my disgust as we passed by.
We finally came to the next archway. This one was square, more business-like, the lettering above the door was formal and read Fortuna.
“Fortune?” I guessed.
Bruno nodded. “We like the patrons to think they will come out rich.”
I wanted to rip the imperious grin right off his face. There was no point ripping off his mask either, because I’d just see an exaggerated version of the expression, and I didn’t think I could stomach it. I flicked my eyes back to the casino floor. We were now in the serious gambling room. The noise was quieter here, the background music a soft hum. There were no slot machines or garish colors. Everything in this room was soft and homey. Fairy lights sparkled from the ceiling, looking like stars. The floor lighting was dim and comforting. It looked like the room was lined with candles, but when I squinted to check, I could see they were actually clever electronics. The waitresses in this area were dressed in high-class suits, looking like English gentlemen. They carried trays with wide glasses, serving spirits and wine to the gamblers.
This was obviously a high-class room for betters who wanted to place more than two-dollar chips on the table. We wove around the roulette wheels and passed the poker dealers, coming to a stop behind the black jack tables.
“Be discreet,” Bruno spat in my ear.
I ignored him, looking up at Sal, who gave me a nod. I stepped forward and peered over the table, smiling at the lady beside me. She was obviously with her man. I could see the shiny ring on her fourth finger. I wondered if they’d just gotten engaged. Memories of Dale’s proposal to Nicole pierced me.
There didn’t seem to be the slightest chance that I’d ever be her bridesmaid now. The thought was depressing enough to buckle my knees again, but I gripped the back of the high stools and managed to control my limbs.
I shifted towards the man Santiago wanted me to check out. He sat looking smug with several high stacks of chips beside him. People were starting to gather, impressed by his winning streak. I narrowed my gaze and noticed it straight away.
Oh yeah, he was cheating. The look of jittery triumph was unmistakable on his exposed face. His fingers tapped the table nervously, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He wanted to keep playing, but he knew the danger increased with each hand. His eyes darted to the chips beside him, doing a quick calculation.
“Another round, sir? You wouldn’t want to give up this winning streak, would you?”
Everyone laughed at the dealer’s cheerful wink and smile.
The man nodded with a grin.
The dealer rolled his shoulders and dealt a fresh hand. I watched the winner carefully as he studied his cards. The dealer dealt for himself and then the winner tapped the table for his next card. He now had sixteen. He looked to the dealer as if trying to decide what to do, but with all masks off, I saw it clear as day.
The dealer! He was in on it, too.
His expression was a mixture of sweaty guilt and smug triumph.
I stepped back and whispered to Sal, “When does that dealer take a break?”
Bruno leaned towards the conversation. “What?”
I shifted my shoulders, hating the way his chest pressed against my back.
“I said, ‘When does the dealer take a break?’”
Bruno checked his watch. “It is usually one hour on, twenty minutes off.”
“Has this dealer been on the entire time?”
Bruno frowned, stepping back and pulling out his phone. He made a call and five minutes later he was back in my ear. In that time the crowd had cheered twice, the winner dragging even more chips into his possession.
“He’s had two breaks and is due for another in five minutes.”
“When he took those breaks, did the man playing the table leave as well?”
Bruno’s eyes narrowed. “You think the dealer is cheating?”
“I know he is. I can see it on his face.”
“They are in on it together?”
I turned to look
We finally came to the next archway. This one was square, more business-like, the lettering above the door was formal and read Fortuna.
“Fortune?” I guessed.
Bruno nodded. “We like the patrons to think they will come out rich.”
I wanted to rip the imperious grin right off his face. There was no point ripping off his mask either, because I’d just see an exaggerated version of the expression, and I didn’t think I could stomach it. I flicked my eyes back to the casino floor. We were now in the serious gambling room. The noise was quieter here, the background music a soft hum. There were no slot machines or garish colors. Everything in this room was soft and homey. Fairy lights sparkled from the ceiling, looking like stars. The floor lighting was dim and comforting. It looked like the room was lined with candles, but when I squinted to check, I could see they were actually clever electronics. The waitresses in this area were dressed in high-class suits, looking like English gentlemen. They carried trays with wide glasses, serving spirits and wine to the gamblers.
This was obviously a high-class room for betters who wanted to place more than two-dollar chips on the table. We wove around the roulette wheels and passed the poker dealers, coming to a stop behind the black jack tables.
“Be discreet,” Bruno spat in my ear.
I ignored him, looking up at Sal, who gave me a nod. I stepped forward and peered over the table, smiling at the lady beside me. She was obviously with her man. I could see the shiny ring on her fourth finger. I wondered if they’d just gotten engaged. Memories of Dale’s proposal to Nicole pierced me.
There didn’t seem to be the slightest chance that I’d ever be her bridesmaid now. The thought was depressing enough to buckle my knees again, but I gripped the back of the high stools and managed to control my limbs.
I shifted towards the man Santiago wanted me to check out. He sat looking smug with several high stacks of chips beside him. People were starting to gather, impressed by his winning streak. I narrowed my gaze and noticed it straight away.
Oh yeah, he was cheating. The look of jittery triumph was unmistakable on his exposed face. His fingers tapped the table nervously, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He wanted to keep playing, but he knew the danger increased with each hand. His eyes darted to the chips beside him, doing a quick calculation.
“Another round, sir? You wouldn’t want to give up this winning streak, would you?”
Everyone laughed at the dealer’s cheerful wink and smile.
The man nodded with a grin.
The dealer rolled his shoulders and dealt a fresh hand. I watched the winner carefully as he studied his cards. The dealer dealt for himself and then the winner tapped the table for his next card. He now had sixteen. He looked to the dealer as if trying to decide what to do, but with all masks off, I saw it clear as day.
The dealer! He was in on it, too.
His expression was a mixture of sweaty guilt and smug triumph.
I stepped back and whispered to Sal, “When does that dealer take a break?”
Bruno leaned towards the conversation. “What?”
I shifted my shoulders, hating the way his chest pressed against my back.
“I said, ‘When does the dealer take a break?’”
Bruno checked his watch. “It is usually one hour on, twenty minutes off.”
“Has this dealer been on the entire time?”
Bruno frowned, stepping back and pulling out his phone. He made a call and five minutes later he was back in my ear. In that time the crowd had cheered twice, the winner dragging even more chips into his possession.
“He’s had two breaks and is due for another in five minutes.”
“When he took those breaks, did the man playing the table leave as well?”
Bruno’s eyes narrowed. “You think the dealer is cheating?”
“I know he is. I can see it on his face.”
“They are in on it together?”
I turned to look
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