pail of free coins in the other, and looked like she was walking a tightrope. Bo went to a slot machine in the corner called Big Bertha. It stood six feet high, and had a million dollar jackpot as its grand prize.
“This one,” he declared. “Make sure you bet the maximum amount of coins.”
“Why’s that?” Karen asked.
“Because it won’t pay a jackpot if you don’t,” Bronco said, coming up behind them.
Karen turned and stared, not recognizing him. Bronco could not enter a casino without drastically altering his appearance, and his face had taken on dozens of wrinkles since Karen had last seen him.
“It’s me,” he said under his breath. “You kids ready?”
“Bronco?” Karen whispered. “Is that really you?”
“Yeah. Don’t use my real name, okay?”
“Sorry. How did you get so old?”
“Practice, baby.”
Bo put his arm around his bride. “We’re ready.”
“Good,” Bronco said. “Let’s make some money.”
Karen dug five quarters out of her pail and fed them into Big Bertha. She wasn’t very tall, and as she got on her tip-toes to grab the machine’s giant handle, her wedding dress billowed out, allowing Bronco to duck between her and the machine.
“No funny stuff,” she whispered.
Bronco pressed his body against Big Bertha. He never mixed business with pleasure, but with Karen, he might make an exception. Taking a skeleton key from his pocket, he unlocked the machine. One of his great gifts was the photographic ability of his brain: If he saw a key hanging on someone’s belt, his mind would make a mental picture, and he’d later duplicate the key with special equipment he carried in the trunk of his car. He’d opened dozens of slot machines this way, and never been caught.
Taking a small but powerful earth magnet from his pocket, he stuck it against the side of the machine to pacify it’s internal anti-cheating device. Then, he pulled open the door, reached up into the guts of the machine, and carefully lined up the reels to show five cherries. The machine instantly registered that a jackpot had been won, and bells as loud as a five-alarm fire went off. His heart started to race.
Closing the machine, he slipped the magnet and skeleton key into his pocket, then stepped away from Karen’s billowing dress and glanced into her eyes.
“Now the fun starts,” he said.
Bronco walked away from Big Bertha, then turned around to watch the scene unfold. Big Bertha’s bells were still ringing, and several employees were hurrying over to where Bo and Karen stood. Winning a million-dollar jackpot was like something out of a dream, and Karen played her part to the hilt. Dropping her pail of quarters on the floor, she jumped up and down and screamed with delight.
“You see,” Bo said over the clamor. “Virgin luck.”
Karen slapped her husband on the behind. A mob of patrons had assembled around her, and an elderly woman with blue hair stepped forward.
“Can I ask you a favor?” the woman asked.
“What’s that?” Karen said.
“Can I touch you?”
“You want to touch me?”
“For luck,” the woman explained.
Karen let the elderly woman touch her sleeve. Others in the crowd stepped forward and did the same thing. There was something about her wedding dress that made the event seem nothing short of magical.
Soon, a half-dozen casino employees were hovering around the newlyweds. One had a camera, and took Karen and Bo’s picture in front of Big Bertha. Another had a clipboard, and helped Karen fill out the necessary paperwork for the Internal Revenue Service so Karen could claim her jackpot. While this was happening, Big Bertha’s bells continued to ring, the casino happy to let its customers know that every once in a while, people did go home winners.
That afternoon, Bronco followed Bo and Karen around the casino. Everywhere they went, someone wanted to shake Karen’s hand, or get their picture taken with her. The attention seemed to bother her, and her beautiful face turned into a deep frown.
They went to the craps pit. Bo was playing on a line of credit that the casino had extended him, the casino people their new best friends.
“I want to go home,” she said loudly.
“We still have to collect the jackpot money,” Bo said.
“Can’t they send it to us?”
An apprehensive look crossed Bo’s face, and he pulled her aside and lowered his voice. “It will look suspicious. We need to stay and collect the million dollars.”
“But, I want to go home,” Karen said.
Bo glanced nervously at Bronco, who stood a few feet away. “Come on, honey. Just one more day. That’s all I’m asking.”
Karen glanced Bronco’s way as well. Her attitude had changed dramatically, the reality of what she’d done slowly settling in. She spoke in a hushed voice to her husband. Bronco couldn’t read lips, yet knew exactly what Karen was saying. She was living a lie, and wanted it to end. And Bo was trying to pacify her, knowing damn well there was nothing he could do about it.
Bronco stayed at a seedy motel down the road from the Cal Neva. The next morning he rose early, and spent thirty minutes putting fingernail polish on his face. When it dried, dozens of wrinkles appeared, making him look like an old man.
He drove to the Cal Neva, and had breakfast in the coffee shop. He chose a table that let him eat and watch the elevator banks at the same time. At nine, Bo and Karen came downstairs and went to the registration desk. The casino’s GM greeted them, then took them to his office and shut the door. Although Bronco had never been present when a jackpot was paid, he knew the procedure. The GM would make Karen sign some papers, and give her the money in a cheap briefcase. The GM would also ask them if they’d like an armed escort to take the money to their car. Then he’d shake hands, and invite them back to his casino the next time they were in town.
At nine-twenty, Bo and Karen left the GM’s office, and disappeared into an elevator. Bronco paid for his breakfast and walked out of the coffee shop. Normally, he would have met up with the Farmers at another location, and cut up the money. But last night’s conversation had bothered him. People who got scared did stupid things. He went to the house phone and called their suite.
“It’s me. Which suite you in?” Bronco asked
“Number four oh four,” Bo said.
“I’ll be right up.”
A minute later Karen showed him into the suite. As she shut the door, Bronco glanced into her eyes.
“You mind my asking you a question?” Karen asked.
“Shoot.”
“How did you get all those wrinkles?”
Bronco looked up at her. “I spread fingernail polish mask on my face, let it dry, then scrunched my face around until it looks like wrinkles.”
“You know all the angles, don’t you,” Karen said.
Bronco finished stacking the money and stood up. There were six stacks of one hundred thousand each, with ten grand on the side. With his foot he pushed two of the one hundred thousand stacks toward Bo, then began stuffing the rest into the briefcase. When Bo did not object, Karen let out a shriek.
