It's Friday night and that means I'm going to the casino with my mother.
She makes me take her once a month and has strict rules for herself. She takes about $40 cash in her little white purse and spends it on the penny machines. I disapprove of this and have tried and failed to convince her to do something else with her time, but she's hardly a high roller. "It's not just about gambling," she says and that's true.
She likes to have dinner at the mediocre restaurant with the cheap deals that draw the seniors and low-income people. Where else in town can you get a steak and lobster dinner or turkey dinner buffet for $9.99? Oh, and while you're here, throw some money in the machines. The tactics are insidious, but she doesn't see that.
She likes to browse around with her glass of orange juice, taking in the sparkly, demented chaos of the coloured, flashing lights. She has friends she meets up with, they line themselves up in seats at a bank of machines, hooting and hollering when they get a row of blazing sevens or diamonds on a line. She gets a kick out of it, like it's a giant arcade for seniors. Her friends seem to pump in way more money than she does, they don't have her self-control, or non-addictive personality. I feel sorry for them, chasing the dream of fast, free money.
The noise is assaulting. Screeching eagles, stampeding buffalos, ringing bells, beating drums: all signalling to you that someone nearby is winning an enormous fortune. You'd better find a machine fast and plug twenties into it so you can get your share. It's so manipulative, this ringing, spinning, brightly coloured den of dreams.
When they first opened the place on the waterfront years ago, the argument was they'd tap into the lucrative cruise ship market; rich tourists would flock to the place and spend their plentiful American or European dollars here to boost the island's economy. So far, as expected, that's not how things panned out. Cruise ships have casinos, and there's always Vegas for folks with money to burn.
These casino patrons are always same, month after depressing month. Seniors like my mom, spending their pension cheques, the odd smattering of university students out for a kick on a Friday night, worried-looking middle aged men and women looking like they've got the cares of the world on their shoulders.
I park the car and she grabs my arm as we go in the front door, walking in step with me. "Isn't this fun?" she says with a giggle, and I can't help but smile. She's like a kid at the fair.
"I still think you should find something better to do with your time than visit this den of iniquity. What about Bingo at Father Jake's church?"
She scoffs. "What am I, an old lady? Get out of here."
The first thing she does after we show our ID at the door and descend the escalator is ditch me. She knows I don't like to play the machines and she doesn't like me looking over her shoulder while she does, so she deposits me at the bar and takes off. I usually nurse a cup of coffee or a wine spritzer and look at my phone for an hour before I get restless and go look for her.
"The usual, Darcey?" The bartender leaves his conversation with the waitress and heads in my direction.
I'm here so much, I have a usual.
"Sure, Joe."
"Coming up." He turns his back and fills a glass half-way with white wine and tops it with lemonade, a splash of sparkling water and two cherries. The cherries are the best part of it.
"One Darcey special," he says, sliding it over to me. I pass him a ten and tell him to keep the change.
The casino is on the ground floor of a hotel and convention centre, a big, expensive complex that got a shitload of money from the government years ago.
YOU ARE READING
The Trust
General Fiction*COMPLETE* A trusted relative has come into money - more than he can ever spend in several lifetimes. And he wants to share it with you. You're part of a trust, due to receive a fortune - and soon. Life-changing money, the kind you only dream about...
