CASINO SHUFFLE (8 page)

“Mr. Allen, you’re a class act.”

“You helped me run out my bad luck,” said Max.
 
“Only place to go now is up.”

Antonio cleared his throat.
 
“Actually, you have to come
down
first.”

Max hopped out, landing next to Antonio.
 
Though he was thirty-four, his uncombed hair, dimples, souvenir
Atlantic City
t-shirt and worn blue jeans made the poker player seem younger.
 
To Antonio, however, it was the man’s inexperience with life that gave him a somewhat reckless youthfulness that required such attention and protection.

Antonio outlined their options.
 
“We can wait for the limo to be unloaded from the flatbed and drive back around to the front entrance.
 
Or, perhaps you’d like to walk around to the entrance.
 
I have to warn you the valet port is rather busy just now.”

 
“I just want to get to my room.”
 
Max took in a deep breath.
 
“Where do these stairs go?”

“That’s the truck driver’s entrance to the loading dock.”

“Cool.”

“Max, I know you’re anxious to get inside, but we could walk over to the front entrance…”

“Nah.
 
Look, the door’s open.”

Antonio climbed the steps.
 
“Might I suggest you hold your nose before entering?
 
The break room is directly inside the door.”

“I just came from
Atlantic City
.
 
I can handle a little stink.”
 
Max laughed and gagged all at once.
 
“Wow.
 
This smells like feet and onions.”

“Perhaps you’ll reconsider the front entrance.”

Max pinched his nose.
 
“I’m going to run for it.
 
Cover me.”
 
Rushing headlong into the darkness of the truck driver’s break area, he shouted a battle cry.
 
“Come on Antonio!”

Antonio withdrew his handkerchief, pressed it firmly over his nose and mouth, and stepped forth bravely into the abyss with the full knowledge that this was possibly the most amusement he was going to have all weekend.

Chapter Five

“Home sweet home,” said Max, pulling out his laptop and dropping onto the leather sectional in the sitting area of the Villas corner suite.

Using the universal remote Antonio closed the drapes and began turning on the lights.
 
“I know that we often refer to the casino as the
house
, but I don’t believe it was meant to be taken literally.”

Max was already on-line and typing.
 
“It’s the closest thing I’ve got.
 
Besides, if I had a real house then I wouldn’t get to see you.”

“How empty your life would be.”

Max looked up from the screen.
 
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.
 
I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

Antonio opened the cabinet safe and placed the laptop case within. “Having a home is an essential component of adulthood.
 
I think Trixie would agree with me.”

Max laughed.
 
“She tells me to grow-up, too.”
 
He suddenly swung his legs off the couch, the laptop tumbling to the floor.
 
“Antonio!”

“Yes, Max?”

“What’s the date today?”

“September 5
^th
.”

“What’s the date tomorrow?”

“September 6
^th
.
 
The days run consecutively.”

“So that means that Sunday is Trixie’s birthday.”

“September 7
^th
, yes.”

Max stood up and banged into the glass coffee table.
 
“I have to go shopping.
 
I mean you have to go shopping.
 
We
have to go shopping.”

Antonio withdrew an envelope from his inside jacket pocket.
 
“I have two tickets for
Brandon
’s sold-out show in Twilight tomorrow evening.”
 
He presented them to Max.
 
“With my compliments.”

Max stared at the envelope.
 
“Who’s
Brandon
?”

“Shannon Moon’s boyfriend.”

“Oh!
 
The pop star guy!
 
She’ll love it…come here you big softy.”

Antonio stiffly embraced the poker player and withstood several sharp slaps on the back.
 
“I hate to cut our reunion short, but we have to get you ready for the tournament.”

Max sagged back down to the couch.
 
“The tuxedo.”

“You did mention that you wanted to be like me.”

“But there’s the big hat.”

“Correct.”

He picked up his laptop and began typing.
 
“Let me just finish up this online tournament.
 
It doesn’t have a dress code.
 
In fact I’m pretty sure some of these players are sitting naked somewhere.”

Antonio checked his watch.
 
“Would you like me to prepare you something to eat?”

“No thanks.
 
I had Vinny stop at Burger King.”

Antonio left Max to his on-line poker and walked into the master bedroom to call Sonny.
 
As he dialed he noticed the bathroom light was on, illuminating an arrangement of toiletries on the marble countertop.
 
He hung up.

Max didn’t like the exotic aromas of the high-end soaps and shampoos.
 
They made him sneeze.
 
Antonio touched the over-the-counter products with his fingertips, checking off his mental list of necessities.
 
On the side of the Jacuzzi was a basket of more luxurious products imported from a European spa.
 
These were for Trixie, who enjoyed being pampered when she visited the casino.
 
Antonio saw that a slender box of the newest Belgian truffles was in the basket as well, a special treat he’d ordered for Trixie after reading about them in an industry periodical.
 
He’d left the box sitting in the butler office in anticipation of Max’s arrival.

The efficiency of his staff never ceased to impress him.

In the bedroom Antonio opened the armoire.
 
Inside was the wardrobe kept laundered and pressed for Max, who traveled with nothing but his laptop and whatever clothes he happened to be wearing on his private plane.
 
The drawers were stocked as well, undergarments and socks arranged just so.
 
In the bottom drawer were a few sets of silk pajamas for Trixie.

Antonio unclipped his BlackBerry and sent Sonny an email.

From: Cruz, Antonio

To: Wu, Sonny

Subject: Max Allen Suite

Thank you for not listening to me.
 
The arrangements in the suite are superb.
   
Bravo.

“Holy crap!”

Antonio put away the BlackBerry.
 
“I placed that in the armoire for the express purpose of keeping it from you until the last minute.”

Max was holding the white Stetson.
 
“It’s the size of a Christmas ham!”
 
He hefted it over his head and lowered it into place.
 
His face was cast in shadow.
 
“It’s like my head is being eaten by a giant marshmallow.”

Antonio adjusted the sit of the hat at Max’s hairline, a quarter inch above the ear.
 
“The tournament is a combination of the current fad of poker and the nostalgic past, which marketing assumes is a tuxedo and a cowboy hat.”

“Well thank God it’s not Caribbean Stud.
 
They’d want me bare-chested and smeared in coconut oil.”
 
He sauntered up to the wall mirror.
 
Stopped.
 
Drew down on the cowboy staring back.
 
“I look ridiculous.”
 
He shook his head and winced.
 
“Ouch.
 
I think I pulled a neck muscle.
 
I’m not going.”

Antonio had the tuxedo separated and laid out on the bed.
 
He used a cloth brush to remove the lint.
 
“You’ll want the black stocking socks and black shoes.
 
Both are in the closet.
 
I’ll give the shoes a quick polish before you set off.”

Max walked into the bathroom.
 
The hat brim knocked into the doorjamb and cocked the Stetson sideways.
 
“It’s like trying to drive a big rig.
 
I’m going to hurt somebody.”
 
He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.
 
“I can’t do this.
 
I’m not a big fan of crowds.
 
It’s worse when the crowds are laughing at me.”
 
He turned abruptly, the hat spinning on his head and tipping down over one eye.
 
“Seriously.”

Antonio was standing in the master bedroom holding a small box.

Max eyed it suspiciously.
 
“Are you going to propose?”

“A good luck gift.”

Max lifted off the Stetson and smiled down at the box.
 
“What’s the occasion?”

“Necessity.”

Max took the box.
 
“Not big enough to be a neck brace.”

Antonio waited patiently.

“Okay, okay.”
 
Max pulled up the hinged lid to reveal a pair of sterling silver cufflinks.
 
He looked confused.
 
“They’re shaped like little guns.
 
Oh!
 
My six-shooters!”

“Cuff links were required for the shirt I chose.”

“My rods!
 
My shootin’ irons!”

“I hoped they would help you get into the spirit of the tournament.”

Max peered at the Stetson with a newfound curiosity.
 
“Maybe it won’t be so bad when I’m wearing the tux.
 
Like a wild west James Bond.
 
As long as I can still wear my lucky underwear.”

Antonio consulted his wristwatch.
 
“Perhaps it would be best to get dressed.
 
I’ll leave you to it.”
 
He stepped out of the bedroom and closed the double doors.

“Antonio!”

Antonio turned, grasped the handles and opened the doors again.
 
“Yes, Max?”

He was holding a cufflink outstretched in each hand.
 
“Got the drop on ya!”

“Indeed.”
 
Antonio eased the doors shut.

“Antonio!”

He pushed them open.
 
“Yes, Max?”

“Thanks.
 
I really like them.”