Friday, August 8, 2014
Flash Fiction Friday: The High Roller
He threw the dice down the craps table.
"Seven!" the stickman called out. He added more chips to Jason's pile.
Jason smiled and held out his hand indicating he intended to keep shooting. The red dice with the white pips were pushed back to him by the stickman. "Let it ride!" he exclaimed, picking up the dice.
"Baby needs a new pair of shoes," he said, trying to be funny as he shook the dice in his hand. The incredible blonde to his left laughed as if it were the funniest thing she'd ever heard. He didn't know where she came from. When he started winning and winning big, she just seemed to slink in by his side, touching his left hand whenever she could.
He tossed the dice again.
"Seven," the stickman said and more chips were added to his pile.
"Cash me out," Jason said, looking at the pile of chips. A quick estimate was that there was close to a hundred thousand in that pile.
He handed one of the blue chips to the stickman as a tip.
"Thank you, sir," the stickman said. Then called out, "New shooter."
Jason stepped away from the table and a casino runner started gathering his chips onto a tray.
"Hey, sweetie," the blonde said, "buy me a drink?"
Jason could almost hear what she was thinking. He was the high roller and she wanted some of that loot. She'd take him for everything she could. He didn't care. Easy come easy go and it'd be very very fun to use her as she planned to use him.
"Sure," he said.
She put her hand in the crook of his arm as he walked toward the cashier cage. The casino's runner would bring the chips.
The cashier counted the chips after they arrived.
"Just a moment, sir," she said. She was about a million years old and desiccated as if she'd been left outside all summer long by a neglectful child.
"Is there a problem?" Jason asked.
The woman didn't answer.
There was a moment when he felt the blonde almost seem to withdraw. If he didn't have the money she wasn't interested.
An old man walked into the cashier's cage. He leaned heavily on a cane and his back was curved like a integer sign.
"What is it, Miss Parker?" he asked the cashier.
"I don't have this much cash," she said, indicating the pile of chips.
The blonde started clinging again. She was nuzzling his neck.
The old man looked at Jason. "We need to do this in the back. If you'll go to the red door to the right, sir."
"Of course," Jason said with a smile.
The runner picked up the chips and followed the old man who disappeared through a door behind the cashier's station.
Jason went to the red door, the blonde still on his arm, she was touching his hand with her free hand.
Jason opened the door and the old man was standing there.
"The girl will have to wait outside," the man said.
Jason smiled at her apologetically and she nodded her understanding.
Jason walked in, nearly tripping in the low gravity. As the door closed he noticed it sealed tight as most doors did here, compartmentalizing sections of the casino.
A big man grabbed Jason from behind.
"Now," the old man said as the gorilla in a suit held Jason. "You Earthers think you can come to our little Moon casino and cheat. I only want to know one thing before I throw you out an airlock."
"I didn't cheat," Jason said. He noticed the room had an airlock and that there were windows overlooking the sparse, gray lunar plain.
"Right," the man replied. "And I’m Neil Armstrong."
"So tell me," the man said, "How did you do it?"
Jason smiled. "I'm a demon."
The man snorted.
"No," Jason said, "It's true. Been living on Earth for about 50,000 years. But Earth is old, all the magic is gone, my powers are weak there. Here on the Moon, I can do whatever I feel."
"Oh really, Mr. Demon?" the old man scowled.
"Yes," Jason said.
And the room filled with fire, both men screaming in agony as the flames consumed them.
But the hot fire increased the air pressure in the room to the point that one of the windows exploded outward, and the room decompressed.
Jason died trying to breathe vacuum.