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Chapter 4: What Happens in Vegas...
 By Jim Caple |
Previously at 24 College Avenue: State College junior Josh Williams and his girl friend from Prague, Magdalena, have taken summer jobs with “America in an SUV,’’ leading tour groups to some of the country’s most important historic and cultural sites. Josh was nearly arrested at Wrigley Field when he threw a home run ball back onto the field and accidentally hit The Asterisk, the controversial slugger who is closing in on the career home run record and being hounded by the media, including photographer Steve Hamilton, who has a summer job with the New York paparazzi. . . . Kenan Hill is a linebacker for the State College football team. John Higgins is a vice-president at Athena athletics and lived at 24 College Avenue for a year while researching marketing demographics. . . .
“Excuse me, Mr. Josh, but maybe we will be stopping at Area 51 to visit the secret lab where your government keeps Elvis, the Kennedy brothers and Princess Diana?’’
The question, naturally, was posed by Kobe, the Japanese student who had been peppering Josh and Magdalena with insane comments the entire trip. The CIA hired Colonel Sanders to kill Martin Luther King, Jr. The Statue of Liberty’s torch is a beacon guiding alien spaceships to their landing zones at the old World’s Fair site. Starbuck’s coffee contains a chemical that is slowly turning people into mindless drones. Fidel Castro secretly rules America and plans to invade Canada if the exchange rate gets any worse. At first, Josh and Magdalena had laughed because they assumed he was joking. But after a few days it became clear that Kobe really did believe such things. It was if his entire knowledge of the U.S. had been learned by watching badly dubbed episodes of “The X-Files’’ and “24.’’
“No, Kobe,’’ Josh said. “We drove past Area 51 while you were sleeping. We were going to stop but the Moose out front said it’s closed for remodeling.’’
Kobe nodded as if this made perfect sense and Josh smiled at Magdalena. She looked puzzled, not understanding the movie reference. At times like this, Josh wished he was dating someone who grew up in America, or at least had watched more American movies.
Actually, Josh somewhat wished that he was dating someone else anyway. Or at least, not dating anyone exclusively. The slender French brunette in the tour group, Analise, kept flirting with Josh, and he desperately wanted to see whether she was merely flirting or was serious about her interest. Unfortunately, Magdalena was very much aware of Analise’s flirting and never allowed Josh alone with her for a minute. Perhaps, he thought, I’ll be able to break away while we’re in Vegas.
Normally the “America in an SUV’’ tour stayed in spartan lodgings, the sort of motels that still advertised “Color TV’’ on their marquees. But to get the full Vegas experience, the group was staying in the new Athena Sports City casino, where guests could choose from sprawling suites dedicated to particular sports. The rooms ranged from the Roundball Suite with a full-size basketball court ($25,000 per night) to the Gridiron Suite with a football field, goal posts, locker room and chain gang in lingerie ($100,000 per night). “America in an SUV’’ couldn’t afford anything close to that, but Higgins was able to get Josh a cut-rate deal on the seldom-booked Playground Suite, which included a jungle gym, tether-ball nets and dodgeball for just $1,000. That still was steep but divided among the 24 tourists, it was affordable.
“Look, there is City of Sports, yes?’’ Magdalena said, pointing to the casino with the 30-story hotel in the shape of the Athena logo.
“Sports City, Magadalena, Sports City,’’ Josh said. “But yeah, that’s it.’’
After checking in, the tour group spread out around the casino. Josh immediately headed for the sports book where he planned to bet on State College winning every national championship on the board. As he walked across the main floor, he came across conventioneers with an insurance company, at least a dozen bettors sitting at the slot machines with their oxygen tanks, obese women pushing baby strollers and more fat men in unflattering ensembles of baseball caps, t-shirts and shorts than he could count. It was as if they had evacuated West Virginia. Josh dreaded hearing what Magdalena would say about it,
He found the sports book and was overwhelmed by the options. In addition to betting on the various championships and specific games, he could also bet on what day The Asterisk would break the home run record. You could even bet that he wouldn’t break the record, which seemed like a very bad bet. While he Asterisk was banged up from that crash with the paparazzi, he only needed three more home runs to tie the record.
“Who would bet against The Asterisk at this point?’’ Josh said loud enough for the man next to him to hear.
The man was about 5-6 and 280 pounds. He wore a Cleveland Browns replica jersey, baggy jeans and, for some reason, wraparound sunglasses. “Don’t be a sap,’’ he said to Josh. “It’s fixed. The conglomerate that secretly runs all the casino betting lines and the Department of Defense are going to have The Asterisk killed before he breaks the record. They’ve got hundreds of millions on the line.’’
Good lord, Josh thought. Do I have a sign on my back that reads, “If you’re insane, come talk to me?’’
“Yeah, right,’’ he said to the man and filled out his slip for the bet. He wrote in the date when the tour group was due to attend another of The Asterisk’s games. Then he bet $10 on the Red Devils to win the national championship in football, basketball, hockey, volleyball and baseball. He was about to leave when he remembered how Kenan had joked before the trip that Josh should put “$20 on the Devils to win the national championship for me.’’ Josh wasn’t sure whether Kenan was joking or not, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to do so just in case. He filled out another betting slip, paid for it and walked over to the bar to watch a game.
“I see you are not with your wife,’’ a woman called to him.
It was Analise, sitting seductively at a bar.
“My wife?’’ Josh asked. “Oh, you mean Magdalena. Yeah, she’s not here. I don’t think casinos are her thing. Too much decadent capitalism.’’
Analise got up and crossed over to the stool next to Josh. She leaned over the bat to get the bartender’s attention. As she stood up on her toes, Josh stared at the tattoo of a gargoyle peeking out from the waistband of her very low-cut Capri pants. “Do you know what a Mojito is?’’ she asked the bartender. “I would like a Mojito.’’ She turned to Josh. “Would you like a Mojito?’’ Josh nodded. He didn’t know what a Mojito was, but she could have offered him a cup of mayonnaise and he would have accepted.
“To the best tour guide in America,’’ Analise said when they had been served. She and Josh clinked glasses. Josh blushed. “Your country is so large. So wonderful. I think I like it very much.’’ She sipped from her Mojito. “I think I like you very much.’’
Josh couldn’t figure it out. Analise did some modeling when she was back in France, and she was clearly out of his league. But he was just learning a couple basic rules of attraction. If a person was dating someone, that automatically made he or she more desirable to someone unattached. And anyone in a position of authority – even if it was no more authority than leading a tour – gained several additional points.
“You and Magdalena,’’ Analise went on. “Are you allowed to see other people?’’
“I don’t know,’’ Josh started. “I mean, we haven’t really discussed it. I mean, I guess so. We aren’t engaged or anything.’’
He felt bad about saying it but not that bad. The truth was, he was beginning to feel a little suffocated with Magdalena. He still liked her a lot but being around her 24/7 was taking the bloom off the romance. It felt as if they had already been married for years.
“I think you should buy me another drink,’’ Analise said, finishing off her Mojito.
Several hours and many drinks later, Analise indicated it was time to go to their suite. She took Josh by the left hand and led him to the bank of elevators. She pushed the button and as they waited for the elevator, she planted her lips against Josh’s and grabbed his rear with her right hand. Josh kissed her back, twirling his tongue around hers.
Josh was wondering just how private the beds were in the Playground Suite when the elevator door slid open and Kobe rushed out. When he saw Josh, he grabbed him by the shirt and began pulling.
“Mr. Josh – I have been looking all over for you! Come quick!’’
“Can this wait, Kobe?’’ Josh asked. He really wasn’t in the mood for Kobe’s stories.
“No, you must come now!’’
“Why? What is it?’’
“It is Ms. Magdalena! She has gambled away all our money!’’
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Jill barely drove a block from the gym when she saw the red and blue flashing lights of a police van behind her. She instinctively glanced down at the SUV’s speedometer to check whether she was speeding. She wasn’t. She assumed the police were after someone else and continued driving. This was a mistake. The police car responded by speeding up behind Jill and bumping her vehicle’s rear end. She looked in the rear view mirror and saw two robed officers angrily gesturing at her to pull over.
She did so and parked the car alongside an International House of Hummus. “What is about?’’ asked Camilia, the team’s Slavic center who was built like a Texaco gas pump.
“I don’t know, but they look pissed,’’ Jill said, fumbling for her license and passport while unrolling the window.
The officers got out of their car, walked up to the SUV and positioned themselves at each door. “Get out!’’ the lead officer ordered Jill.
“What is all this about?’’ Jill asked.
“Get out now,’’ the officer said again. He did not sound like he wanted to tell them a third time.
The three players did so and were immediately shoved away from the SUV by the officers.
“Hey, watch it,’’ Chardonnay said. “We’re personal guests of the Prince. We’re members of the Mubai Olympic team.’’
“You think we care?’’ the bearded lead officer said, slapping a cane against his thigh, itching for a chance to use it. “His Most Serene Highness’’ – he said this with disdain – “should be ashamed for allowing you into the country. Look at the offensive manner in which you dress. Have you no sense of decency?’’
Chardonnay looked at Jill and Camilia. They were just wearing their usual workout gear – tank tops and baggy shorts to mid-shin. Not conventional clothing for a Muslim country perhaps, but Mubai was the most liberal, open and Western nation in the Middle East. Expat women were allowed to show their legs here, though it wasn’t officially encouraged. And it wasn’t like they were out in public. They had gone directly from the gym to the SUV and wouldn’t get out again until they drove inside the compound where they were staying as the Prince’s guests.
“And you,’’ the lead officer said to Jill. “Why were you driving? Women are not allowed to drive.’’
“Since when?’’
“Don’t be impertinent,’’ the officer said, raising his cane before thinking better. It was best, he thought, not to push too much with one of the Prince’s harem. “But because you clearly are an ignorant American I will inform you. The mullahs grew tired of the Prince’s offensive Western ways and reasserted their rule over the weekend.’’
“You have to be kidding,’’ Jill protested. “We’re not allowed to drive? How are we supposed to get to and from practice?’’
“He may drive you,’’ the officer said, pointing his cane to Camilia.
“I am not a he,’’ Camilia said, greatly offended. “I am a she.’’
The officers studied Camilia’s broad shoulders, wide rear and thick, fire hydrant-like legs. They noticed the hair on her lip, the thick brows above her eyes and the closely cropped hair. They looked at each other and shrugged.
“Our apologies,’’ the officer said. “Then all three of you will be arrested for appearing in public without a proper male escort. Get in the van and we will tow your vehicle to our headquarters.’’
“Arrested?’’ Jill complained. “Arrested for what?’’
“For violating the code prohibiting female drivers. Violation of the laws prohibiting females from appearing in public without a male chaperone. Violation of the clothing laws requiring that your bodies be covered from head to foot. And I am sure there are many more. Now, get in the back of the van.’’
Jill, Chardonnay and Camilia just looked at each other, wondering whether this was some elaborate prank. Then they looked around and noticed that, unlike every previous day, all the women on the street were dressed in black abayas that completely covered their bodies. What had happened while they had been out of town for a week-long road trip to Greece and Turkey?
“I said get in the van,’’ the office said, raising his cane again. “I will not say it again.’’
The three teammates did as they were told and the officers slammed the doors shut behind them.
-----
Depending on how you counted, Magdalena could speak five or six languages – her native Czech, along with German, Polish, English and Russian, plus a smattering of French. She held a degree in history from Charles University in Prague and was just about to begin graduate school. She was physically fit – she skied cross-country for her school – politically active, good-humored and caring. She really had only one drawback. She liked to gamble too much.
She was able to control herself for the most part – her studies and old job with the Prague tourism center kept her too busy and too poor – but when the “America in an SUV’’ tour hit the Las Vegas strip Magdalena reacted like a starving man let loose in an In’n’Out burger franchise. She began with a quick sweep through the slots at Athena’s Sports City, then hit the blackjack tables. Through a great deal of luck and a very little bit of skill she quickly accumulated a bankroll large enough to buy into the casino’s First Annual Celebrity Pro-Am World Tour de Poker Bowl Series Finals Classic.
Magdalena was placed at a table including Ozzie Canseco, Rip Taylor, one of the Baldwin brothers, Tonya Harding and a former member of the Brady Bunch. She was knocked out quickly when she went all-in with three kings and former United Nations Secretary General Boutros Boutros-Ghali caught a full house on the river.
Desperate to continue gambling, Magdalena dipped into the tour group’s travel bank. She first took out only a quarter of the total, fully intending to return it when she doubled her money at the blackjack table. When she lost all that money, she went back and took the rest. She had just lost all that as well, and was contemplating how an attractive young woman could raise some quick money in Las Vegas, when Josh found her on her knees searching around slot machines for loose coins.
“Magdalena,’’ he said. “What are you doing?’’
She got up from her knees and burst into tears.
“Oh, Josh,’’ she sobbed, falling into his arms. “I am so sorry, very sorry! I have ruined everything! I bet away all our money! You will be fired! I will be deported! Or worse, sent to your Guantanamo! Is so horrible!’’
“It’s OK, sweetie, everything is going to be OK,’’ Josh lied, hugging Magdalena tight to his body. She had been getting on his nerves for a couple weeks and just this evening he had almost slept with another girl, but he was overwhelmed with emotion when he saw her in pain. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and started walking her to the elevator. “We’ll go up to the suite and figure something out.’’
When they got to the suite, however, Josh’s key card didn’t work. “That’s weird,’’ he said. “How come my key doesn’t work?’’
Magdalena burst into tears again. “Because I max out company credit card to gamble. They kick us out because I went over limit!’’
This, Josh had to admit, was bad, very bad. The entire tour group was supposed to spend the night in the spacious suite. But now that was out. It was approaching midnight, they needed to find rooms for the two dozen people on the tour and their funds were all gone. Josh could call the office back at State College and ask for more money but that would surely get him and Magdalena fired – and perhaps jailed. They had no choice but to have everyone sleep in the “SUV’’ (actually a converted army troop carrier) while they drove through the night to their next destination, the Happiest Place on Earth. The group was used to sleeping in the vehicle from time to time to save money so it wasn’t that big a deal for another night. But there was still a week left in the tour. How would they survive?
Josh opened up his wallet to see how much money he had left when he noticed the betting slips from the casino’s sports book. It wasn’t much hope, but it was something. In addition to betting on the Red Devils to win the national championship Josh had placed five bets on what day The Asterisk would break the home run record. He had picked the same date at 20-1 odds each time: the day they were scheduled to watch the game in Los Angeles (thank God the tickets were paid in advance). The odds were so high because The Asterisk had been slumping ever since Josh hit him in the head while throwing a home run ball back onto the field and he needed three home runs in two days -- and one of those days was a travel day from New York. Josh had placed a $20 bet for himself, another one for Magdalena, a third for Steve, who had just been assigned to follow The Asterisk with the paparazzi, a fourth for Jenn, who was working as a mascot for the minor league team where the Asterisk started his career, and a $100 bet for Danny, who was a huge fan of the slugger.
Yes, it was a longshot but the way Josh saw it, it was the only shot he and Magdalena had. With a couple nights in the van, a strict diet of fastfood and a little luck (OK, make that a lot of luck, plus some big time generosity from Steve and Danny), they just might be able to survive.
Josh was just about to explain the plan to Magdalena when he looked up and saw the TVs mounted above the bar. The 24-hour news channels had just broken into their round-the-clock coverage of the missing State College cheerleader for breaking news.
“We have a report,’’ the anchor said, “that The Asterisk was hurt in a crash with paparazzi tonight in New York.’’
Next: Crash Test Dummy
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