The Devil's Game

Chapter 4

The ringing of slot machines, clatter of gaming chips, and chatter of hundreds of people filled the cavernous space of the rooms, punctuated by cheering and applause from the craps tables.

"Michael," Emily said, looking around the large space, her eyes wide, taking in everything around them.

When Michael didn't respond, she glanced at him. "You look pale. Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Was just distracted, sorry. I need to go to the bathroom," Michael said hurriedly. "Why don't you go and have fun—I'll come find you in a bit."

"You sure you're feeling okay?"

"Just a bit tired. I'm fine. See you in a minute." He walked off, Emily staring after him.

Relax, it's just a casino.

He turned on the tap and splashed water on his face, not caring and barely noticing that the collar of his white dress shirt was getting soaked.

"Don't ruin her birthday. Let's go out there and give her the best time of her life," he told himself, wiping his face dry.

He walked past the seemingly endless rows of slot machines, his steps heavy and slow. He saw people feeding one coin after another into the machines, their faces lit up and eyes glazed over by the spinning lights. He saw a waitress giving a cocktail to an older lady, who handed the waitress a $1 chip without looking away from her machine.

He reached the area where the table games were located. Craps, blackjack, poker, and other games surrounded him.

Crowds of people squeezed around the tables, some placing bets while others watched. Michael saw the casually dressed mixing with those in fine attire, all connected by the thrill of gambling and their hopes of winning big.

Despite the crowds, he quickly spotted Emily at the roulette table. She was hard to miss with her long, obsidian-black, curly hair, and lean legs accentuated by the red-soled heels she loved so much.

"There you are," he said, coming up behind her and putting his hands around her waist.

"I won ten dollars." Emily's eyes sparkled and gleamed as she turned around to look at him.

"That's great! But you should stop when you're winning."

"Come on, we're talking about ten dollars, not a thousand," she said, amused by his old-man cautiousness.

Michael conceded. It was her birthday after all.

He looked down at the roulette table.

How can this be dangerous?

"So how does this work?" he asked, though he knew he shouldn't. His curiosity far outweighed the promise to his father, which was now a distant memory.

"You never played roulette before?"

"Nope. Is that bad?"

"No, not at all." She smiled and started explaining. "It's pretty easy. The game has thirty-eight numbers. Double Zero, single zero and the numbers one through thirty-six."

She paused looking at Michael briefly and then continued, "That's the American version. There's also the European version that's missing the double-zero. But that doesn't matter right now," she waved her hand gently. "If you place a chip on one of the numbers and the ball lands on your number, you win thirty-five times your bet. Do you see that the numbers have either a red or black background?"

Michael nodded.

"And there, the spaces with 'Odd' and 'Even' written on them?" She pointed her finger toward the game and continued, "Some people don't like playing numbers. They think they'll have a better chance by playing red or black or odd or even—you can't win that much because you just double your bet but your chances of winning are higher."