"Want the hard five," Duffy shouted. "Gimme five thousand on the hard five."
Beano threw the chips out and Duffy threw the loaded dice. They hit and rolled and came up ten, the hard way.
"Eeeeaaahhh," Duffy shouted and then began to gag and choke.
"Pay the line. Pay the hard ten," the Stick-man droned.
Luke watched as thirty thousand dollars was pushed up against the rail where Duffy was sitting. Duffy quickly retrieved his doctored dice and palmed the casino's original dice back into the game. He bet another twenty thousand on the come line and rolled the casino dice again.
"Point is four. Four is the point," the Stick-man droned. Four is also a two-to-one bet against the shooter.
"Double odds on the four," Duffy wheezed, making his first really shrewd bet. In craps it is possible, after rolling a point, to bet twice your original bet as an odds bet. That meant if he made the four he would get paid on the original bet at even money, but the odds bet, which was twice as large as his original bet, would pay off at two to one, or at the correct odds. Luke Zigman didn't like the fact that this deadwood player had stopped making sucker bets and was now playing smart.
"Be good to Daddy, be good, be good," Harry said as he pulled the casino dice out of the game and switched them for a loaded pair of hard fours he secretly snapped out of the wheelchair arm. He rolled the loadies.
"Hard four, a winner. Pay the line, pay the odds bet," the Stick-man said, and looked over at Luke. The old duck had won back all of the money he'd lost that afternoon in two rolls.
Luke picked up the phone, turned his back to the table, and dialed the office again. "Mr. Buzini, this guy just hit us twice for over fifty grand. You wanna leave this no-limit on?"
"Is he still betting stupid?"
"No. All of a sudden he's turned into a player."
"Float the dice. If they're okay, leave it on, but keep me posted."
Luke hung up and turned around as the Stick-man was about to push Duffy's dice back to him with the curved stick. Luke scooped them up off the table, looked for the imperfect S, then dropped them into a glass. They all watched as the dice floated but didn't roll. The cellophane had already returned to its natural, gaseous state.
"Want my lucky dice," Duffy wheezed angrily.
"Okay, let's play," Luke said and the doctored dice were dried with a napkin and pushed back to Duffy, who palmed them immediately off the table and replaced them with the casino's original dice.
Now Duffy pushed out the whole fifty thousand dollars he'd just won. "Let 'er go," he said. And then he began to wheeze and cough and cause a huge distraction to take everybody's mind off his bet. His body started to convulse. The few people who were in the casino had found their way to the crap table.
The Stick-man counted the fifty-thousand-dollar bet and became nervous about letting it stand.
"We'll allow twenty," he said, finally making his decision. "That's the new table limit."
Duffy was shaking his withered body. He was beginning to convulse slightly.
"Uncle Harry, you've got to take your medicine. You'll have one of your seizures if you don't take it now."
"Fuck it. Fuck the medicine," Duffy wheezed. "These ass wipes was perfectly willing to take my money when I was losing with no limit. Now… I'm winning, all of a sudden we gotta new set of rules." The people standing around murmured their assent. They agreed it didn't seem fair. Duffy was shaking badly now, his chest heaving torturously.
Luke called for Arnold Buzini, who now hurried out onto the floor and was witnessing the disturbance. Some of the other players were now siding loudly with Duffy.
Luke looked up at Buzini questioningly, and the Shift Manager nodded his approval.
"Okay, we'll accept the bet," Luke said.
Duffy grinned and shook and drooled slightly as he picked up the casino dice and rolled them.
"Seven, a winner," the Stick-man said, and Duffy's bet was matched. A hundred thousand dollars was now out on the green felt.
"Let the fucker ride," Duffy wheezed. "Let 'er ride."
"Take the medicine, Uncle Harry," Beano said. "You'll have a convulsion."
"Shut the fuck up," Duffy croaked, his arm now started convulsing as he reached for the dice. He dropped them once, had trouble regaining them, and finally rolled them feebly. They barely hit the rail at the end of the table.
"Point is eight."
"Eighter from Decatur." Duffy shook and wheezed.
"What the hell's wrong with him?" Buzini said.
"He's epileptic. He won't take his medicine. Says it jinxes him."
"Sir, you should take your medicine," Buzini said.
"Go fuck a duck," Duffy replied. "Eighter from Decatur. Come to Papa," he drooled and switched the dice again. Now, with the doctored eights in his hand, he warmed them… holding them in his palm while Beano shoved the bet out. Duffy rolled the loaded dice and won.
"Winner. Pay the line," the Stick-man said.
There was now over half-a-million dollars in chips on the table.
"Float 'em," Buzini demanded again, and Luke grabbed the dice off the table, first checking them under an ultraviolet light for the stripe of color, and then dropped them in a glass of water. Buzini leaned in and watched closely. They didn't roll.
"The Price Is Right," Duffy trumpeted. "My lucky dice. Harry wants them bones." Duffy now started to shake slightly in the seat of the chair. He looked very sick. His head was lolling, he was losing control of his convulsing arm.
"Sir, I think you should see a doctor," Buzini said.
"I'm winnin', so I'm grinnin'. Gotta go. Gotta go. Luck's on my side. Let 'er ride."
Buzini was looking at the pile of gold chips on the table. He knew that one house roll would bring the casino back to even. He also knew this was loser's logic, but he didn't know what to do. "Get Tommy on the phone," he said to Luke. Buzini didn't want a million-dollar loss on his shift report. He wanted to be taken off point. He'd get Tommy Rina to approve the action.
Luke looked at his watch. "It's three-forty-five A.M.," he said.
"There's half-a-million bucks on the table. Call him. He'll wanna know."
Luke started to dial while they all waited.
"Gotta go, gotta go. What's the problem? Gotta go," Duffy complained, stirring the crowd, most of whom were also now betting and winning with him.
"Who the fuck is this?" Calliope's sleep-filled voice said over the phone. She was in the bed in the large private villa Joe owned, adjacent to the hotel.
"This is Luke, in the casino. Gotta talk to Tommy. Put him on."
"Tommy ain't here, the little prick. God knows where the fuck Tommy is," she said, and slammed down the receiver.
Luke looked at Buzini and shook his head.
"Gotta go, gotta go. Let's do it… gotta go," Duffy started shouting. Buzini didn't know what to do.
"For God's sake, let him shoot. He's getting so excited he's gonna have a grand mal. You haven't seen anything till you've seen one of those fuckers," Beano warned.
"Okay. New dice. Let's roll 'em," Buzini said, as two Pit Bosses from ajoining tables wandered over to watch.
They brought out a new set of casino perfects. Buzini checked them, then dropped them on the table. They were pushed over to Duffy.
Duffy tapped them on the green felt then rolled a six.
"Point is six. Good point for the shooter," the Stick-man droned.