Meanwhile, warm-hearted but confused Glenda du Pont decided to take the job at the Casino, training to become a croupier under the loathsome and lecherous gaze of monobrow Perkins.
Old Demas’ Piggery is developing nicely, despite the poor economic forecast.
Will Demas recognise that tough times are around the corner?
Can Jack make genuine friends simply by flashing the cash?
Is Glenda going to meet him over the chips while the roulette wheel spins its tinkling refrain?
Now read on…
‘Place your bets, please!’ Glenda’s perfect teeth and fully-hydrated complexion sparkled their magic as Jack approached the roulette table, his large bag of coins in hand.
‘You may change your coins for chips at the booth, sir,’ she said, noting his steely gaze, firm jaw, well-toned abdomen and well-groomed hair. She pursed her ruby-red lips as he smiled and nodded his approval. Was he approving of her eagerness for him to play (and perhaps win?) or was he acknowledging her cultured beauty and wondering how he might make a play (and perhaps win?).
He changed a few shekels and sat at the table. ‘Vingt et un,’ he said, placing three blue chips on 21.
‘That’s on another table, as a rule, sir,’ she smiled, both knowing his reference was not to the card game but to the age of consent, and was a thin-veiled coded expression of warmth and affection.
He touched a chip to his full, soft, tender lips, kissed it gently and added to the others. ‘When you’re ready…’ he said, quietly.
Somehow the bustle and chatter from other gamblers around them began to fade. Glenda could see only Jack, and failed to notice others who were about to place their chips on the playing surface. ‘No more bets, now, she announced, as the ball span freely around and around, circling, ever-circling, then starting to slow and fade and beginning its jumping spiral towards settling on a number…
’21, red, odd, a high number, 2nd dozen, third street, voisins du zero,’ she said, with a smile. If Perkins had happened to glance her way at that moment, he’d be furious at the evident delight she was showing that a punter had made a winning bet with his first attempt. She ought to be stolidly professional about giving away the casino’s wealth, especially when he had placed three – no, four D250 chips , which amounted to a winning value of D35,000.
‘My lucky day,’ said Jack, eyes saying what his heart truly felt at meeting this dazzling beauty, appreciating the look of Glenda’s long fingers, pure skin, full red lips and tumbling tresses, which fell appealingly over her shoulders and in front of her spangly scarlet evening gown.
‘You never know what other luck you might have,’ she muttered to herself, accepting his offer of a cocktail when she finished her shift. ‘I’m about to take a break – I’ll meet you by the bar.’
She smiled as she turned her attention to the other gamblers, having noticed that nasty Perkins hovering nearby, keeping watch over his croupiers that night, as he did every night, especially Glenda.
Jack took one of the tall stools by the bar and ordered two Martinis.
Duties over for a while, she joined him there.
‘Hey, sweets, you want to choose your poison?’ he said, with a twinkle. Coyly, she flashed her (continued on page 330)
to be concluded
to be concluded
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