I didn’t give up looking for blackjack jobs, and soon enough I found one. It was a worse dive than the Golden Goose, but it was experience. It was called Little Caesar's and was on the strip at the entrance to Vegas. Gambling joints and shady businesses surrounded it. Finally, I met my first friend, Joanne. We both worked the day shift, and we would go for drinks and food after work. Joanne was twenty-one, like me, and she had a two-year-old little girl. She lived in a real bad area of town and had a very jealous boyfriend who didn’t like us going out. She just lied to him about how late she worked. He would watch the baby while she worked. We were friends for a year, and after a while he tolerated our friendship. He didn’t mind as much if we visited at my house, but he didn’t like us going out. Sometimes she would bring the baby, sometimes not. She adored her child, and I liked the baby too. She was always happy. We would sit by the pool on our days off and drink alcoholic beverages. We would cool off in my now furnished apartment and enjoyed each other's company. One day, when she was on the way to my house, she didn’t show up. I just figured her boyfriend wouldn’t let her come because that happened a lot.
I woke up to the phone ringing, and it was her boyfriend. He was pissed. I told him Joanne never came over, and he didn’t believe me. He said they had fought and she stormed out. The following day, her boyfriend arrived with the police. He thought I was lying for Joanne because of their fight. I told them Joanne would never leave her baby overnight. I found out she took off with no shoes and no purse. They later found her car at a 7-Eleven. I never heard from her again. She just disappeared, never to be found. Life was sad at my job without Joanne. They were mean, and the money sucked. While staring at my reflection, two funny words rang in my mind. “Demand respect.” Frankie had taught me a great lesson, and I remember those words to this day. I dyed my hair platinum blonde and hit the pavement with my newfound confidence. I finally landed a job dealing blackjack at the El Morocco on the strip.
The El Morocco supplied nice vests to go with our standard attire of black pants and white shirts. It was a small but tidy casino, and the clientele were tourists rather than Little Caesar's local scum. The winners would become ecstatic and the losers would become angry. I had drinks thrown at me, and one time a guy flicked a cigarette in my face. I learned how to put on a poker face. I worked twenty minutes and would get a twenty minute break.
One time, I was headed to the break room and a giant, overweight high roller was walking in front of me. I could pick his type out of a crowd. He dropped his money clip, and I quickly picked up the hundred-dollar roll surrounded by the gold clip. I was walking fast and I started yelling, “Excuse me! Excuse me! Sir, excuse me.”
He stopped, whirled around to face me and screamed, “What do you want!” I was holding the clip with the money in front of me, shocked at his behavior. His eyes flashed to the clip, he snatched it, then turned and walked away. Lesson learned: think before you become a good guy. After all, I lived in sin city.