CASINOS WATCH YOU.
There are no blind spots, no hidden corners—nothing is left to chance. If you ever want to record a few minutes of your life in complete detail (and from multiple angles), simply walk onto the main floor of a casino.
But Cooper and Veena weren’t feeling that kind of watching.
When casinos watch you, it’s like a mama bird making sure you aren’t trying to run off with one of her chicks. This was a different kind of watching. More like a bird of prey sizing them up for the kill.
“Am I crazy,” Cooper said, “or do you feel all kinds of eyes on us?”
“Oh, good. I thought it was just me.”
“Well, Ben E. did say the Mob was well aware of our activities. I’m sure they’re all wondering why we just checked into Caesars on Monday afternoon.”
“Maybe we just can’t say no to the slots,” Veena said.
“Ben E. would have a crude double entendre to share off that one.”
“And you don’t?”
“I think I’m hungover. Let’s get settled, then go have an early cocktail with Red Doyle.”
“Didn’t you just say you were hungover?”
“No better way to avoid crashing to the ground than by pulling back on the stick.”
“Your best friend Ben E. would have a crude joke about that one too.”
“I think he’s my new hero.” As Cooper spoke, the phone in his jacket pocket vibrated. “Hold on. Got a message from Victor.”
A quick heads-up, boss. I know you’re in AC with Ms. Lion. Just keep your eyes open. I confirmed this with three different sources (including the New Jersey Turnpike Authority): Mickey Bernstein’s in AC too.