Odd. I expected streamers or a confetti canon. Or you know, a SWAT team to charge into the casino and wrestle me to the floor.
I mark eight more cards on the next deal. So far, so good.
Someone should tell that to my stomach, though. My indigestion can no longer be blamed on the smoothie. Why did I put beets in it? Beet burps are the worst.
My cheeks warm and pulse spikes, but I keep going. Since my table is almost full, I’m able to mark about half of the high-value cards in the shoe within twenty minutes. I’ve only got two decks tonight, so it shouldn’t take long at this rate.
When the cocktail of panic and guilt pokes through my resolve, I bring forth the memory of Kenzie’s picture for a quick reminder of why I’m breaking the law.
Silas said I’d get directions on where to pick her up at the end of my shift if I did what I was told. So far, the card marking hasn’t drawn notice, as far as I can tell. The floorman and undercover security guards aren’t hovering the way they do when they’re getting suspicious of a cheater. Can’t be sure of the camera surveillance crew, but the vibe here on the floor is perfectly normal.
After the next hand, I pause to shuffle the cards since the dealing shoe is almost empty. I have Keith cut the deck, then reload the shoe and give the signal to the man sipping a beer about ten feet from my table.
Well, I assume that’s him since he’s leaning against a bank of slot machines, which matches Silas’ instructions. Being a good little cheater, I roll my shoulders twice, then crick my neck from side to side as if easing an ache in my upper back. Not a problem, considering every muscle in my body has been tense since Kenzie was taken a week ago.
Silas didn’t tell me how many people were involved in this scam. For all I know, my table is full of those kidnapping mother-truckers. Except Keith, of course. He’s keeping me tethered—a familiar face in the sea of despair.
The last open chair at my table is filled as a man in his early twenties joins the game. This must be one of the members of the cheating ring. He looks dangerous. Dirty.
For clarity, I’m not referring to him having dirty dimples. I’m talking about his filthy soul.
“Is this a lucky table?” he asks in an icy tone.
Yep. That’s him.
Despite wanting to wave over security to restrain him, I offer one of my patented cordial smiles. Under protest, I welcome him to the game.
In the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder if this is one of the men who hurt Kenzie. Does he know where she is? How could I compel him to tell me?
For the umpteenth time, I contemplate calling the cops for help.
And like all the other times I’ve had this thought, I push it away because of what they promised they’d do to her if I did. They’ve been very clear that they’re watching my every move—both in and out of the casino.
I can’t risk it with Kenzie’s life on the line. And mine too.
After a few deals, the newcomer increases his bets. Nothing dramatic at first. Slowly, as his success continues, he gets bolder. He wins more and loses less often. If he keeps going at this rate, he’ll definitely draw the attention of the surveillance team. It’s possible they’ll think he’s counting cards, which isn’t illegal, but it’s enough to get him backed off the table.
As if he’s reading my thoughts, he stops suddenly. Standing, he slides his rather impressive stack of chips out of the betting circle.
“I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead,” he announces. “Cash me out, please.”
I pull his chips to the center, stack and count them like normal, and pass him the larger-value chips he can take to the cashier’s cage.
He’s only up about eight grand. While it’ll get him out of the casino without scrutiny, it’s not enough to make this scam worth it.
Someonepleasetell me my friend’s life and my freedom are worth more than eight thousand dollars. I have more than that in my savings account. I’d have gladly paid it for Kenzie’s safe return. I offered it to Silas so many times.
Not five minutes later, my break time rolls around, and the floating dealer takes over my table. As soon as I’m off the casino floor, I race to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach into the first available toilet.
The tears rolling down my cheeks aren’t only from the violent heaving.I feel dirty and somehow violated. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to scrub my soul clean from what I’ve done.
Although it may seem like a victimless crime on the surface, it isn’t. Not even close.
Sure, the house has the advantage and will always make more than they lose. As I’ve come to learn from working here,the indigenous people use the revenue from casinos to better their society and provide essential services. Thus, I’m helping Silas and his cronies take money from their mouths, quite literally.
Plus, by caving to his demands, I’m empowering him to continue doing this to more people at other casinos. I’m under no illusion that he’ll stop with me. I’d imagine this is only the beginning.
And I’m part of it.
