We walked toward the casino entrance. The hotel stretched out to the left. All around both buildings were more green lawns, ponds with fountains, and plantings to make people think they were somewhere with unlimited water, rather than in a semi-arid Mediterranean climate with a years-long drought going on. I didn’t understand that kind of mentality.
Inside, an over-air-conditioned foyer had walls lined with big showy pictures of happy Native people. A school filled with healthy, alert children. Senior citizens doing intricate beadwork in a community center. Attentive teens at desks with a Native elder writing words I didn’t recognize on a whiteboard. And signage indicating all this was made possible by the profits of the resort.
Could it be so straightforward? I didn’t know. What about the dangers of drinking and the lure of gambling the casino offered? What about the effect on the environment? Back in South Lick my aunt and others had successfully protested a resort going in, a development that had unfortunately ended up resulting in a murder. It wasn’t a Native American casino, but a beautiful wild hillside would have been destroyed by a big showy vacation destination mostly for rich folks. Not so different from here.
From behind a counter to our right, a distinctly white woman wearing a lot of makeup smiled at us. “Welcome. Is this your first time here?”
“Yes.” I smiled back. “How do things work?”
She handed us each a brochure. “This includes a map.” She opened mine. “The slot machines are here, the craps tables there, and we have several options for poker. You can use cash, a payout card, or a ticket.”
I tilted my head at Alana at the mention of cash. She rolled her eyes.
“Do you have blackjack?” Alana asked.
I shot her a glance. I had heard of blackjack, but had no idea of the rules or how to bet on it. Did Alana? This friend was full of surprises.
“Naturally. Right over there.” The woman pointed a long red nail. “And of course our girls circulate taking complimentary drink orders.”
Sure. Get the patrons tipsy so they’d spend more recklessly, be unable to bet clearly, and lose the ability to count cards. I’d heard of the free drinks deal in Las Vegas, even though I’d never been.
“Thank you,” Alana said to her. “Shall we, Roberta?”
When we were out of the woman’s earshot, I raised my eyebrows. “Roberta?”
“Seemed like a good idea to disguise ourselves a bit, don’t you think?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re one smart lady. But what’s this about blackjack?”
She laughed. “We used to play it in grad school. For pennies, of course. It’s kind of fun, and I know a few tricks for winning.”
“Are you going to play it here?”
“I might wander over and check out the action. Meet back here in half an hour?”
“Sure. I wonder how I can find out what kind of game Walter usually plays.”
“Ask one of the ‘girls’—like her.” She pointed to a ponytailed blonde in a short black skirt and a very snug sleeveless top with multicolored horizontal stripes, apparently the uniform for the drinks crew. “Say you’re looking for him. If he’s so much of a regular, everybody should know who he is. Slipping her a ten might help.” Alana headed for the blackjack tables in the far corner.
To my right, the constant two-tone dinging from dozens of slot machines was about to give me a headache, as were the flashing lights and the smell of cigarette smoke brought inside on gamblers’ clothing. Way across the room I spied green felt tables. Everywhere were men and women playing and betting. Women in tight short dresses with heels and women in sweat suits and tennies. Men in bespoke suits and others in jeans, cowboy boots, and snap-closure plaid shirts.
All the drinks staff seemed to have eyes only for active players. I slid into the nearest slot machine seat and fed in a ten-dollar bill. The traditional levers had ceded to a touch screen, which I was hesitant to actually touch. Did they ever disinfect these things? Less than a minute elapsed before the blond ponytail approached with a smile. She held a round tray with an order pad on it.
“What would you like to drink, miss?”
Up close I saw she couldn’t be much over twenty-one. She had dark eyes, and the blond had come out of a bottle. Someone who had grown up on the reservation, perhaps. A small black half-apron was tied over her skirt. At least the servers weren’t forced to wear heels to work in. Her canvas sneakers were striped to match her top.
“I’d like an IPA, please,” I told her.
“I’ll be right back with your drink. Good luck!”
“Thanks. But hang on a minute? I’m looking for an acquaintance, a Walter Russom. I know he comes here a lot. Older fellow, in good shape. Do you know what game he usually plays?”
Her smile flickered for a second. Had she had a bad experience with him? I hoped not.
“Mr. Russom prefers the high-stakes poker tables. I’m not sure he has come in yet today, though.”
“Thanks.”
She headed off for another customer who had claimed a slot machine. Yet today. Interesting choice of words. Did Walter really gamble here every day? Instead of playing, I watched the flow of people from all walks of life up and down the central aisle. A heavyset man in a suit but no tie made his way up the aisle from the back. He stopped and shook hands with people every few feet on both sides, so his progress was slow. As he drew closer, I realized it was the man who had posed with Walter in the photograph.
He was about to pass me when I stood and took a wild guess. “Hi.” I smiled and held out my hand. “I hear you’re in charge.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Boy, I’m in trouble now.” He pumped my hand. “Jimmy Lightfoot. And you are?”
“Roberta
