Read Online Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4) by John A. Heldt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John A. Heldt
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staying longer, are you?"
"I'm thinking about a lot of things," Mary Beth said. She took a breath. "Let's just enjoy the weekend and see how things go. OK? I promise we won't do anything that you don't support a hundred percent. Is that fair?"
"That's fair."
Piper put another nickel in the machine. For the umpteenth time, she failed to get a return on her modest investment. She glanced at Mark.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I should change machines."
Mark smiled.
"That's what I would do."
Piper looked at Mark and Mary Beth.
"So are you going to gamble some more?"
Mary Beth shook her head.
"We're going for a walk. It's beautiful out right now and a lot cooler than it was even an hour ago. I want to see more of the city."
"OK."
"What about you?" Mary Beth asked. "What are you going to do?"
Piper put the last of her coins in the slot and pulled the arm of the bandit one more time. She was done with this mechanical pirate.
"I think I'm going to—"
Piper stopped speaking when she saw the slot machine display a seven and then another and then another. She gasped when bells started ringing, lights started blinking, and coins started falling. She nearly fell over when the racket continued for another thirty seconds.
She shoveled hundreds of nickels into a small bucket, stepped away from the machine, and surveyed the crowded casino for potential trouble. She didn't see any men in black head her way, but she did see two casino clerks stare at her, exchange words, and walk toward a security desk.
"I think I'm going to go back to the room," Piper said. She shoveled a few more nickels into her bucket, clutched the container like a running back protecting a football, and then smiled at her sister. "I'm feeling tired all of a sudden. Good night!"
CHAPTER 13: MARY BETH
Sunday, March 22, 1959
Jimmy Smith didn't smile when Mark and Mary Beth entered the Fourth Quarter at ten after twelve. He didn't smirk. He didn't grin. He didn't do anything to suggest that he was happy with what had transpired in the past eighteen hours.
"Hello, Mr. Smith," Mary Beth said as she approached the counter.
"Good afternoon," Jimmy replied.
"I've come to collect my winnings."
"I figured you had."
Mary Beth glanced at Mark, who stood behind her, and noted his smile. She was glad to have his strong, subtle, and unqualified support, even if she didn't require it. She smiled at Mark, returned to Jimmy, and plopped her purse on the counter.
"Do you need my receipt?" Mary Beth asked.
"No," Jimmy said. "I don't need a thing except your signature."
The turf club owner reached into the drawer under the counter, retrieved a pen and a form, and slipped both toward a woman he had clearly never expected to see again. He watched her closely as she examined the form, signed it, and pushed it back.
"Is that sufficient?" Mary Beth asked.
"That will do," Jimmy said.
The short man tossed the form into the drawer, closed it, and then retreated to a small wall safe about ten feet away. He spun a dial three times, opened the safe door, and retrieved a white envelope that looked positively pregnant. He returned to the counter a few seconds later with the envelope in one hand and his figurative hat in the other. He handed Mary Beth the cash.
"Here you go," Jimmy said. "Go ahead. Take a look."
Mary Beth did as requested. She opened the envelope, pulled out a wad, and placed it on the counter. Then she inventoried her winnings. She counted fifty twenty-dollar bills and eleven hundred-dollar bills, including the crisp Benjamin Franklin she had used to make the bet.
"It's all there," Mary Beth said. She looked at Jimmy. "Thank you."
Mark waited as Mary Beth shuffled the bills together, put them in the envelope, and then tucked the envelope in her purse. He smiled when she turned to face him.
"Are you ready to go?" Mark asked.
Mary Beth nodded.
"I'm ready."
Mark allowed Mary Beth to pass, put a hand on her back, and guided her toward the exit.
"I'm thinking about a lot of things," Mary Beth said. She took a breath. "Let's just enjoy the weekend and see how things go. OK? I promise we won't do anything that you don't support a hundred percent. Is that fair?"
"That's fair."
Piper put another nickel in the machine. For the umpteenth time, she failed to get a return on her modest investment. She glanced at Mark.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I should change machines."
Mark smiled.
"That's what I would do."
Piper looked at Mark and Mary Beth.
"So are you going to gamble some more?"
Mary Beth shook her head.
"We're going for a walk. It's beautiful out right now and a lot cooler than it was even an hour ago. I want to see more of the city."
"OK."
"What about you?" Mary Beth asked. "What are you going to do?"
Piper put the last of her coins in the slot and pulled the arm of the bandit one more time. She was done with this mechanical pirate.
"I think I'm going to—"
Piper stopped speaking when she saw the slot machine display a seven and then another and then another. She gasped when bells started ringing, lights started blinking, and coins started falling. She nearly fell over when the racket continued for another thirty seconds.
She shoveled hundreds of nickels into a small bucket, stepped away from the machine, and surveyed the crowded casino for potential trouble. She didn't see any men in black head her way, but she did see two casino clerks stare at her, exchange words, and walk toward a security desk.
"I think I'm going to go back to the room," Piper said. She shoveled a few more nickels into her bucket, clutched the container like a running back protecting a football, and then smiled at her sister. "I'm feeling tired all of a sudden. Good night!"
CHAPTER 13: MARY BETH
Sunday, March 22, 1959
Jimmy Smith didn't smile when Mark and Mary Beth entered the Fourth Quarter at ten after twelve. He didn't smirk. He didn't grin. He didn't do anything to suggest that he was happy with what had transpired in the past eighteen hours.
"Hello, Mr. Smith," Mary Beth said as she approached the counter.
"Good afternoon," Jimmy replied.
"I've come to collect my winnings."
"I figured you had."
Mary Beth glanced at Mark, who stood behind her, and noted his smile. She was glad to have his strong, subtle, and unqualified support, even if she didn't require it. She smiled at Mark, returned to Jimmy, and plopped her purse on the counter.
"Do you need my receipt?" Mary Beth asked.
"No," Jimmy said. "I don't need a thing except your signature."
The turf club owner reached into the drawer under the counter, retrieved a pen and a form, and slipped both toward a woman he had clearly never expected to see again. He watched her closely as she examined the form, signed it, and pushed it back.
"Is that sufficient?" Mary Beth asked.
"That will do," Jimmy said.
The short man tossed the form into the drawer, closed it, and then retreated to a small wall safe about ten feet away. He spun a dial three times, opened the safe door, and retrieved a white envelope that looked positively pregnant. He returned to the counter a few seconds later with the envelope in one hand and his figurative hat in the other. He handed Mary Beth the cash.
"Here you go," Jimmy said. "Go ahead. Take a look."
Mary Beth did as requested. She opened the envelope, pulled out a wad, and placed it on the counter. Then she inventoried her winnings. She counted fifty twenty-dollar bills and eleven hundred-dollar bills, including the crisp Benjamin Franklin she had used to make the bet.
"It's all there," Mary Beth said. She looked at Jimmy. "Thank you."
Mark waited as Mary Beth shuffled the bills together, put them in the envelope, and then tucked the envelope in her purse. He smiled when she turned to face him.
"Are you ready to go?" Mark asked.
Mary Beth nodded.
"I'm ready."
Mark allowed Mary Beth to pass, put a hand on her back, and guided her toward the exit.
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