Free What Happens in Reno by Mike Monson Page A

go.”
    “But you just got here, sweetie.” Somehow, her wig had gotten twisted, and he could see some of her gray hair secured tightly to her scalp with bobby pins.
    “I really need to eat something.”
    He rushed toward the door just as he heard the man in the other room choking. He kept going. The woman rushed into the bedroom. A moment later she screamed.
    “Herman,” she kept saying, “Herman, what is wrong? What is wrong?”
    Matt wanted to leave right then, but something compelled him to go into the room.
    An old man in the bed was clearly choking on something. The woman was shaking him by the throat. His face was turning bright red. Matt tried to pull her off, but her grip was too strong. He knew the man was dying. This wasn’t his first encounter with aspiration of vomit from alcohol abuse. He’d been saved from the same kind of death once before—when he was barely 16. He’d twice prevented the death of his mother from the same cause.
    He knew what needed to be done. He got his hands under the women’s arms and managed to pull her off Herman. She fell off the bed. Her wig came off.
    Matt turned the man over on his side and put his fingers in his mouth and cleared his throat. He roughly massaged the man’s back. After about three minutes, the old guy began to breathe normally and his color returned. He woke up and looked at Matt on top of him and at his wife crying on the floor next to the bed.
    Matt got off the bed and took a couple of steps toward the door. The woman stuck the wig back on and joined her husband on the bed.
    “What’s going on?” Herman said, focusing his eyes. “Who is that man?”
    Herman reached out and opened his nightstand drawer. He pulled out a large revolver with a very long barrel. His wife jumped over and held his hand down.
    “No Herman, no,” she said. “It’s okay, he’s a friend. When you were choking, I went out in the hall and started yelling for help, and this kind man just happened to be walking by. Good thing he knew what to do.”
    The man looked skeptical and angry. He let go of the gun. He glared at Matt. Matt went to the outer room and out the door as fast as he could. He had the odd sensation that he knew Herman from somewhere.
    As he left, he heard the woman say, “He saved your life Herman, he saved your life.”
    Herman said, “He did?”
    “He sure did.”
    “Just walking by, my ass.”
    Downstairs, Matt found a men’s room and washed Herman’s vomit from his hands. He went to the all-night café and got steak, eggs, and hash browns. He was the only customer. He could hear the sounds of slot machines dinging and of gamblers shouting at a craps table. He poured tabasco sauce over everything on his plate and ate every bite. The young and very cute waitress smiled and smiled at him and seemed to want to start up a conversation, but he didn’t respond.
    After breakfast, he searched the casino floor until he found the five-dollar poker machines. This was more like it. These were his favorites. With a possible five-credit bet each hand, he could bet $25 each time. The payout for a royal flush could be tremendous. He’d won several hundred dollars on these dozens of times. Now, with so much money to spend, he figured he could do it again, but bigger. No problem. He just needed to get some four of-a-kinds and some royal flushes. He’d done it before.
    As long as he was playing, he knew he’d get free drinks. He settled into a spot and got a double tequila and a glass of water from a waitress. Took out his envelope of hundreds. Grabbed all the bills and put them next to his drink. Fed ten hundreds into the machine and began to play.
    He bet the maximum on his first hand. Drew a deuce, a three, a ten, an eight, and a five in various suits. Kept the ten and drew another ten. A pair of tens. Nothing, only Jacks or better paid anything.
    Quickly, he bet again. He drew another bad hand, didn’t even wind up with a pair. This went on for about a dozen