"All nickels?"
"Nickels and dimes," Matt said.
Two small stacks of chips were pushed across the table to him.
****
Matt yawned, and then again.
Jesus, what's the matter with me? I was just going to get something to eat and then crap out. How long have I been doing this?
His watch said that it was quarter to six.
Time to quit.
He watched the ball circle the wheel and then bounce around the slots before finally dropping in one.
Obviously, it is time to quit. I have been betting on 00 every fourth or fifth bet since I have been here, and that's the first time I ever won.
As the croupier counted out chips to place beside the chip he had laid on 00, Matt said, "Quit when you're ahead, I always say."
"You want to cash in, sir?"
"Please," Matt said, and pushed the stacks of chips, nickels, dimes, and quarters in front of him to the croupier.
He wondered where the cashier kept the real money to cash him out. There was no money, no cash box, in sight.
The croupier put all the chips in neat little stacks, and then said "Cash out." A man in a suit who had been hovering around in the background came up behind the croupier, looked, nodded, wrote something on a clipboard, and then smiled at Matt.
The croupier pushed a stack of chips, including some oblong ones Matt hadn't noticed before, across the felt to him.
"What do I do with these?" he wondered aloud.
"Take them to the cashier, sir," the croupier said.
Matt reclaimed his waxed paper bucket, and as he dumped the chips into it, he recalled that the polite thing to do was tip the croupier. He pushed one of the oblong chips across the table to the croupier.
"Thank you very much, sir," the croupier said. It was the first time, Matt noticed, that he had sounded at all friendly.
He walked to the cashier's cage and pushed the waxed paper bucket through what looked like a bank teller's window to a gray-haired, middle-aged woman.
She put all the chips in neat little stacks and then counted to herself, moving her lips. She looked at him.
"Would you like me to draw a check, sir?"
What the hell would I do with a check? I couldn't cash a check out here.
"I'd rather have the cash, if that would be all right."
The gray-haired woman took a stack of bills from a drawer and started counting them out. Matt was surprised to see that the bills were hundred-dollar bills, and then astonished to see how many of them she was counting out into thousand-dollar stacks. When she was finished there were fo
ur one-thousand-dollar stacks, one stack with six hundred-dollar bills in it, and a sixth stack with eighty-five dollars in it, four twenties and a five.
"Four thousand six hundred eighty-five," the gray-haired woman said.
"Thank you very much."
"Thankyou, sir."