The Walking Wolves of Tahoe: Slaughter

Chapter 2

Chapter Two...

It's Christmas Eve...none of these people should be in here tonight, but they are. Casinos are the holiday outlet for those with no families, those who can't stand their families or those who are cross-country truckers far away from their families. It's the lonely-hearts club of assorted members of society...all with nothing better to do with their money than gamble it away in here on Christmas Eve.

I believe that's called job security, isn't it?!

And I guess, tonight, I'm a member of the lonely-hearts club as well. I'm here, working on Christmas Eve, because I have no family either.

I switched shifts today and in doing so was not assigned to my typical home of the mini-bac pit. Today, Bart, the 'Pencil', gave me the assignment of 'breaker'. Basically, it's my job today to relieve other pit bosses so they can go to break.

The title 'Pencil' comes from the old days when casino dealer schedules were written in pencil on paper. Now-a-days, everything is done on the computer, but the title 'Pencil' is still used.

Bart Wilson is the Pencil today. He is really old school casino. He swears a lot, complains a lot, and insists the 'old casino days' were better than all the computerized crap of today. Bart told me when he was young, Pit Bosses could drink and smoke in the pit while they were on duty.

Not anymore, those days are gone. The Racing and Gaming Commission won't allow that anymore, besides how do you watch what's going on while you're drinking?

Bart is also a 'Pencil' none of the dealers like. He refuses to listen to them or compromise with them. He's also a 'Pencil' the pit bosses don't care for because he's strict with them as well. Casino Shift Managers don't really like Bart either because Bart still uses the paper method of tracking the dealers and refuses to use the computer.

Mostly, Bart is confined to the Craps Pit, but holiday scheduling is always a challenge and everyone has to deal with 'old school' Bart Wilson for the next eight hours.

I just try to stay out of Bart's way while I wait for my next assignment.

The phone rang. Bart cussed out the party on the other end and slammed the receiver back down into its cradle.

"Fuck...these people seriously piss me off." Bart snarled, "Mother fuckers with their weak bladders." Bart pointed a stern finger at me, "They make meds for that shit, you know."

I didn't say a word, I just nodded my head with wide eyes.

"Lola..." Bart raised his voice, his frustration showing across his face, "...give that fucker in Pit Two a break before he calls me again. I don't have time for shit like that. Jesus Christ, like I ain't got nothing else to do but listen to him piss and moan."

I nodded curtly, not liking being yelled at, and turned to leave.

"Lola..." Bart barked at me causing me to look over my shoulder back at him. Bart looked over his glasses at me, "Uh...you look very nice tonight, Lola. Red is a good color on you." He gave me slight smile letting me know his frustrated out-burst he didn't mean towards me.

"Thank you, Bart." I changed my frown to a smile and blushed slightly as I was caught off guard.

I smiled and continue to walked away toward the end of Pit One. Bart is really rough around the edges, but maybe deep down, he's not so bad.

It's always nice to get a compliment on your appearance, even if it comes from a man old enough to be your Father...it's still coming from the opposite sex. If Bart thinks I look nice, then maybe other men do too.