now he had become the still centre of that spinning wheel of misfortune.
the world turned round him.  leaving him miraculously untouched the little white ball circles the spinning wheel.
the croupier had reached his goal. he no longer heard the sound of the ball.
to begin with he was jack manfred.
jack had three words for, giles. go fuck yourself.
jack knew something was wrong. he'd forgotten giles' advice. giles said three words.
jack's voice no. jack knew it still wasn't quite right.
welcome back jack.  to the house of addiction.
it had taken him 45 minutes, but jack now had mr reynolds's number. the man couldn't count.
and end up like you?
mr reynolds was right. it was true. jack was up above the world. an artist, living in the clouds. looking down.
the casino paid its staff monthly in arrears. he would have to wait six weeks for his first cheque. he needed money now.
the car was a gift from jack's father. that's to say, jack senior had given it to him before the bailiffs arrived.
he suddenly wanted to be rid of it. 'hang on tightly, let go lightly'. it was a saying jack remembered.
jack imagined people reading his book. one day he would enter their heads, play with their imaginations, test their feelings.
he would tell them you have to make a choice in life. be a gambler or a croupier. and then live with your decision come what may.
marion saw life differently. she was a romantic. and thought he was too.
not an enigma, just a contradiction.
and he half-loved marion. and she knew that too.
the hands of a conjuror, a woman had told him once. or a card sharp.
like trouble, bella. you look fine.
the usual bunch. they didn't know jack, but he knew them.
never converse with the punters. it slows things down. speed is volume, and volume is profit for the casino. aim at twenty spins an hour.
he knew the scam. come in with five grand cash. no questions asked. launder it by getting a casino cheque when you cash in. jack wondered why mr reynolds permitted it? after all there's was no profit in it for the casino. or was there?
suddenly a delayed wave of elation came over him.
50 for a diet coke. waitresses were the true winners in the casino. they were the only members of staff allowed to accept tips. on a good night they could get between 200 and 300.
a good customer is a consistent loser. was that what mr reynolds meant?
jack could see this woman was an experienced gambler. professionals always place their bets through the croupier. that way there are no comebacks.
bright woman, he thought. she knew the rule of gold. quit when you're ahead.
matt was an escape artist. like jack's father.
marion. i'm on my way.
jack knew that, in reality, all odds are calculable.
he didn't know why, but he'd started to dress for the casino at home.
 like a musician in his tuxedo, going to the concert hall on public transport.
jack wanted to say we do it for the money. but that wasn't really true.
jack could hear matt saying it.
"i want to fuck the whole world over. it's my mission."
at last he had found what he'd been looking for. a clear and simple theme. and a hero to act it out. little matt.  . chapter one.
jack knew this was no coincidence. why had she come?
he wondered if she believed he would bring her luck.
or did she think he would help her win?
he knew how to fix it for her. his father had taught him the trick. switch the sequence. bust the bank. the casino wouldn't spot it. but jack was wary of the punters.
he could see mr tchai was counting. he couldn't risk it.
he noticed she wasn't wearing her ring. why not? odds on she'd sold it.
thank you, she said. for what, jack thought. jani de villiers knew the odds.
jack had no idea where marion was staying, or with whom. he realised he knew little about her life. but then, he had never asked about it.
for the first time in a long while jack thought about his mother. she'd left when she couldn't take it any more. his father had said 'don't worry, jacko, she'll come back.' she didn't.
but marion wasn't his mother.
chapter three. his existence was forming an interesting pattern of betrayals. sometimes he was unsure whether he was the betrayer or the betrayed.
books piled like chips. stack 'em high. sell 'em fast. make a killing. you think you're a gambler, giles, but you're not. you're a dealer.
chapter four.
jack wouldn't have come without her.
here was an interesting question. was writing work.  or play?
jack wondered why he was even considering it. ten grand. in cash. that was why. but jack didn't need the money. his father would have taken it, like a shot. but his father was a gambler.
he was always broke. jake suddenly realised.  it was jake who was considering it.
hang on tightly.  let go lightly.
he was overcome with a sense of urgency. he had to get it down.  chapter five.
chapter seven.  jack had decided to see her. the challenge was essential.
there was a part of jani he really liked.
question: was he gambling, taking jani's money? answer: no. because he wasn't betting with his own money. he was being paid in advance for a service.
in reality there were two clear elements of risk in this exchange. one: the possibility the cash was counterfeit. two: the possibility jani or her creditors would want the money back if the plan failed.
to begin with he put the odds at 2 against. 7 for. he checked a random selection of bills at a bank. they were all good.
so now his odds were decidedly better. he put them at 8 to 1. the fact that the notes were good gave him one less negative. 2 minus 1. at the same time mathematically he had one more positive. 7 plus 1.
next stage. he had to be secure at 8 to 1 against having to give the money back, so he wouldn't spend it. if after one month no one had approached him, he calculated the odds of keeping it at 20 to 1. after three months he figured 100 to 1 no one would turn up.
jake's experiment with the man would prove the point.
people don't change.
he watched their faces as they lost hour after hour, night after night, relentlessly.
he questioned the conventional wisdom that gamblers are self- destructive.
he had come to believe that in reality, they want to destroy everyone else - their families and loved ones, everyone. fuck over the whole world.
without emotion he watched them go. jake stayed.
chapter twelve.
he had always been alone. he had always believed it would make the decisions easier.
chapter thirteen.
it's all numbers, the croupier thought. a spin of the wheel. a turn of a card. the time of your life. the date of your birth. the year of your death. in the book of numbers the lord said: 'thou shalt count thy steps'.
jack thought, this is it. the famous two in the morning knock at the door. it wad pay-back time.
but he wasn't afraid. he hadn't spent one penny of the ten grand. he'd covered himself. he knew the odds.
what were the odds of being killed by a car.  on new year's eve?
marion had been visiting his mother. no, no, not his mother - her mother.
revenge? for what? whose revenge?
what had that got to do with her death?
'the world breaks everyone, and afterward many are strong at the broken places. but those that will not break, it kills. it kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. if you are none of these, you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry'.
the music stopped, jack was drunk.  hallucinating. he was back, as a child, in the wild coast casino.
jack didn't trust anyone. except himself.
it was finally finished. he thought of sending it to giles. but that wouldn't be right. he would select a publisher at random, like a number.
even his publisher had no idea who the author was. he had done the deal through a lawyer. it gave him a good feeling, no one knowing.
it never occurred to anyone at the casino that the golden lion had been his model. why should it? weren't all casinos the same.
it gave him an exquisite pleasure, being an underground man. with all his money, he hadn't even bought a car. jack knew the truth about himself, he was a one- book writer. a one time winner who had quit while he was ahead.
he changed nothing in the flat, bought nothing, spent nothing. the only thing he did was to remove the bars outside the window.
so that was it. the final card. blackjack. his father, eight thousand miles and twenty seven years away, was still dealing to his son jack from the bottom of the deck.
but jake the croupier had a sense of humour.
now he had reached the point where he no longer heard the sound of the ball.
the spin of the wheel had brought him home to the place where he was born.
the croupier's mission was accomplished.
at last he was master of the game. he had aquired the power.  to make you lose.