“I think we should get casino security involved.”
“No need. I’d hate to be with him when bad karma finds him,” she said, leaning over and kissing me.
The next Sunday, I was working at the bar when Johnny Quinn sat down. He looked ill.
“How you doing, Johnny?” I asked. I could see that he was out of sorts. “Blue Label?”
“Water.”
“Sure thing, I said, filling the glass at the gun.”
When he collapsed off the chair, I mashed my emergency button, and dashed to the customer side of the bar He was still conscious when the Paramedics arrived. They whisked him away. After they left, I noticed they forgot his coat. On my break, I took it to the hat check where Jayna was working.
“Looked like you had a little excitement over at the bar.” she smiled.
“Johnny, your favorite customer. It looks like heart problems. Here, he forgot his coat.”
“I’ll give you the check. You can give it to him when he comes back.”
Three weeks later, Johnny returned to my bar.
“Andy, you saved my hide. He said. “I wanted to thank you for what you did.” He said as he wadded a hundred-dollar bill and stuffed it in my pocket.
“It’s no big deal… before I forget, I checked your coat into the coat check station. Here’s the coat-check ticket.”
“Thanks, it’s an expensive coat, I wondered what happened to it.”
“Are you going to hit the Craps tables?”
“Yeah, now I found my jacket. I just might throw a few times. The doctor said that I shouldn’t get too excited. But one little throw won’t hurt.”
Johnny picked up his ticket and retrieved his jacket. He headed over to the Craps table. Before he could make a bet, he passed out and did a face plant. The grimace on his face looked like he was in a lot of pain. He was dead before he got to the hospital. I guess it wasn’t okay to get excited after all.
After work, I picked up Jayna, and we drove back to my place.
“Your customer came and picked up his jacket at around ten,” she said.
“Yeah, he stopped by the bar and thanked me, tipped me a honey to show his thanks. Even though the doctors told him not to get too excited, he headed for the tables.”
“I have a confession to make.”
“About what?”
“I want through Johnny’s Pockets when you brought me the coat. I always do a complete inventory, sometimes I find cash or valuables. I tell the floor boss and we double count it and place it in the safe.”
“Did you find anything valuable this time?”
“A pair of loaded dice, and guess what? I tossed and they came up seven.”
“Shavers… that will certainly pique the attention of the casino. Did you call security?”
“Nope, I put them back where I found them and I left him a little gift.”
“What kind of gift?”
“A very tiny one. I slid a Death Stalker scorpion into his pocket where he stashed the dice.”
“That’s going to be a surprise?”
“He’ll only find it when he tries to remove the loaded dice. If he does, he’ll get stung.”
“How bad is the sting of a Death Stalker?”
“One-hundred percent fatal.”
“I guess this time his winning throw was a deadly one.” I grabbed her hand.
Part One: Vegas
Writer of Wrong 