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If people wrote me letters they'd say, "rx, quit with this poetry shit. We don't even know what you're talking about. We want gambling stories. Stay in your lane."
*****
One night, while scouting the Las Vegas Hilton, I see him sitting at the bar playing video poker. I haven’t seen him since he quit his job at the Monte Carlo. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I want to thank him for changing my life. My mom encouraged me to be a card counter, but he gave me the idea of gambling as a profession. I approach him. He instantly smiles.
“Hi,” I say.
“Well hi,” he says, beaming.
“Do you remember me?”
“No. Should I?”
“I used to work with you at the Monte Carlo. You quit your job to play blackjack and poker.”
“You’re not working?” he says.
It takes a few seconds before I realize he thinks I’m a hooker. Who else would approach him like I just approached him? It’s one-o-clock in the morning at the fucking Las Vegas Hilton.
I’m dejected but I continue…
“I play blackjack for a living now, too. I got the idea from you!”
I’m so excited to tell him this. It's out of character but I want him to know.
“There aren’t any good games anymore,” he says.
Now, I’m crushed.
He doesn't think there are good games. My team is already pulling in a million dollars this year.
He asks for my number. I don’t want to give it to him. But he changed my life.
I give him my number, hoping he never calls.
