I couldn’t believe that after four hours of me watching him, this guy was still at the same damn blackjack table. Any halfway-decent gambler knows that the only time you stay at the same table for an extended period of time is if you’re hitting. Even then, you have to know when to walk away, when your luck is going to run out. I mean, had this guy never heard the Kenny Rogers anthem of all anthems about gambling? He was losing so bad it took everything in me not to go snatch his ass up from that table and say, “Enough already!”
Babysitting grown-ass men was not for me. Orlando, on the other hand, seemed used to this type of thing. He threw back a couple drinks while we waited. Hell, he even won a few bucks at the craps table. I was too focused. I didn’t want to mess up and lose this guy. Trying to pick up someone’s scent in a casino if we lost him wouldn’t be easy. Then again, as shitty a gambler as this guy was, then perhaps not. He hadn’t moved a muscle all night.
“Looks like our guy is about to move,” Orlando said.
“About time,” I said. “What are we going to do, stop him in the parking lot? Wait for him to get to his car?”
“No, he’s not going to his car.”
I nodded. “Finally deciding to change tables, huh?”
“No, bathroom break.”
The gentleman stood, scooped up his chips, mumbled something to the dealer, and then walked away.
“Come on,” Orlando said as we began following him. The guy dropped his chips into his pants pocket as he headed under a sign that read RESTROOMS.
Orlando shot me an I told you so look.
“How’d you know?”
“Son of a bitch drank three beers and had two shots. Weren’t you counting?” Orlando chuckled. “I knew it was only a matter of time before nature called. Good sense and willpower might not have gotten his ass up from that table, but a full bladder will do the trick every time.”
Orlando had a point there. I just couldn’t believe he’d counted how many drinks this guy had.
We watched our mark enter the bathroom.
“You go in and make sure everyone who is already in there comes out,” Orlando said. “Keep the dude in there until it’s the two of you. Make small talk with him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ask to borrow a cigarette or something. I don’t know. Just keep him in there. I’ll wait out here to make sure nobody else comes in. Let me know when it’s just you and him. Got that?”
“Got it,” I said.
As I opened the men’s bathroom door, one man was exiting. Inside, there was one guy at the sink, and our mark was already at a urinal, handling his business. All the stall doors were open, so I knew we were the only three people in there. I walked over to the sink and began washing my hands, messing around in the water until the other guy at the sink left. Then I went to the door.
“All clear,” I told Orlando.
Orlando followed me back into the bathroom, locking the door behind us. Ol’ boy was at the sink now. He finished washing, dried his hands, and then turned to exit, only to notice that Orlando and I were blocking his path.
Let me be the first to admit that I was a little nervous about all this, but I trusted Orlando. This may have been my first time at the rodeo, but I was sure that Orlando had roped many bulls in his day.
“Excuse me, fellas,” he said.
“In a minute,” Orlando told him. “We need to holler at you first.” He spoke with authority so it was clear that it wasn’t a request but an order. Dude looked from Orlando to me, then back to Orlando. He was a big guy, but I still don’t think he liked the odds.
He puffed out his chest. “Pssht. Who the hell you think you are? You can’t come in here and just—”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want when it comes to you,” Orlando shot back.
He took a deep breath like he was preparing for battle. “Oh, can you?”
“Damn right I can.” Orlando took a step closer. “You do know a man by the name of Juan Carlo Smith, don’t you?”
This guy looked like he’d just shit his pants. The blood drained from his face. Still, he tried to play hard, like he wasn’t scared.
He looked Orlando up and down. “I don’t know you guys. Is this some kind of joke?” He stepped forward as if he was going to walk between Orlando and me.
Orlando closed the space between us. “You don’t know who we are? Well, you better take the time to know us, because we’re the people who just bought your three hundred thousand–dollar gambling debt.”
The guy looked oddly relieved and a little confused at the same time. “I don’t have to pay Juan Carlo anymore?”
“Nope, your debt to him is paid, so you can leave that blackjack table you’ve been at all night and go home and get some rest. And just so you know, Juan Carlo Smith was ready to put you in a body bag. I’m not quite at that point yet but I do want my money.”
That made him uneasy. He broke out in a sweat. “Look, I’m gonna get you your money. I just need a little time.”
“Good, ’cause I’ve come up with some pretty favorable repayment terms,” Orlando said in a nonchalant tone. “And in the meantime, I need you to do me a little favor. You don’t mind doing me a favor, do you?”
“What exactly do you need?” the guy asked warily.
This is when I stepped in. “All you have to do is tell the truth.”
“The truth? About what?”
I took a step toward him and looked him dead in the eyes. “It’s simple, DJ. You just need to tell the truth about Ashlee and how she set up my friend, Jay Crawford, the same way she set you up.”