Excerpt of Jake's Take by Bradley Jay Meyer

The Golden Nugget's got a beautiful casino, if your taste runs to boxy white pillars and enameled walls trimmed in brass, bare-shouldered cocktail girls and hundreds of what the industry calls games of chance. The inlaid ceiling's white and gold too, except for its profusion of black surveillance mirrors. After hours of late-afternoon driving through sun-baked desert, it all seemed practically genteel.

I was thinking about surveillance as I glanced around from my perch at one of the room's many blackjack tables. I looked back across the table at Judy, a pleasant-faced brunette with shoulder length hair, as her slender fingers starting flashing cards out of a six deck shoe.

If anyone asked, I could almost honestly say I'd come out to Vegas with the trite idea of changing my luck. My motivation would have come on the previous evening, appearing in the form of a couple of cards. I'd been thinking about calling it a night as I sat alone in my west Hollywood bungalow, playing solitaire. I was in the middle of a distracted shuffle when the deck jumped from my hands. The loose pack bounced off the carpet and two lone cards flipped up. One was the King of Diamonds, that old thief. In attendance was the other big guy, the one with the heart.

It was a lovely sign, if one bought into that sort of thing. I had shrugged off similar portents in the past. Or maybe they'd shrugged me off. After taking a moment to feel cautiously optimistic I did the sensible thing and went to bed. I got up at a respectable hour in the afternoon, ransacked my place and hit the road.

After an hour at my first card table I was five hundred dollars and one partly-digested Porterhouse ahead. I thought back for a moment to the cards. For all I knew, I would have been further ahead if I'd stayed in L.A. and met a well heeled divorcee in the local supermarket's produce aisle. But I'd already had an excuse for travelling to the land of enticement. Right or wrong, it promised to be more exciting than my typical trip to Piggly Wiggly's. Truth be told, I had probably needed a vacation from that. That, and other things.

Not that the stunt work I did was all that exhausting. The typical job was really quite boring, aside from the meticulous rehearsing and brief moments of terror. The only highlight of my last job was an actress I'd met on the set. Her classy reserve had reminded me of my mother, as had the fact that she was married. Available or not, she had done a fair job of reminding I'd fallen off my game.

I waved a hand over six inches of felt to let the hidden overhead camera record that I had decided, of my very own free will, to stand on the two tens Judy had dealt me. As I waited for what I hoped was the payoff I took inventory. Whenever I looked in a mirror these days I knew I was older. Not that I'd lost any muscle tone or the ruggedly passable looks. The old wolf eyes still held the occasional glow and my smile did not look too grim. But the wide, carefree grins were not leaping to my lips with the same reckless abandon.

Judy went bust and started dishing chips. I told myself it was ridiculous, really. I was still well on the slim side of thirty five. And just then it hit me, a theory for why I'd lost half a step and a bit of my verve. Maybe some time when I wasn't looking I'd bought into the idea that the women I wanted were too good for me. But now I was back up and running, hoping I wasn't just heading for another rocky rut.

I doubled my bet and dredged loose a few memories from years gone by. When I had first been getting over what I sometimes called my Sandy episode, I had traded in women like they were used cars, giving up all sense of attachment for the prospect of better performance and a fresh smell. But that lifestyle had finally gotten old, and I had recently settled into a monkish sort of detachment.Aside from its simplicity, the change hadn't been all that good. And now this. If only I actually could buy into the idea of destiny, I considered, wouldn't that mean I could just sit back and let things work out on their own? I glanced over Judy's shoulder and an entirely different question asked itself.

An incredible blonde stood facing me from an aisle away. I saw her in glimpses as the flow of the crowd intervened. Her features were at once smooth and strongly defined. They remained fixed in quiet concentration, suggesting a glacial elegance. I could see her selling bikinis, in Alaska. Her gaze flicked across the crowd just to my right. Her eyes were a deep and mysterious green. Was she somehow supposed to be right for me? I wondered. And I could I manage to do anything about it, if she was?

As the crowd shifted again and her gaze slipped further off, my survey took in more ground. There seemed to be a solidly-racked chassis beneath her little orange halter-top dress. Her lips were painted an amusing pale violet, almost blue. I even found the rat's nest of her hair somehow charming. Her eyes swung around, as if sensing my presence. They settled coolly on me, delivering an ancient jolt of desire. Somewhere out of my line of sight Judy murmured ʺInsurance.ʺ

The tall goddess's eyes moved on. A flicker of impatience tugged cutely at her lips. I knew a couple of things then that I'd not known before. I realized I was staring at my personal ideal of female beauty. And I knew she was looking around. What I did not know was whether she could prove to be the answer to my abandoned dreams. She turned away, to the sound of coins clanking into slot machines like desperate wishes dropped down empty wells.