CHAPTER 18--THE ROOSTER

June 1989

I can tell the Queen of Diamonds by the way she shines

-Grateful Dead

L

ike I said, when I first met Louie, he was doing his slot thing. First time I met the Rooster, he was doing something else. The blackjack thing.

It was at a table at small place on the fringes of Vegas called Jerry's Nugget. Remember that day well. Because I was winning. Someone somewhere in the casino was playing a Madonna record.

This early in the morning?

The line "touched for the very first time" popped distinctly into my head. Perhaps from a jukebox or stereo across the room. Then the roar rose again. Someone two tables away broke the dealer. A slot machine paid off. The dealer, an oriental lady about 35, asked if I wanted to bet the $50 that was sitting on the table.

"Oh thanks," I said, and pulled one of the $25 chips to my stack. The dealer then dealt to me and the other guy sitting down at third base. I held a hard twelve against the dealers nine.

"Shit," I said, as I scratched the felt tempting fate. Out comes the ten of clubs.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

"Don't be such a spoilsport," the guy sitting next to me said. That was the first time I noticed him. The big, wavy, whitish-gray hair. The thick glasses and long Jewish nose. About 50.

"Name's Rooster," he said, as he stood on his hand, and the dealer played out hers.

She draws a six and then a one-eyed Jack for a bust. Rooster could only smile.

The dealer shuffled. I won that time and Rooster lost. Rooster didn't seem to mind. I felt lucky, so I pushed two $25 chips forward.

"Hey, Mr. Rooster, what's your real name?"

"That is my real name," the man said as he plopped a $100 bill down on the table. Dealer went to change it when Rooster said "I want to bet that."

He turned to me and said, "That's the last of the money I brought today. Let's hope I get lucky."

"Money plays," the dealer shouted at the pit boss. The pit boss nodded his head. What do you know, Queen, but she hands me a blackjack. $150. Not bad.

The dealer herself had a ten showing, while Rooster had an eight and three. He looked at me "What should I do?"

"Double down, of course."

"Of course, but that's all the money I brought."

"Here," I offered, taking the black chip the dealer gave me and placing it on Rooster's square.

"We're partners."

The dealer dealt him his card face down. I went to turn it up to look at it, but Rooster grabbed my arm. "Don't look," he advised me.

"It's bad luck."

The dealer flipped over her hole card. Another ten.

The new partnership felt doomed. The dealer flipped over Rooster's card, and the Queen of Diamonds smiled up at us.