closet in the house in Henderson. Maybe in his past there had been a family.
Bronco tossed the wallet into Gerry’s lap. He pointed up the road. They were on a deserted stretch except for a convenience store sitting off to the side. Even from the distance Gerry could read the neon Budweiser sign shimmering in the window.
“Here’s the deal,” Bronco said. “You’re going to take your forty bucks, and make it grow.”
“I am?”
“That’s right. Otherwise, I’m going to kill you.”
Bronco quickly explained the scam. The convenience store, like many in Nevada, had a row of slot machines in the back. Bronco had checked the store not long ago, and discovered an old Bally among the machines. The Bally had a unique feature: A player could stick his fingers up the payout chute, and hold the door open. This turned a small payout into a large one. Since the machine paid out a jackpot roughly every thirty pulls, Bronco believed Gerry’s money could be turned into a quick profit.
“I’m going to stand outside, and watch you,” Bronco said. “Do anything stupid, and I’ll come in and shoot you, then rob the place.”
They were sitting in the car, parked outside the store. The midday sun beat down unmercifully on the rental’s windshield. Behind the counter, a teenage girl with braces on her teeth, probably still in highschool.
Gerry said, “What about her?”
“I’ll kill her, too.”
Gerry stuck his hand out. “Give me the money.”
Bronco took the wilted bills off the seat and laid it onto his palm. “The machine probably has a sensor for overpays. If you leave the payout door open too long, the candle will come on, and an alarm inside the machine will go off.”
“The candle?”
“The white light on top of the machine,” Bronco said. “That’s the candle. They start blinking when something’s wrong.”
“How long will it take for the sensor to come on?”
“Ten seconds, more or less.”
“More or less? What if it’s less? What if the alarm goes off?”
“Then I’ll have to kill you,” Bronco said.
Gerry got out of the rental and so did Bronco. Bronco went to the corner of the convenience store, and stood there and smoked his cigarette, one eye on the road, the other looking inside the store. The shotgun hung at his side, hidden from the street and from the girl working the counter. The guy knew all the angles.
Gerry entered the store. As he came in, the girl behind the counter smiled and said hello. Her face had the wonderful freshness of someone on their first job. He handed her his money and asked for change.
“You okay, mister?” she asked.
He looked at himself in the mirror that was directly behind her. He saw his face, which was white, then saw Bronco staring at him while blowing smoke rings. He looked back at the girl. Real young, sixteen if she was a day.
“Fine,” he said. “Quarters please.”
She handed him a plastic bucket filled with quarters. “Play the machine on the very end. It’s been paying off lately.”
Gerry walked to the back of the store. The slot machines hugged the wall, and took up about a fourth of the available floor space. There were probably as many slot machines in convenience stores and bars in Nevada as there were in the casinos. Gerry found the old Bally, and started to feed in a coin.
“No, not that one,” the girl said, hanging over the counter. “The machine on the end.”
Gerry felt sweat march down his back. He tried to ignore her, and the girl came out from behind the counter, and walked over to where he sat. Grabbing him by the arm, she led him to the machine on the end.
“This one. I think the guy who adjusts it screwed up.”
Gerry sat down at the machine. She stood beside him with her arms crossed, and he saw no other choice than to put two quarters into it, and pull the handle. The machine was themed after Star Wars, and space-age sounds serenaded him as the reels spun. When they stopped, two bars lined up, and realized he had a winner. He looked at the payout bar on the side of the machine. He’d won ten bucks.
He cashed out, and walked with her to the front. He stopped by the cooler, and plucked out a pair of ice-cold Cokes. Paying for them, he handed her one.
“What’s your name?”
“Darlene.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
Darlene took a swig of soda, belched and covered her mouth in embarrassment.
A cell phone rang behind the counter. Darlene answered it, and started yakking to her boyfriend. Gerry went back to the Bally and resumed playing it. Within a few minutes, he hit a small jackpot and stuck his fingers up the chute and hit the cash out button on the machine. Quarters flowed into his hand. He counted to eight, then pulled his hand out.
He continued to play while Darlene spoke on her cell phone, hitting two more small jackpots and stealing three times as many coins during the payout. By now, the hopper was filled with quarters, and he grabbed a plastic second bucket off the machine and filled it, then put the remaining coins into his pockets. When he went back to the counter, Darlene was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Well, look at you,” she said.
His total win came to a two hundred and thirty-eight dollars. He walked outside and handed Bronco the money. Bronco peeled off five dollars and handed it back to him, then stuffed the rest into his pocket.
“Go buy me some nail polish,” Bronco said.
“You’re kidding.”
“Just do it.”
Gerry came out a minute later with a cheap bottle of nail polish that Darlene had tried to talk him out of buying. He handed Bronco the bottle.
“Get in the car.”
Chapter 29
Bronco made him drive to a sprawling storage facility on the outskirts of town. A sign said that air- conditioned units were available by the month or year. The facility was surrounded by chain link fence, and Bronco told him the code to open the gate.
Moments later they were inside. Bronco pointed at a unit and Gerry braked in front of it. They both got out. Bronco punched another code into the keypad by the door, all the while holding his shotgun on Gerry. The sliding door went up, and Gerry stared at the brand new Ford Taurus sitting inside the unit.
“We’re going to exchange cars, and park yours in here,” Bronco said.
“Whatever you say.”
They exchanged the two cars. As Gerry pulled the rental into the unit and killed the engine, Bronco slipped out of the car.
“Been nice knowing you,” he said.
Coming around to the driver’s side, he pointed the shotgun at the side of Gerry’s head, then closed one eye and took dead aim.
“Got anything you want to say?”
Gerry shut his eyes, and tried to think of what he wanted his dying words to be. It didn’t really matter, yet
