“You’ve already thought this out.”
“Every last step. No one will suspect a thing.”
Her eyes danced with possibilities. Fifteen years ago, sitting in the front seat of her sputtering Toyota in a McDonald’s parking lot in Providence, Mags had revealed her dream to run with a crew in Vegas. Now Billy was offering her the chance to make that dream come true.
“You’ve hooked me,” she said.
“Is that a yes?”
“What’s my take?”
His heart did that funny thing again. “Victor says we’ll steal fifty million easy and split the money in half. What would you say if I gave you two million bucks to work your magic?”
“Are you serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
Mags shut her eyes and hugged herself. Up until a few minutes ago, she had no money, no life, and a future as uncertain as a weatherman’s forecast. “Does that make us partners?”
“If that’s what you want, yes.”
Her eyes opened. “If I get caught painting cards, they’ll put me away for life. Go see your friend Victor and let him show you this scam. Then call me with the details.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” she said.
Fifty-Six
The Boswells ran their operation out of the Lucky Strikes bowling alley on the east side of Sacramento. Billy and his crew arrived at noon in a rented SUV and parked in the deserted lot. A sign taped to the front door read CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY.
Two hours later, Billy walked outside of the bowling alley for some privacy and called Mags on his cell phone while standing in the building’s cool shade. “The blackjack scam’s better than I thought,” he told her. “Victor did it for us a dozen times, and I still don’t have a clue how it works. We could end up owning a casino by the time this thing’s over.”
“You’re pulling my leg,” Mags said.
“I’m serious. This is the holy grail of cheating.”
“Do you really think we could end up owning a casino?”
Crews of cheaters had bankrupted casinos in Monte Carlo, Biloxi, and the Bahamas, but never in Las Vegas. There was a first time for everything and he said, “I don’t see why not.”
“Dreams can come true, and they can happen to you, if you’re larcenous at heart,” she sang into the phone. “Do you have a date in mind?”
“The first Sunday of the NFL playoffs. Vegas is a zoo then.”
“Sounds like a plan. Where are you taking me to dinner so we can celebrate?”
“Don’t you need a pass to get out of that place?”
“I’ll sneak out without telling anyone.”
“Does this make us partners?”
“I believe it does.”
They settled on an Italian restaurant called Geno’s, and he agreed to drive to the Rehmar Residences and pick her up after his flight landed that afternoon. He ended the call thinking that a door had opened in his life. He’d been running solo a long time, and the novelty had worn off. It was time to partner up. Sure, Mags was a loose cannon, but so were most people who made their living thieving. With the right supervision and guidance, she’d do just fine.
At four he landed at McCarran, got his car from short-term parking, and broke every speed limit driving to her place. At the north end of the Strip he found a jewelry store in a strip center and overpaid for a glittering diamond necklace. He hated getting ripped off but put the feeling aside. He wanted to impress, and he didn’t care what the necklace cost.
Back on the road, he called Mags and got voice mail. He left a message telling her he was running behind and would be there soon. His voice was filled with excitement and he felt like a teenager going on his first real date.
Twenty minutes later, he parked in front of the recovery residence where Mags was living, got out of his car, and spent a moment composing himself. He had robbed every casino in Vegas — some of them multiple times — and could not remember feeling so nervous.
He headed up the brick path. It was strange, but when he thought about Mags, it wasn’t in the context of scamming the casinos but of them doing things together, like buying a house or taking a vacation. Stupid mundane shit that had never seemed important, until now.
He removed the jewelry box from his pocket. The pretty salesgirl had wrapped it with silver paper and a crimson bow. He took a deep breath before pressing the buzzer. A tough-looking broad with a butt dangling from her lips answered the door and gave Billy the once-over.
“Hey handsome, what can I do for you?” she asked.
“I’m looking for Mags,” he said.
“Who?”
“Maggie Flynn. She’s a resident.”
“Hold that thought.”
The door was shut in his face. Several minutes passed, and he told himself good things were worth waiting for. When the door reopened, a barefoot woman without makeup stood before him. She also found Billy enjoyable to look at.
“Aren’t we a breath of fresh air,” the barefoot woman said.
“I’m looking for Maggie. She’s expecting me,” Billy said.
“No, she’s not.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your girlfriend blew out of here a few hours ago. Prince Charming driving a Mercedes whisked her away. She asked me to give you this, in case you came by.”
Billy’s hand was trembling as he took the envelope from the barefoot woman’s hand. Mags had written Now we’re even on the front for all the world to see.
“Want to come in?” the barefoot woman asked.
“Some other time,” he said.
Sitting at a traffic light, he read her note. Mags had decided to give Tinseltown a try and had convinced her daughter to fly out to LA and meet her. She was tired of the grifter’s life and trying to outrun the law, and was giving up cheating for good. She ended the note by telling Billy that he would always be in her heart but that it was best if he just let her go.
So this was how it felt to get dumped. It was a new experience, and he didn’t like it. He told himself he’d get over her, but deep down inside, he knew that was a lie. Mags was his first love, and he would always regret not getting it right the first time.
His heart was aching as he shredded the note and tossed the pieces out the window as he burned down the highway. In the rearview mirror they danced like butterflies on the dark pavement.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the following people for their contributions to this book. Russell Barnhart, for writing Beat the Wheel, the definitive work on beating the game of roulette. Kjersti Egerdahl and Kevin Smith, whose story ideas and editorial contributions are always welcome. My wife, Laura, for being my biggest fan. And a very special thanks to the crew of cheaters I met in Las Vegas who agreed to let me tell their story.