"
"I got these complimentary dollars," Oliver said, "when I checked in."
"Over there." The cashier pointed to a barred room within the main
room. "Promotions." Oliver walked over to Promotions.
"Could I exchange these for chips, please?" A man with a neat mustache
swept up the fake coins. He flicked his wrist and thumb. Oliver's chips
fell on the counter in front of him. Oliver counted. "Wasn't there
supposed to be thirty-five?"
"Yeah, man. You short?" Oliver pushed the chips toward him. "Sorry,
man. Mistake," he said, adding a five dollar chip to the pile without
changing expression. Oliver put them in his pocket and walked toward
the crap tables. That was a scam, he thought. Get away with that once
an hour, your pay would go up--a couple of hundred a week.
He straightened as a feeling shot through him. It was like waking up.
It was time. He approached the front craps table and stood with his
arms hanging down and his weight evenly balanced. Fifteen feet away, a
man shifted sideways so that he was directly in front of Oliver. He was
expensively dressed, medium sized with wide shoulders and a dark
angular face. He stared at Oliver. I see you, he was telling Oliver.
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