by Bill H Myers
Abby apparently wasn't bothered by this likely delay. In fact, she looked happy as she sat in the passenger seat, humming softly.
With her being in a good mood, I figured it was a good time to ask the question I'd asked earlier but hadn't got an answer to.
“So, how do you know Kat?”
Without turning to look at me she said, “We're cousins. Her mother and my mother are sisters.”
“So she's family? That's good to know. Do you two hang out much?”
She sighed. “We did when we were kids. We pretty much grew up together. But as we got older, we went our separate ways. She got involved in the family business, and I didn't.”
With Boris leading it, I had a pretty good idea what the family business involved and knew better than to ask questions about it. Still, I wanted to know more about Abby’s and Kat's relationship.
“When was the last time you spoke with her?”
Abby didn't answer.
Thinking maybe she hadn't heard my question, I repeated it. “Abby, when was the last time you spoke with Kat?”
She shrugged. “I can't remember. It's been a few months.”
The strain in her voice when she answered told me she didn't want to talk about it. I didn't see a reason to push it any further, so I didn't.
Instead, I said, “Maybe we should listen to another CD.”
Without asking me which one, she put John Pinette in and pressed “Play.”
We were soon listening to him tell funny stories about his adventures at a Chinese buffet. He made it sound like a disaster, and we couldn't help but laugh.
An hour later, just as the CD was ending, we saw the first of the Vicksburg exit signs. We had left Jackson behind, gotten on I-20 going west and watched the miles tick off as we got closer to our destination.
Seeing the Vicksburg exit, Abby pulled out her map and looked at the route she had put together. She pointed ahead and said, “Take exit 1A. Then stay right, go up the hill past the casino and you'll see the sign for the RV park.
“Our reservations are for the Mendozas. Tony and Paige. If anyone asks or if you have to sign anything, be sure to use the Mendoza name. It's important.”
I was too tired to ask why, but if she wanted me to pretend to be Tony Mendoza, that's who I would be.
Ten minutes later, we were parked in site twenty-seven at the Ameristar Casino RV Park. The people in the office had no problem finding our reservation, and I had no problem signing in as Tony Mendoza.
Like all sites in the Ameristar park, ours was a pull through, which meant I didn't have to worry about backing the RV in. I just turned into the site, pulled up a bit and parked. After killing the motor, I went outside and hooked us up to shore power.
Back inside, I closed all the curtains, giving us privacy, and pushed the button to run the slide room out. The driver's side wall, from just behind the driver's seat to the end of the couch, moved out about thirty inches, almost doubling the amount of floor space inside.
With the slide out and the curtains closed, it was like being back home—everything looked the same. Except Bob and I had company. Abigail.
She had moved back to the couch, and Bob had come up front to join her. He seemed happy we were stopped for the night and I was too. Fifteen hours on the road, driving the big motorhome was about all I could do in a day.
The sun had set about an hour earlier, and by the time we'd gotten to Vicksburg, it was full-on dark. Fortunately, the road to the campground and all the sites in it were well lit. It was easy to see where everything was and I didn't have to worry about hitting anything when we drove in.
We hadn't eaten much since our quick lunch at the Flying J truck stop, eight hours earlier, so I asked Abby if she was hungry. “You ready to eat? I've got TV dinners in the freezer.”
She shook her head. “No thanks. No TV dinners tonight. Not when there's a buffet at the casino. Give me a minute to change, we'll go there to eat.”
She got up from the couch and headed back to my bedroom. I wasn't sure what she was going to change into, but I was sure it was going to be nicer than what I had on—faded cargo shorts and a light green fishing shirt.
Five minutes later, she returned, and all I could say was, “Wow!”
She was wearing a thigh-length, sleeveless, black cocktail dress with matching black high heels and carrying a small, black purse. Her hair was combed out so that it flowed over her bare shoulders and to me, she looked like a goddess. The transformation was stunning.
She smiled and asked, “You like?”
I nodded. “Yeah, a lot.”
She was still smiling when she said, “Good. As soon as you change, we can go. I've laid some clothes out for you.”
Had I not been so stunned by her transformation, I might not have been happy about her going through my closet and picking out what I was supposed to wear. But after seeing how great she looked, I'd wear anything she wanted me to, as long as it meant she would be accompanying me for the evening.
Back in my bedroom, I saw she had set out a pair of jeans, a white button up shirt and a belt for me to wear. I quickly put them on, combed my hair and rejoined her up front.
She smiled when she saw me and said, “You look nice.”
Then she said, “This is important. We're supposed to be the Mendozas. Once we get inside, don't call me Abby or Abigail. Just Paige. And I'll call you Tony. Got it?”
I nodded. “Yes, Paige, whatever you say.”
She smiled and motioned to the door. “The casino shuttle is waiting for us outside. Let's go.”
Like a gentleman, I opened the door and helped her out. Then, after making sure I had my wallet, I locked the motorhome and helped Abby, aka Paige, into the shuttle.
Her transformation had changed the dynamic between us. She was no longer the goat girl who had weirdly asked me to wear a wedding ring and had bought me gifts at a truck stop.
She was now something else; but I wasn't quite sure what.
It was a short ride from the RV park to the casino. From the outside, the place looked like an old-time Mississippi river boat. White with a multistory red paddle wheel emblazoned with the word “Ameristar” in neon. Four simulated smoke stacks towering above the top deck added to the illusion.
Even though much of the facade was fake, it was a real boat docked on the Mississippi River. It couldn’t ever leave the dock under its own power, but it was a real boat. Mississippi law required it. Casinos in the state had to be on the water like riverboats of the past.
When the shuttle dropped us off at the front door, Abby grabbed my hand and led me inside. We walked past the rows and rows of slot machines, past the poker room and headed for the escalator leading to the buffet.
There was a short line, and it didn't take long to reach the pay station and get seated. Our server took our drink orders and told us how the buffet worked. We could get anything we wanted and go back as many times as we liked. The only rule was we had to get a new plate each time we returned to the food line.
After the server left, I followed Abby and stayed close to her as we loaded up our plates with food. It wasn't that she needed or even asked me to stay close, I just felt like I wanted to.
We both got the same thing, brazed salmon, wild rice, and steamed broccoli. Probably the healthiest food you could find at a casino buffet.
After finishing off our first plate, we picked up clean plates and went through the dessert line. They had a lot of tempting choices including chocolate cakes, chocolate mousse, chocolate puddings, chocolate pie, chocolate chip cookies, and even a chocolate fountain.
Abby passed on all the chocolate and said key lime pie would go better with the salmon we’d eaten, so we both got a slice and headed back to our seats. The pie turned out to be pretty good. Not as good as what you can get in Key West, but still, better than average for a casino buffet.
After finishing our pie, Abby looked at me and asked, “Have you got the cash Devin gave you from Boris?”
> I shook my head. “No, I left it in the motorhome. Why?”
She smiled, “I wanted to borrow a hundred dollars. But if you don't have it, it's okay.”
I wasn't sure why she'd need a hundred dollars, but I had more than that on me and couldn't see any reason not to share it with her.
I pulled out my wallet and picked out a ten and hundred. I put the ten on the table for the server, and instead of giving the hundred to Abby, I kept it hidden in my hand.
I didn't think it would look right, me handing her a hundred-dollar bill in the crowded restaurant. People might get the wrong idea, so I said, “Paige dearest, are you ready to go?”
She nodded, stood and took my hand. When she did, she felt the hundred and smiled. She leaned into me and whispered, “I'll pay you back.”
Then she gave me a kiss on the cheek.
Still holding my hand, she led me down the escalator to the nearest cashier cage. She slid the hundred under the bars and got five twenty-dollar chips in return.
With chips in hand, she headed over to the gaming area. She stopped near the slot machines and picked up a white plastic chip bucket and handed it to me. She said, “Hang onto this. We'll need it.”
Then she headed to the nearest roulette table. Remembering what Devin had told me about not letting her gamble, I was starting to worry. Maybe she did have a gambling problem. And maybe she was about to lose a lot of my money. I'd soon find out.
There were only two other people at the roulette table, and the dealer was waiting for bets to be placed.
Abby stared at the motionless wheel for a moment then placed all her chips on the square for twenty-eight black. The dealer looked up, apparently surprised that a new player was going all in on one number. According to the small placard, the odds of winning on a single number in roulette were thirty-five to one. After waiting for the two other players to place bets, the dealer announced, “No more bets,” and spun the wheel.
When it reached maximum velocity, he dropped a small white ball onto the spinning wheel and we waited to see where it would land.
Chapter Eleven
The two other gamblers at the table were yelling, “Come on, red; come on, red.” They were urging the little white ball to settle into any of the red slots. If it did, they would be winners.
Abby didn't say anything; she just watched with a slight smile on her face. She didn't seem worried that she'd just bet the full hundred she'd borrowed on a thirty-five-to-one long shot.
We watched as the little ball hit the first gate and was knocked violently back up against the outside rail. Losing momentum, it fell back onto the spinning wheel and bounced in and out of the numbered slots. With each bounce, it slowed a bit and would soon find a home in either a red or black.
Abby watched intently, saying nothing as the ball made its way around the wheel. She was standing on my left and had taken my hand in hers as soon as the dealer dropped the ball. Her grip had gotten tighter as the ball slowed toward its final destination.
The shouts from the other two betters had taken on a sense of urgency. “Come on, red; come on, red.”
The ball slowed, and they cheered as it fell into twenty-one red. But instead of stopping there, the ball bounced out, and when it finally settled, their cheers were replaced with groans.
The dealer called out, “Twenty-eight black. We have a winner.”
He quickly retrieved the losing chips and placed them in a hidden slot near his station. Then he counted out thirty-five one-hundred-dollar chips, and slid them over to Abby.
She smiled, picked them up and dropped all but one into the bucket I was holding. The dealer again called out, “Place your bets.”
Abby looked at me and shook her head. She whispered, “Let's look for another table.”
She turned and scanned the room. After a moment she nodded toward a roulette wheel in the far corner and said, “Over there. That one.”
Still holding my hand, she made her way over to the table she'd picked out. The dealer had just spun the wheel, and three people who had placed bets were watching to see if they had won or not.
Abby watched as well. She didn't take her eyes off the wheel until the ball settled. When it did, she whispered, “Not this one.”
She turned and scanned the room. After a moment she said, “Over there.”
Still holding my hand, she led me to another roulette table. The wheel at that one had been spun and the ball dropped. Abby watched as it circled around until it settled into a red slot. Even though she hadn't bet, she seemed satisfied with the result.
After the winners were paid, the dealer called out, “Place your bets.” Abby didn't hesitate; she put one of her hundred-dollar chips on twenty-four black.
The dealer waited for other bets, and, after a minute, called out, “No more bets.” He spun the wheel, and after it got up to speed, he shot the ball against the outside rim. It ran clockwise against the counter clockwise spin of the wheel.
We watched as the ball raced around and listened to bettors near us urging it to drop onto their chosen color. Abby was silent, squeezing my hand as the ball slowed and began the search for its final destination.
When it stopped, there were cheers from the winners and groans from the losers. The dealer called out, “Twenty-four black. We have a winner.”
He scooped up the losing bets, paid off the winners and slid another thirty-five one-hundred-dollar chips over to Abby. She picked them up and dropped them into the white tub I was holding. With seventy chips in it, it was starting to get heavy.
In less than twenty minutes, she had won seven thousand dollars by placing two long shot bets on roulette. She was on a hot streak, and I expected her to want to play more. But I was wrong.
She tugged my arm and whispered, “We need to leave.” There was urgency in her voice so I didn't argue. She led me over to the nearest money cage and cashed out. I watched as the lady behind the bars count out seven thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills.
She placed them in a white envelope and slid it over to Abby, who picked up the envelope and handed it to me. Then she whispered, “We need to leave, now.”
She took my free hand and headed for the casino's front door. We were just a few steps away when a well-dressed woman holding a clipboard stepped in front of us. Abby tried to walk around her, but the woman moved to block us. Two men wearing suits walked up behind the woman and stood to her side.
She introduced herself as Jen Wilson, head of guest services for the casino. In a very polite voice, she said, “I hope you are enjoying your visit here. As one of our preferred guests, we'd love for you to stay awhile and enjoy all that we have to offer.
“Are you staying here in one of our rooms?”
I shook my head. “No, we're in the RV park.”
Abby squeezed my hand. Apparently, she didn't want me telling the woman where we were staying.
Jen Wilson smiled and said, “That's great. But we can do better than that. We can give you two nights in one of our winner's suites overlooking the Mississippi River. On the house, of course. This would include complimentary meals and tickets to tomorrow night's shows. Just say yes, and I'll arrange it for you.”
She was all smiles. Friendly as could be. But Abby wasn't having any of it. She said, “We appreciate the offer, but we're leaving early in the morning and have already spent more time here than we planned.”
After giving her answer, she made a move to get around the woman, but as before she was blocked. The woman said, “Please reconsider. We don't want you to miss out on staying in one of our premier suites. It has a fantastic view, and we can offer free room service—anything you want from our menu.”
Jen Wilson was determined to have us stay. She didn't want us leaving any time soon, especially with Abby’s seven-thousand-dollars in roulette winnings.
Abby looked at me, smiled and said, “It would be nice to spend the night in a suite. Maybe we could do it on the way back.”
She turned t
o the woman and said, “We can't do it tonight, but if the offer is good for next week, we'd be happy to take you up on it. Can you give us a voucher we could use when we come back?”
Chapter Twelve
It had been a brilliant move on Abby's part. The casino host had to decide whether it was worth losing a whale by not extending the free room offer to a future date. If she said, “No,” chances were good Abby and I would not return to the casino.
But if she did extend the offer, there was a chance we would come back, and the casino might get back some or all of the money that Abby had won.
Instead of answering right away, she tapped her left ear and looked up at an overhead security camera. Apparently, she wanted guidance from above.
After a moment she said, “Yes, we can extend the offer. It'll take a few minutes to get the details printed up. If you'd like to wait over by the bar, we'll bring them to you when they’re ready.”
Abby smiled. “That's great. But no need to hurry. Just leave it at the guest services desk. We'll pick it up before we leave in the morning.”
The woman nodded. “Are you sure you don't want to wait? It'll only take a few minutes. I just need your names and contact info.”
Abby squeezed my hand, harder than before. She didn't want me answering the question because she was probably afraid I'd forget about us being the Mendozas.
Jen Wilson was waiting, pen at the ready when Abby said, “We're the Mendozas. Paige and Tony. From Duck Key, Florida. We'll drop by the guest services desk to pick everything up before we leave in the morning.”
While she was writing our names, Abby maneuvered me around the woman, and we headed out the door where the casino shuttle was waiting.
We hopped in and Abby told the driver, “RV park, please.”
The driver, not noticing the casino host with clipboard in hand, coming out behind us, put the van in gear and took off.
When we got to the park, the driver asked, “Where can I drop you?”
Abby said, “Site seventeen, please.”
I started to tell her it was the wrong site, but she squeezed my hand again. She wanted the driver to think we were in seventeen.
