Al and cradled him in her arms. She kissed him forcefully on top of his head, leaving two perfect lipstick
lips on his bald spot. Then it was Joe’s turn. He found himself engulfed in overflowing flesh, his mouth and nose buried in
the woman’s fragrant cleavage. He felt her mouth press wetly on his forehead.

“Five years!” the woman squealed. “I’ve been betting these tables five years, and never have I had a night like tonight!”

“Me neither,” said Joe.

“You’re both dolls!” The woman blew them a kiss and pranced away.

“She reminded me of a gangster’s girl friend,” said Al. “I used to see a million of that type years ago.”

“I bet she loses that money fast,” speculated Joe.

Slowly, their eyes met. “Look at us,” said Al. “Standin’ here like we’re judges, or somethin’. Us, who robbed a bank, and
got a little lucky.”

“What the hell,” said Joe. “I ain’t been kissed
like that in years. And if she wants to blow whatever she won, who’s to say that ain’t the best thing to do with it?”

Al nodded, and they headed again for the cashier’s cage. The cashier, a woman, counted their chips at lightning speed, adding
subtotals on a calculator. Her professionalism had a hypnotic, mind-lulling effect; Joe and Al did not even check the tally
slip she pushed forward. “Twelve thousand, two hundred and seventy-five dollars,” she said crisply.

“You hear that?” said Joe.

Al was watching two girls in tight pants who were bending over the roulette table. “Very nice,” he said absentmindedly.

“Would you like cash, or would you prefer to leave it on deposit?” asked the cashier.

“That’s an interesting question,” said Joe. “I think maybe we’ll leave it here with you for a while.” He turned to Al. “That
okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Al.

The waitress, a leggy brunette in her late teens, stood awaiting their order. They were in the hotel coffee shop, and somehow
the forty-minute wait for service had not disturbed them. Joe looked up from the menu. “Uh, listen, I don’t see this here,
but could I have a cream cheese and jelly sandwich, sweetheart?”

She smiled, almost.

“Cream cheese and jelly?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll ask them in back, sir. And do you want that on rye or white?”

“Rye’ll be fine.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Coffee is good,” said Joe.

The waitress turned to Al. “And you, sir?”

Al folded the menu and handed it to her. “I’ll have the same as him.”

The waitress nodded, and left.

Joe watched her disappear into the kitchen. “Lotta good-looking women in this town.”

“Yes, there are.”

“After we eat, you wanna go to one of them naked girlie shows they got?”

Al yawned. “Ah, I dunno. I gotta think.”

“What’s to think?”

“I gotta decide whether I’m more interested in seeing naked women than in going to sleep.”

“Yeah,” agreed Joe reluctantly. “I guess I feel the same. Been a long day.”

“Years ago,” said Al, “I hardly needed any sleep at all. I could live for weeks on two, three hours a night.”

“Maybe we’re a little too old for this kind of nonsense,” said Joe.

“Oh, let’s not go
that
far,” said Al.

The waitress brought their sandwiches and coffee. “I’ll bet she’s a student,” said Joe, when she’d gone. “Works here in the
summers to support herself at UCLA the rest of the year. Parents are probably dirt poor.”

“You know somethin’?” said Al. “You’re a worse romantic than I am.”

They finished eating and stood up, brushing crumbs off their pants. The waitress had left their check on the table.

“You really think she’s a student?” said Al.

“Yup. She got a certain sweetness you don’t see in the real pro waitresses.”

Al nodded. “Joe,
is
it all right with you if I leave a hundred dollar tip?”

“You’re askin’ the romantic for advice?”

“Just answer.”

“Sure, it’s all right,” said Joe. “Why not? This is what money is for. Leave two hundred.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Two hundred dollars?”

“Ah, make it an even three hundred,” said Joe. “You know what it costs to send a kid to college nowadays?”

Al counted out three hundred dollars and placed the bills under a glass on the table. “I always wanted to do that.” As they
headed for the cashier, he said, “I can’t figure out what percent of the bill that is. I know it’s more than the guide books
usually recommend.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Joe. “She won’t care if we’ve broken the guidelines.”

While Joe was paying the check, Al started up with a very attractive woman in the lobby outside. She was wearing heavy, sequined
eye makeup and her shorts were so cut off that the cheeks of her round behind_peeked out. She smiled at Al, and he smiled
back. Then she opened her mouth slightly and licked her lips. Al straightened his sport jacket. She turned sideways, thrust
out her bosom and buttocks, and motioned with her head. Al walked over to her.

“Hi,” he said pleasantly.

“Hi,” said the woman. “How’re you tonight, sweetie? Feelin’ good?”

“Oh,. I’m feeling fine,” said Al. Since his back was to the coffee shop entrance, he did not see that Joe had come up behind
him and was gesticulating wildly.

Joe, of course, had spotted the woman as a hooker, and he was trying to make her understand that his friend was not fair game.

“Wanna feel even better?” she said throatily to Al.

Al stood a little straighter, and raised his eyebrows. “What you got in mind?” he asked.

Her eyes skipped to Joe, who pointed at Al, then made little circles next to his own ear and shook his head in an emphatic
“No.” The hooker gave an almost imperceptible nod to show she understood.

“My suggestion is, find yourself a girl friend,” she told Al. “A handsome man like you should have a woman alongside him to
help live it up.”

“How ‘bout you?” said Al. “I mean, as long as you brought it up.”

“I’d love to,” she said, “but my husband would kill me.” She blew him a kiss as she walked away. “Make some other chick happy,
tiger, will you?”

Al watched her vanish around a corner, and Joe came up beside him. “What was that all about?”

“Beats me,” said Al, “Some hooker, that’s all. Tried to pick me up, then changed her mind for some reason.”

“How’d you know she was a hooker?”

“Hey, come on, I was a bartender for years. If I say she was a hooker, you can put money on it.” Al paused, his face wrinkling.
“Which reminds me… You know, I never dreamed a place like this existed.”

Joe looked at him, and slowly shook his head.

“What are you staring at?” demanded Al. “Never mind. Just get me to them tables! I’m feeling hot!”

In the casino, it was as it had been before. Same
craps table, same escalating winning streak, even many of the same spectators. Only the dealers and boxmen were new. After
an hour, Joe and Al had a huge pile of chips in front of them, and huge piles riding on several numbers. As Al concentrated
and shook the dice, the nearly twenty bettors and onlookers around the table were suddenly quiet. Al threw the dice firmly
up against the far rail.

“Siiixxx!” chanted the stickman. “Easy six.”

A loud cheer went up from the crowd. The dealer pushed an awesome pile of chips toward Joe and Al.

“I ain’t never
ever
seen anything like this,” said Joe.

“Even in France?” teased Al.

“Anywhere,” said Joe. He turned to a large man next to him, a man wearing a Stetson hat and string tie. “Think we should quit,
Tiny?”

Tiny had been one of their big boosters, laughing and. matching them bet for bet. “Naw!” he said. “Soon you boys will be able
to buy this joint.
That’s
when you quit.”

“Tiny says we shouldn’t stop,” Joe reported to Al.

“Gee, I dunno,” said Al. “We’re doin’ pretty good here now.” He ran his fingers down a stack of chips. “How much you figure
we got?”

Joe shook his head. “I stopped counting around twenty minutes ago, and back then it was a little over thirty grand.”

“Thirty? Or thirteen?”

“Thirty, Al, and that don’t include the twelve grand from before.”

Al exhaled through puckered lips. “Holy Moses!” he muttered.

“I know,” said Joe. He saw that all the people
around the table, including the casino employees, were staring at him unashamedly. He could only nod politely and smile. Finally
the stickman said, “Will you be rolling again, sir?”

Joe slowly shook his head, Yes. He turned to Al. “Let’s go for one more throw, then cash in our chips and see what’s going
on.”

“I don’t know I—.”

“Stay with me on this, all right?” said Joe. “I got a feeling.”

“All right,” Al agreed reluctantly. “Whatever you say.”

Joe turned to the dealer. “Let’s take all those bets off the numbers… ah… except, let’s see… leave five hundred on the eight
and… uh… five hundred on the six.”

The dealer obeyed. Joe recalled with amusement how tentative he and Al had been with their first bets. And now here they were
commanding the hushed attention of employees and spectators alike. The stickman shoved the dice toward Al, who, with a swift,
practiced movement, banked them easily off the opposite rail.

“Sssevvv-en!” called the stickman.

As the losing bets were cleared off the felt, Joe offered Tiny his hand. “That’s it,” he said, smiling.

“You boys are okay,” said Tiny. “You ever down around Austin, you look me up.”

Joe and Al passed out small piles of chips to each of the dealers, the stickman, and the boxman. “Here you go, gentlemen,”
said Joe.

“Thank you, sir,” came the replies.

“Buy yourselves some hats,” Al called back, as he and Joe carried their chips toward the cashier’s window.

“Get ready to be rich,” said Joe out of the side of his mouth.

For the second time that night, they waited anxiously while the woman in the office ran up numbers on the calculator. When
she looked up, her face betrayed no emotion at all. “These total sixty thousand and nine hundred dollars,” she said. “Would
you like to have a check now, or shall I simply credit your account.”

Joe said shakily, “Just, uh, credit our account. For now.” He took the receipt she was holding out to him, started away, then
stopped suddenly and whirled. “How late are you open tonight?”

The cashier smiled. “We never close, sir.”

“Never close…”

“No, sir.”

Joe nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “Good poli-

Back in their room, Al flopped down on the bed. “Oh, that feels good. I could sleep for twelve hours. I figure we’ll wake
up late, have us a nice big breakfast. Then, maybe about twelve, one, in the afternoon we can go back in the casino.”

Joe paced. “We gotta get outta here right away.”

“What? Why?”

“Why? You heard the number that cashier gave us?”

“Yeah, I heard.” Al sat up. “What’s that come to, countin’ the money we won before?”

“A little over seventy-three grand,” said Joe, emphasizing each syllable.

“So why’s that mean we gotta leave?”

“Because that much money is serious stuff,” said Joe. “Some of them bums downstairs are gonna try and rob us, or the FBI’ll
wanna know who the old guys are.”

“Bums? What bums?”

“Al,” said Joe patiently. “This town has two classes of people. The suckers and the suckees. Half the audience at our table
were Mafia men, hustlers, confidence boys, call girls, and other assorted lowlifes—and the other half was there to keep an
eye on them.”