the only one in
the Sky Hi Club's casino with more than one stick-man working it.

The girl sniffled, and her long skinny arm reached around behind me to
snag a couple sandwiches the size of postage stamps from a waiter's
tray. She wolfed them down, wiping at the end of her long nose with a
wadded-up hunk of cambric. She'd done it before, and plenty, for her
nose was red and sore. She made cow-eyes at me.

"Don't say it," I told her. "I'm not your darlin' Billy."

The dice were to my right--I'd get them after a couple more losers
rolled. My unwanted hustler stood on that side of me, too. They never
have any money of their own. I wasn't about to give her any of mine.

I wanted to lose some dough in a hurry. I started playing field numbers,
and TK'd the dice away from the field every time a gambler came out. Of
course, I could have let the table's six per cent vigorish take it away
from me, but that would have taken longer.

Even with losing on every roll, the dice got around to me before I had
lost the nine hundred I had set out to drop. I put four chips on the
"Don't Pass" side of the line, shook left-handed because of my weak
right arm, and got ready to come out. Sniffles seized me. "Don't Billy
Joe!" she said suddenly. "You'll lose!" She pushed my chips across the
line to the "Pass" side. That burned me up.

"Get your hands off my chips," I said, annoyed by bad gambling manners.
Her face was all resignation and sadness. Well, not quite all. A lot of
it was thin, red nose and buck teeth.

"You'll lose, darlin' Billy," she said.

"Pull those chips back!" I said. Her eyebrows shrugged, but she did as I
told her. I came out, and tipped the dice to eleven. I kept the dice,
but lost my chips, which is what I wanted. Throwing six more down on the
"Don't Pass" side, I rattled the ivories in my left hand. Tears began to
roll down her unhealthy cheeks.

"Lose!" she cried nasally, and sniffled. "Billy Joe! Listen to me,
darlin' Billy! You'll lose!" Her eyes rolled up toward the top of her
head as I ignored her and came out. Sniffles gasped, "Hit's a seven!"

Well, that's the number I'd tipped them to, but she called it before the
dice stopped rolling. That left me thirteen chips. Half absent-mindedly,
I put three of them on the "Pass" side of the line and tipped the dice
to twelve. Mostly I was looking at this scarecrow beside me.

"Box cars!" one of the dealers called. "My future home." But he wasn't
as quick as Sn