CASINO SHUFFLE (25 page)

Sadiya called out behind them.
 
“Tomorrow I take the rest of your chips – then we celebrate!”

Cash waved his thick arm to shoo away the flock of tuxedos milling before them.
 
“Them Arab women got big bushes you know,” he said.
 
“They can’t shave them.
 
Some kind of religious thing.”
 
He catapulted them both towards the bar and jabbed two fingers into the air.
 
“
Champagne
!”
 
He propped Max up next to him and tipped back his rattlesnake cowboy hat.
 
“So, speaking of bush.
 
Are
you getting any?”

Max tucked his finger into his shirt collar and tugged.
 
“It’s hot in here.”

“Do you at least whack off once in awhile?”

Max groaned and gulped champagne.

Cash wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
 
“You can’t be tensed up for poker.
 
I used to play with a guy that would get a blowjob under the table every four hours.
 
He was impossible to bluff.
 
Cool as a cucumber.”

“I have to go call Antonio.”

Cash rolled his eyes.
 
“I think that guy is a fag.
 
No offense.
 
I know you’re friends and all.
 
But who acts like that in real life?
 
He’s too fussy.”

“You said
I
was fussy.”

Cash eyeballed him suspiciously over the rim of his champagne flute.

Max pushed away from the bar.
 
“I’m leaving.”

“Wait!”
 
Cash blurted champagne out of his mouth.
 
“I got it!
 
You have to go fuck Sadiya.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Cash bellowed after him, “It would make you feel better!”

Max bolted recklessly into the crowd, pushing several people away from their respective conversations and getting a few well-deserved insults as he forged onward muttering apologies.

A tray full of champagne swam past him and he plucked one away, sloshing some onto the arm of his suit coat.
 
The rest he sloshed into his stomach.
 
Someone bumped him from behind to help the process and he choked on his last swallow.
 
Now his head was all loosey-goosey.
 
His neck wasn’t working right and the room dimmed a little bit.
 
Someone was moving the carpet underneath his feet, tugging on it.
 
Made it hard to walk straight.

He should call
Shannon
to make sure she didn’t need anything.

Max stopped suddenly.
 
The crowd swooned around him.

Call her to make sure she doesn’t need anything?

What was he thinking?
 
He wasn’t her butler.
 
He wasn’t anybody’s butler.
 
He wasn’t even a
butler.

The crowd of tuxedos and cowboy hats began to press in around him, filling the empty path where he’d been walking.
 
A nearby cluster babbled and laughed.
 
Max was absorbed into them.
 
Funny innuendoes garbled in his ears.
 
Someone asked, “What was it like when you went to Cabo?”
 
Max saw another cocktail waitress, silver cowboy hat navigating the dark waters of the crowd like a battleship, and he swam after her.
 
He followed her so closely he had to fight the urge to hang onto the back of her skirt so they wouldn’t get separated.
 
He was desperate to get out of the ballroom.
 
Not being much of a drinker, the champagne was fizzing his bloodstream.
 
He suddenly loved this waitress.
 
She reminded him a little of
Shannon
.
 
With clothes on, of course.
 
She smelled differently too.
 
She wasn’t really like
Shannon
at all.
 
Poor thing.
 
He wanted to hug her and tell her that she was still pretty anyway.
 
That made him laugh as he watched her shoulder blades move above the skimpy uniform top.
 
He was drunk.
 
Good.
 
Maybe he would get some sleep now.
 
First he had to call Antonio.
 
He felt much better.
 
Suddenly everything was fine.
 
Champagne
was fine.
 
He now knew why everybody else drinking champagne seemed so fine.
 
His new best friend led him over to a corner of the ballroom and a swinging door.
 
He followed her into a pantry with stainless steel tables bolted to the walls, glass-fronted refrigerators, and plastic barrels full of spent champagne and beer bottles.
 
There were other cocktail waitresses in here.
 
One who had her foot on a chair, skirt hiked up, adjusted her pantyhose.
 
Another chatted on a cell phone.
 
One poured champagne into flutes arranged on a tray.
 
The girl he had followed in put her empty flutes into a bin and yawned.

“Hi,” said Max, to all of them.

The pantyhose girl tugged down her skirt and stood up.
 
The cell phone girl closed her phone and hid it behind her back.
 
The champagne girl stopped pouring.
 
The other girl turned around, empty tray poised on her fingertips.
 
As one, all their smiles clicked on.

“Oh hi!”
 
The champagne girl raised her eyebrows.
 
“What can we do for you?”

Max spied a house phone on the wall next to the sink.
 
“Can I use the phone?”

“Okay,” said the waitress, still smiling, but throwing in a nod.
 
“You go back out the door and right around the corner.
 
Follow the wall to the ballroom pre-function area.
 
There’s a house phone right by the restrooms.”

Max pointed to the pantry phone.
 
“Can’t I use that one?
 
I just have to call the butler pantry.”

“Oh!”
 
The girl with the empty tray nudged her friend with her elbow.
 
“He’s a butler.”

The champagne girl said, “Ah-ha.
 
You should have your nametag on, you know.”

Max inspected his tuxedo lapels.
 
Where the hell was his nametag?
 
“Sorry.
 
I’m new.”
 
Wait a minute.
 
What the hell was he talking about?
 
“Can I have a water?”

The waitress opened a refrigerator and removed a bottled water.
 
“I’m Jennifer.
 
This is Rachel.
 
Susie.
 
And that’s
Shannon
.”

“Huh?”

The cell phone girl waved.
 
“
Shannon
.
 
Like the actress.
 
She’s here you know.”

Max gulped his water.

“She is so beautiful,” said Rachel.
 
Or maybe it was Susie.
 
“Hey!
 
Have you seen her?
 
She’s staying up in the villas, right?”

Max spilled some water on his shirt front.
 
“Sorry.
 
We’re not allowed to talk about it.”

Susie or Jennifer dabbed at the water with a napkin.
 
“What’s your name?”

“Max.”

“Hi Max.”

“Hi.”

“You can use our phone.
 
Since you’re one of us.”

“Okay.
 
Thanks.
 
I appreciate it.”

“You smell like champagne.
 
You should have that jacket cleaned.”

Suddenly his jacket was yanked off his arms.
 
“Let me work on it while you’re on the phone,” said one of them.
 
Another said, “Cool cufflinks!
 
Pow, pow!”

The waitresses huddled around his jacket with napkins while one of them ran water in the sink and another rifled through her purse.

Max stared at the phone for a moment.
 
It had a lot of buttons.
 
He took a few deep breaths.

“Dial zero for in the in-house operator.
 
She’ll put you through.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“I’m going to spritz this with vanilla.
 
Do you like vanilla?”

Max concentrated on the buttons.
 
Found zero.
 
A voice said into his ear, “This is your Native Sun Casino operator.
 
How may I direct your call on this lucky day?”

“The butler pantry?”

“Of course.
 
Is there anything else I can do for you sir?”

“No.”

“Please hold while I transfer your call.
 
Have a wonderful time in the Sun.”

“Thanks,” he said, but the call was already ringing through.
 
It was picked up promptly.

A voice he didn’t recognize:
 
“Good evening, this is the Rick.
 
How may I assist you?”

“Rick?”

“Hello.
 
May I ask who’s calling?”

“Rick who?”

“Hello Mr. Rickoo.
 
How may I help you?”

“What?
 
No.
 
Is this the butler pantry?”

“Yes, Mr. Rickoo.
 
This is Rick, the evening butler.”

“Oh.
 
Okay.”
 
He’d never known there was a butler named Rick.
 
“Is Antonio there?”

“No, I’m sorry, but I would be more than happy to help you Mr. Rickoo.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Is Antonio in the Sachem Suite, maybe?”

“No, sir.”

“Have I gotten any calls from the Sachem Suite?”

There was a brief pause.
 
“To whom am I speaking, again?’

“Max.”

“Max Rickoo?”

“Stop that.
 
That isn’t my name.
 
You
said that was my name.”

Another pause.
 
“Perhaps you should tell me your full name, sir.”

“Max
Allen
.
 
I’m looking for Antonio.”

“Max Allen from the corner suite?
 
My sincere apologies, Mr. Allen.
 
Antonio isn’t here at the moment, but I can reach him on his cell phone if you’d like me to have him call you.”

“Uhm.
 
Okay.”

“Should I have him call you in the ballroom pantry?”

“Oh, I guess not.”