A New Perspective
The old lady was a ghost in plain sight. From the bar, she had just looked like another gambler with a fever for the slots. But up close, from the cold distance of a few feet away, I could see the truth. She wasn’t playing. She was working.
She was bent over an ancient slot machine, its lights flashing like a desperate cry. In her hands was a small, worn notepad, and with a pencil stub, she was writing. Her eyes, magnified by a thick pair of glasses, darted from the the blackjack table to the notepad. Her hand moved in a quick, practiced rhythm, writing down the value of each card as it was dealt. She wasn’t playing the slots. She was a human computer, a walking, breathing cheat sheet for a game she wasn’t even in.
The truth hit me with the force of a lead pipe. The “lucky” player at the blackjack table wasn’t lucky at all. He had a human crib sheet. And my eye moved to a new part of the grift.
I watched as the old lady finished her notes, tore off the piece of paper, and folded it into a small, neat square. She then rose, and began walking toward Lola.
The Second Hand
The casino floor was a sea of bodies, a blur of motion and noise. The old lady and Lola met in the center of the crowd, a seemingly random collision. In the blink of an eye, the old lady brushed past the Busty Bunny, and the folded note was gone from her hand and into Lola’s. Lola didn’t even flinch. It was a practiced move, a silent ballet of deception.
I watched Lola walk to the blackjack table, her movements as graceful and deadly as a cobra’s. She walked up to the lucky player, a man with a sneer I knew all too well, and handed him a fresh drink. As she did, she brushed her hand against his, and the folded paper was gone. The grift was in motion.
I went back to the bar and sat down next to Jamie, who was staring into his empty glass. “It’s not just a grift, Jamie,” I said, my voice low. “It’s a two-person operation. The old lady and Lola are a team.”
“And the lucky player?” Jamie asked, his eyes still on his glass.
“He’s the face of the grift,” I said, “The one that takes the fall if it goes wrong. But he’s not alone. He’s got two women helping him. And we’ve got them.” I stood up, leaving a twenty on the bar. “Now let’s go get them.”
