The Gamble

THE GAMBLE
By
Hannah E. Giles

It was one of those deceptively dull-looking cold, grey Nevada days
that are unbearably hot and humid, not that his journey had started out
like that. There had been bright sunshine as he cruised out of L.A on
the freeway, but as soon as he had crossed the Nevada state line the
weather had changed, almost as if it new what coming back meant to him.
As he drove he couldn't help but think of the very first time he had
gone to Las Vegas, he had been 18 and on a road trip with his friends,
trying to make the most of their last summer of freedom before they
went to college. He remembered how they had been on that damned
Greyhound coach for 5 days and nights. They had meant to stop along the
way but he had talked them into continuing until they got there. Even
before he had laid eyes on the place he knew he would find himself back
there many times in his life. And he had certainly been right about
that. He had gone back so many times it was like he never left.

Once he had experienced the place first hand nothing else held the same
draw, not college, his friends or even the career he spent so long
planning for. He may not have been old enough to indulge in the
gambling, drinking or any of the other moral vices this town offered,
but he could see what he was missing. At 21 he came back and fell
straight into the trap that many coming to Vegas do, thinking he could
win. Within 18 months he knew there was no way out, the place had him
hooked. He developed a routine. There were places he could stay, people
who lent him money, people to avoid and casino managers who knew his
face too well to welcome him back. They lured him in with room upgrades
and credit knowing that he wasn't going to leave, even when the money
and hospitality ran out. Which they always did. When that happened he
had had to leave town for a few days and recover some finance before
heading back into town to try his luck at another casino.

But that was a long time ago. Once she had made him break the cycle he
never dreamed that he would ever go back again, even though he missed
it everyday of his life. Of course that was why she had gone there. The
second she told him she was leaving for good he knew where she was
heading, to a place she thought he would never follow her. But, as
usual, she had underestimated him. From the first day that he had laid
eyes on her both their lives had changed. He was different then and
looking for a way out.

Looking at the road ahead he noticed a sign showing how few miles he
had left until he got there. He reached down into his bag for a tape.
He needed something to try and stop the pounding in his head caused by
these damn memories. The tape was one of hers; he recognised the music
as soon as it started. He pulled the tape out and wound the window down
to throw it out. The blast of hot, humid air cut through the car's air
conditioning and hit him in the face, like he had opened an oven door.
Momentarily he lost control of the car and it swerved across the
straight, deserted road. Instinctively he looked round to see if some
State Trooper had emerged from nowhere, which they were prone to do,
and was following him. But the road was clear. It was bad enough he was
in a rental car bought with a stolen credit card which he had no
intention of returning, but his face was so familiar around here that
if a cop recognised him he had no chance.

His new life of crime had been a high price to pay but at least it had
got him away from the one that was going to kill him, even though he
didn't see it that way.

His gambling addiction meetings, which the court had made him attend,
presented him with people who had been down like him but recovered to a
point where they were leading, or trying to lead, 'normal' lives. But
he didn't buy it. Sure, he kind of envied them, but he couldn't believe
that you could walk away from it and work a 9-5 job and live in the
suburbs. The mere thought of it at the time had made him want to catch
the next Greyhound back to Vegas. No, an addictive personality like his
needed feeding. But what he found to fill the void that gambling left
made his life no simpler. Stealing and drugs had done their best to
drag him as far down as gambling had. Whatever was going he tried, and
usually stuck with. But nothing could beat the feeling of being $10,000
up and on an 'unbeatable' winning streak. The part of a person that
makes them cut their losses and walk away was missing with him and had
affected him his whole adult life.

Not that Vegas hadn't been good to him. That was where he met her,
working in a casino and trying to escape her safe, middle-class
upbringing. They had had fun before she realised his addiction. His
dream of riding his lucky streak all the way to a beach in Mexico
thrilled her, it promised her the life of excitement she had been
seeking. But it wasn't to last, and he was in too deep to hide his
problem from her for too long. Once she could see where it was leading
she had persuaded him to get out, that there was a better place and a
better way of life waiting for him. He believed her, so one night they
just left. Throwing everything they owned into her beat-up car and
heading towards Los Angeles. Of course it hadn't been easy. He resented
her for making him start a new life that felt unfamiliar and left him
yearning to be back in Vegas. Living with a gambler and criminal had
taken its toll on her and aged her far more quickly than the passing
years. She must have left him a dozen times over their 7 years
together, even once their child was born. She had tried so hard to make
him quit the life she hated so much, but his argument was always the
same.

"You knew what I was like when you met me. I've never done anything to
make you think you could change me."

"But our life is so different now. You have more to live for."

But he had always walked out before he heard her response. Pretty soon
her desire to follow him waned, and she just let him go. She never
understood that what drove him back to the streets was not something
that the promise of a regular family life could change.

It was almost dark when he reached Las Vegas. The place was almost like
he remembered, but the skyline had changed so much. There must have
been a dozen new hotels that had sprung up since he had left nearly 9
years ago, and all of them looked to be modelled after some place in
the world. The irony of the situation hit him as he realised that she
could now see some of the world she always told him she wanted to
see.

"And you found it here." He thought to himself as he cruised down the
strip.

The sight of so many new hotels sent thoughts through his head that he
hadn't allowed himself to have for a long time. A dozen new casinos
that hadn't yet had the pleasure of his custom or a picture of his face
pinned to the manager's office wall. In 12 hours he could hit all of
them, a quick 5 grand in each and he could be heading back to L.A in
the morning with a cool $60,000.

As he passed one of the hotels that he used to frequent he saw a group
of boys, around the age he and his friends were the first time, being
'escorted' out by the security guard. They looked scared, but were soon
heading for another to try their fake ID's again. A small part of him,
a very small part wanted to jump out of the car and stop them, but he
didn't. After all no one had been there for him all those years ago. He
had had to learn the hard way.

He pulled into the parking lot of the hotel he knew she would be
working in. He collected his bag from the passenger seat before
throwing his keys to the valet and heading for the entrance. The place
was exactly how he remembered it, down to the waiter who took his drink
order. As he ordered his usual he looked for a flash of recognition in
the waiter's face, but it wasn't there.

He scanned the casino floor to try and see her, but couldn't. The place
was packed with tourists trying to double their plane fare home and
professional gamblers at various stages of success. He made his way
through the crowd trying to block the familiar sounds out of his head,
slot machines and cheering and dealers shouting instructions at the
intoxicated punters.

"Care to place a bet sir?"

He had made the mistake of lingering near one of the tables for too
long and had caught the eye of the croupier.

"Just walk away, you're here for her." He muttered under his breath and
moved on.

Finally he saw her, standing at one of the tables accepting bets from
leering aged gamblers, there as much for the women as the money which
they could afford to lose. He watched her for a while, making her money
from something she'd spent so long trying to get him away from.
Eventually he moved forward far enough so she could see him. Their eyes
met and she stood routed to the spot, her disbelief was apparent.

"Hi honey!"

He shouted sarcastically across at her at such a volume that everyone
seated at her table broke away from the game and looked up at
him.

"I'm working."

She responded angrily. But he wasn't going anywhere; he had come too
far.

The roulette wheel she had spun stopped.

"Black 22."

He smiled bitterly to himself as the number he had lost several
fortunes on in the past actually came up. She saw that he wasn't going
anywhere and called someone over to cover her break. She led him
through the casino and to the elevator.

"Bet you thought you'd really ditched me this time?"

He couldn't help but throw this at her as the elevator took them to the
staff floor of the hotel. She didn't respond. The years had taught her
not to answer every line he came out with plus she was still in a
little shock, he had been right about her thinking he wouldn't follow
her this time, despite his words to her as she pulled out of their
driveway in Los Angeles.

Her room was at the end of a long corridor and round a corner, the
place was deserted as all the rest of the staff were working or out on
their day off. She flung open the door and went inside. The long walk
to the room had turned her shock to anger.

"What the hell are you doing here? I'd have thought you'd have realised
that if I took the trouble to come all the way here I probably didn't
want you to follow me."

"You think you could just pack up and leave, after everything?"

"Yes, everything you put me through. You're never gonna live a regular
life and I'm not having my child brought up with a criminal for a
father."

"Yes, this is a much better environment for him, here in
this&;#8230;. place. And who made me a criminal in the first
place?"

The anger welled up inside him. She had pulled him out of this life and
made him stay away. What did she expect of him? For him to be like
those others who pretended to be cured of their addiction? At least
here he had had something to live for, the feeling of being a winner.
Even if it didn't last. Now all he had was a life of petty crime,
looking over his shoulder expecting to see a cop after him. The only
other thing he had was her; and now she wanted out. The long drive from
L.A had caused him to have doubts about coming here, but seeing her and
being back in this place where he felt alive renewed the feelings of
hate that had caused him to follow her.

She had been through this so many times and just wanted to be free of
him. She had tried so hard over the years, but he didn't listen and
probably never would. Now she just wanted a regular life without him.
She had stopped arguing and had dropped onto the bed crying. She didn't
see him reach into his bag.

As he fired the shots at her he felt a sense of relief; the life she
had made him live was over.

Putting the gun back into his bag he made his way back into the noisy
casino, which was oblivious to the recent activity on the staff
floor.

He reached into his pocket and produced a small roll of notes.

"I'm ready to make that bet now."

The croupier who had spoken to him earlier didn't recognise him from
the thousands of other punters he saw each night, but he soon
would.

THE END.