In August 1982, the Las Vegas Golden Nugget Casino hired me as a craps dealer. I was lucky that Nick Tucker, a fellow student of mine from the New York School of Gambling, (in 1978), dealt craps there too. Tucker took me under his wing, introduced me to people and showed me the ropes.
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| IN THE BACKYARD OF MY CANFIELD DRIVE CONDO, NOBODY WAS MORE MONDO BOFFO THAN ME DURING MY GOLDEN NUGGET CAREER, (1982-1984). |
The Nugget was unique, in that it had no help's hall. By not providing the staff with an eating facility, everyone was free to leave the building to eat...or whatever they pleased.
Nick said, "This free pass policy seems like a good idea but it leads to temptation, problems and trouble. A lotta guys (girls too) do drugs or drink, get messed up and lose their job."
I reminded Nick that I got my foot in the door when a dealer vanished in the middle of his shift, (vice detectives arrested him at the adult bookstore around the corner), after he stuck his penis through a "glory hole," (to be orally satisfied by an unseen solicitor on the other side of the wall).
I reminded Nick that I got my foot in the door when a dealer vanished in the middle of his shift, (vice detectives arrested him at the adult bookstore around the corner), after he stuck his penis through a "glory hole," (to be orally satisfied by an unseen solicitor on the other side of the wall).
Nick was suggesting where to eat as we were about to leave the Nugget. We agreed on a burger from the Horseshoe Casino snack bar, (across the street). We still had the strength of the Nugget's air-conditioning on our backs as the triple-digit desert swelter hit us in the face. Suddenly, as we stepped outside, Paul Proctor an old man blackjack dealer from the Nugget jostled Nick as he stormed past us, (Proctor was about sixty. Oops, old man? That's how old I am now).
Fremont Street was teeming with cars, (way before it became the Fremont Street Experience...see below...a canopied, pedestrian-only thoroughfare).
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| NICK AND WERE CROSSING BETWEEN THE GOLDEN NUGGET SIGN AND THE BIG "B" (BINION'S HORSESHOE). DON'T LET THE CANOPY, FOOL YOU, THIS PICTURE IS OUTSIDE! IN MY DAY, FREMONT STREET WAS FILLED WITH CARS. ON WEEKENDS, LOCAL TEENS CRUISED UP AND DOWN THAT SAME STREET (above) TILL THE WEE HOURS OF THE MORNING. |
Paul Proctor hustled out into traffic and dodged between taxis. Suddenly, four uniformed Golden
Nugget security guards and one plain-clothes supervisor rushed past Nick and I. They caught up with Proctor as he reached the opposite curb.
Like the wild west, women started screaming as the officers unprofessionally drew their weapons. The supervisor was readying handcuffs as he ordered, “Empty your pockets!”
In seconds, Nick and I were in a mob of curiosity seekers that encircled the performance. I was five feet from Proctor as he grudgingly turned out his
pants pockets. All he had was; a money clip with eight dollars, some
coins, a comb and a key-ring.
Proctor innocently shrugged, “You must have me confused with someone
else.”
The stone-faced supervisor said, “Breast
pocket.”
Proctor pretended to be surprised as he patted his shirt pocket and said, "Geez." He gulped and forced a laughed as he produced three, green Golden Nugget chips and two reds, ($85.00). “Goddammit fellas," he groaned, "I forgot to drop these tokes.”
Proctor was cuffed. The supervisor leered at Nick and I, "He wasn't stealing company money...that was YOUR tips." Together with his posse, the plainclothesman prodded the perpetrator, for his walk of shame, back into our casino.
Nick jabbed me in the ribs, “See
what I mean, drugs, booze and stealing. That asshole was going to drop the stash off in his car and come back for another load. Lord knows how long he was doing that shit. Strange things happen when they let weak people come and go.” I said, "Wow." Nick sighed, "After security gets done with him, I bet he accidentally falls down the same cement staircase ten times in a row. While he's in the hospital, they'll make him sign a waiver." I said, "Waiver?" He said, "Yeah, like a trade off. That way he doesn't risk jail, in exchange for not suing them. Either way, we’ll never see that prick
again.”
Whether Nick's assertion was true or not, Vegas had an unwritten law against stealing from casinos due to the implied (real?) existence of organized crime. So unless you were especially desperate or thought you were smarter than everyone else...the casinos were rarely victimized, (certainly ol' Paul Procter thought he was being clever by robbing the dealers instead of management).
Three years earlier, after six months experience dealing craps in Las Vegas, I got my first taste of conniving people who thought they were smarter than everyone else.
At 5:AM, on my way home from work, (the Holiday International Casino),my car was sideswiped, (a hit and run), on Interstate-10. I was hit so hard, I lost control near Sahara Avenue and crashed, knocking over a light pole, (you may recall my April 1, 2013 blog, "THE SHORT LIFE OF THE MAFIA STAFF CAR." In it, I described how that accident totaled my $385.00 used car and broke my hand).
I came to work the next day in a cast. I had a good relationship with my pit boss (Paul "Shag" Darrow) and asked if they would hold my job while I healed, (seven weeks). He excused himself. Ten minutes later he returned and said, "It's all fixed, you'll work here." I said, "Doing what?" "You're a dealer, right?" I said, "Yeah. So I'll operate the Big Six wheel?" He said, "You're a craps dealer." I said, "I'll sit box? (supervise)" Shag said, "No, you're a craps dealer, you'll deal craps." And I did. Shag did say if anyone ever objected that he'd move me...but no one complained, (last week was my 36th anniversary in the gaming industry and I never saw or heard of anyone else dealing craps with their hand in a cast).
The only cast-related problem I had was end the end of my first night. The pit boss and other supervisors from the next shift (graveyard) relieved my bosses. On my way out, I was intercepted by the six-foot-six graveyard pit boss John Garrison and his toady lead floorman, Mackey Jones.
Garrison said, "Hey Jonesy, how many greens ($25.00 chips), you think he can you stuff in that cast?" I was naive and thought they were kidding. Mackey lifted my cast, stared me down and said, "We better keep an eye on Steve the Sleeve."
A sharp person would have been insulted...I was intimidated. The whole time in the cast, I exaggerated, "clearing my hands" before touching my body, to prove I wasn't putting chips in my cast or up my sleeve.
A few days later, my closest friend "Ciro the Hero" told me about his friend's friend, Mike "Mooks" Mamoukian. Mooks was a likable dope who months earlier had worked with Garrison and Jones. Ciro's tale was chilling, (for a fuller version of Mike Mamoukian's story, read my June 24, 2013 blog, "MULTIPLE MOOKS.")
Mamoukian was from Buffalo New York and been a strip club bouncer. His scary face was covered by occupational hazard scars. But because he regularly ran afoul of his criminal employer, (unpaid debts and insubordination), they "owned" him. As a testament of their hold on him and his unwillingness to, "get with the program," his mangled hands and gnarled fingers looked like they were twisted and broken a gazillion times.
Mooks knew he had no life in Buffalo. When he saw an opportunity to break his cycle of abuse, he not only fled to Las Vegas but he virtually kidnapped Maria, a kindred spirit dancer.
Eventually, Mooks became a craps dealer at the Holiday International. But between his lack of intelligence and inability to handle chips, his coworkers labeled him; the worst dealer in Vegas. One day John Garrison took him aside and said, "Mike, not everyone is cut-out to be a craps dealer." Mooks took a deep breath in the expectation that he was getting fired.
Mooks reflected on his heavy responsibility, supporting Maria. As ugly as Mooks was, that's how beautiful this illegal refugee from Estonia was. In the late 1970's, while the Cold War was still going strong, her family paid a heavy price to smuggle her (alone) into the country. Unfortunately, once here, the unscrupulous broker sold her like chattel to the strip club owner. While working in his club's kitchen, Maria was duped into using heroine. Once addicted, this lonely, non-English speaking, flawless beauty became enslaved as a topless dancer and prostitute.
John Garrison interrupted Mooks' daydream about his platonic relationship with Maria, "Mike, did you hear me?" Mooks said, "Heh?" Garrison huffed, "I said, dealing craps is not for everyone. But I can see you're a bright, decent guy who may be better suited to help our company in a management position." Mooks scratched at his uni-brow and nodded. Garrison said, "I just got a promotion and I think with your people skills, you'd do a bang-up job replacing me as the graveyard craps pit boss."
In the blink of an eye, moronic Mooks had gone from thinking he was unemployed to doubling his salary.
The reality was, Mooks was set-up to be a patsy. While getting wined and dined, respected and appreciated, he was getting indoctrinated to be a fall-guy. Between lavish meals and personalized hostess service on the casino floor, Mooks was inundated with providing his "John Hancock." The new position was exciting and he felt important, (in his private time, he even practiced his signature). So there was little chance he'd do anything to jeopardize the bonanza he fell upon.
The casino had the least customers in the overnight hours. So someone with Mooks' intellect wouldn't think twice why he was bombarded with signing mostly bogus paperwork, (for the floor waxing team to be on the casino floor, clearance for the exterminator , overhead light bulbs to be replaced, memos approving new dealer aprons, the master attendance sheets and more). What he definitely never picked up on was that all these signatures and initials came at the same time as fills, (fresh casino chips to replenish a table's bank).
On his third day, Mooks was distracted with a new, more complex version of the attendance sheet. Mackey Jones shoved the fill slip (receipt for the chips), in Mooks' face and said, "I see you're buried, sign here and I'll put the fill on the game for you."
Mooks thanked him but never counted the chips (money). This scheme worked perfectly five shifts in a row, as he signed for $500.00 that wasn't there...and was subsequently stolen by Garrison, Jones and two others.
One morning, a young, hippie-ish dealer came into the restaurant while Mooks was waiting for his stuffed veal chop at 6:00AM. The kid said, "I could be wrong because I was reading the fill slips upside down but three nights in a row, a tray of nickels (one hundred, five-dollar chips, $500.00) was missing."
Mooks dismissed the kid as he shoveled spoonfuls of shrimp bisque into his mouth. Suddenly everything came together. He ripped off his soup-stained napkin from the neck of his shirt and sped to John Garrison's office.
Garrison listened to Mooks accuse Mackey Jones and the boxman of plotting to rob the casino. Under his breath Garrison said, "You're smarter than you look." Mooks took it as a compliment, smiled and said, "Well I can't take all the credit, I did have help." Then he named his informant. Garrison said, "I want to thank you. I'm gonna have to fire those guys...but I can't take a chance that you and that kid aren't in it with them. You understand."
Mooks was unemployed for months until he got hired as a blackjack dealer, at the bottom of the barrel, Lady Luck Casino.At that point, Garrison, Jones and their fellow conspirators, (the boxman and the cage cashier) were still at the Holiday International when I was asked, "How many green chips could I stuff in my cast?"
Last week, I was telling a new MGTP reader (EEBEE) about a recent scam at the Cosmopolitan Casino where a dealer was permitted by his accomplice supervisor to hand off $60,000.00 in chips to a third comrade posing as a customer, (of course these desperadoes weren't smarter than everyone else and got caught).
EEBEE countered, "I just saw on the Travel Channel a casino stealing device called the 'sleeve.' It looks like a big, plastic twist-off cap from a water bottle."
The sleeve is deep and wide enough to jam five standard casino chips in. To start the process, an actual five-dollar chip from that casino is pushed to the bottom and brought onto the table by a roulette dealer. The dealer secretly squeezes four, one-hundred dollar chips into the bottom of the sleeve. The camera above sees a typical pile of five, red chips. The sides of the sleeve are painted red to match the wall of the chips.
The dealers accomplice makes bets of five red chips on an even money bet, (odd-even or black-red). When it loses, the team is out $25.00 . When it wins, they get four hundred, hidden under a five-dollar chip, (an undeserved $380.00).
EEBEE and I discussed the obvious shortcoming of such a scam. Primarily, a halfway sharp supervisor would notice the shortage in hundred dollar chips. But if done once a night it, it could work. Maybe even once an hour as the sleeve is brought back after each of the dealer's breaks. But the biggest drawback would be greed. It might seem so easy that dastardly duo might get impatient and try to pass it back and forth several times over the table, (a new bet with the sleeve would reveal one red at the top and be otherwise empty. It would be paid $25.00 when it won. But when it lost, (only five dollars), the dealer would have a chance to reload it.
EEBEE said, "It was that kind of greedy bullshit that got Steve the Sleeve caught." I said, "Where did you get that name from?" EEBEE said, "On the show, the dealer they caught with the sleeve was named Steve. That's what they nicknamed him." I said, "Well, it's the return of Steve the Sleeve! At least I'm not the only one."
Then I explained about Paul Proctor and Mooks before telling him that that thieving John Garrison and Mackey Jones had the audacity to imply that I was stuffing chips in my cast and calling me, Steve the Sleeve.
EPILOGUE:
In 2009, I saw "Ciro the Hero" for the last time, (that's when he became "Ciro the Zero"...but that's a story for another time).
He told me that Mooks was paranoid for a long time about his old strip club bosses ordering a hit on him so they could recover their property, (Maria). Considering that the schmuck told strangers he was from Buffalo and never changed his name (there can't be too many Mamoukians out there), it's a miracle the baddies never caught up with him.
Ciro said, "Mooks might have been an imbecile but he was a champ, the way he cared for Maria while she was going cold-turkey," (I saw her once in 1979 and she seemed catatonic before I found out why).
Ciro said, "Mooks was all she had. They fell in love. Twenty years ago, I was a witness at their courthouse wedding. The first thing Mooks did was contact her family. They had no idea what happened to her and assumed she was dead. Then as a honeymoon, he took Maria back to Estonia."
Mooks is still dealing blackjack in some dive casino downtown and Maria has a big pit boss job on the strip. Having nothing to do with why he's now "Ciro the Zero," Ciro wouldn't tell me where they were working.
Whether Nick's assertion was true or not, Vegas had an unwritten law against stealing from casinos due to the implied (real?) existence of organized crime. So unless you were especially desperate or thought you were smarter than everyone else...the casinos were rarely victimized, (certainly ol' Paul Procter thought he was being clever by robbing the dealers instead of management).
Three years earlier, after six months experience dealing craps in Las Vegas, I got my first taste of conniving people who thought they were smarter than everyone else.
At 5:AM, on my way home from work, (the Holiday International Casino),my car was sideswiped, (a hit and run), on Interstate-10. I was hit so hard, I lost control near Sahara Avenue and crashed, knocking over a light pole, (you may recall my April 1, 2013 blog, "THE SHORT LIFE OF THE MAFIA STAFF CAR." In it, I described how that accident totaled my $385.00 used car and broke my hand).
I came to work the next day in a cast. I had a good relationship with my pit boss (Paul "Shag" Darrow) and asked if they would hold my job while I healed, (seven weeks). He excused himself. Ten minutes later he returned and said, "It's all fixed, you'll work here." I said, "Doing what?" "You're a dealer, right?" I said, "Yeah. So I'll operate the Big Six wheel?" He said, "You're a craps dealer." I said, "I'll sit box? (supervise)" Shag said, "No, you're a craps dealer, you'll deal craps." And I did. Shag did say if anyone ever objected that he'd move me...but no one complained, (last week was my 36th anniversary in the gaming industry and I never saw or heard of anyone else dealing craps with their hand in a cast).
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| SUMMER 1979. THE ONLY PICTURE OF ME WITH THE CAST. |
The only cast-related problem I had was end the end of my first night. The pit boss and other supervisors from the next shift (graveyard) relieved my bosses. On my way out, I was intercepted by the six-foot-six graveyard pit boss John Garrison and his toady lead floorman, Mackey Jones.
Garrison said, "Hey Jonesy, how many greens ($25.00 chips), you think he can you stuff in that cast?" I was naive and thought they were kidding. Mackey lifted my cast, stared me down and said, "We better keep an eye on Steve the Sleeve."
A sharp person would have been insulted...I was intimidated. The whole time in the cast, I exaggerated, "clearing my hands" before touching my body, to prove I wasn't putting chips in my cast or up my sleeve.
A few days later, my closest friend "Ciro the Hero" told me about his friend's friend, Mike "Mooks" Mamoukian. Mooks was a likable dope who months earlier had worked with Garrison and Jones. Ciro's tale was chilling, (for a fuller version of Mike Mamoukian's story, read my June 24, 2013 blog, "MULTIPLE MOOKS.")
Mamoukian was from Buffalo New York and been a strip club bouncer. His scary face was covered by occupational hazard scars. But because he regularly ran afoul of his criminal employer, (unpaid debts and insubordination), they "owned" him. As a testament of their hold on him and his unwillingness to, "get with the program," his mangled hands and gnarled fingers looked like they were twisted and broken a gazillion times.
 |
| MOOKS' FINGERS, KNUCKLES AND HANDS REMINDED ME OF NFL HALL-OF-FAMER CHUCK "CEMENT CHARLIE" BEDNARIK'S, (above). BEDNARIK (1925-PRESENT), PLAYED FROM 1949-1962. HE WAS THE LAST NFLer TO REGULARLY "GO BOTH WAYS", (PLAY ENTIRE GAMES, CENTER ON OFFENSE AND LINEBACKER ON DEFENSE). HIS DISFIGURED HANDS ARE A RESULT OF RIVALS WHO TRIED TO CRIPPLE HIM IN PLAYER PILE-UPS. |
Mooks knew he had no life in Buffalo. When he saw an opportunity to break his cycle of abuse, he not only fled to Las Vegas but he virtually kidnapped Maria, a kindred spirit dancer.
Eventually, Mooks became a craps dealer at the Holiday International. But between his lack of intelligence and inability to handle chips, his coworkers labeled him; the worst dealer in Vegas. One day John Garrison took him aside and said, "Mike, not everyone is cut-out to be a craps dealer." Mooks took a deep breath in the expectation that he was getting fired.
Mooks reflected on his heavy responsibility, supporting Maria. As ugly as Mooks was, that's how beautiful this illegal refugee from Estonia was. In the late 1970's, while the Cold War was still going strong, her family paid a heavy price to smuggle her (alone) into the country. Unfortunately, once here, the unscrupulous broker sold her like chattel to the strip club owner. While working in his club's kitchen, Maria was duped into using heroine. Once addicted, this lonely, non-English speaking, flawless beauty became enslaved as a topless dancer and prostitute.
John Garrison interrupted Mooks' daydream about his platonic relationship with Maria, "Mike, did you hear me?" Mooks said, "Heh?" Garrison huffed, "I said, dealing craps is not for everyone. But I can see you're a bright, decent guy who may be better suited to help our company in a management position." Mooks scratched at his uni-brow and nodded. Garrison said, "I just got a promotion and I think with your people skills, you'd do a bang-up job replacing me as the graveyard craps pit boss."
In the blink of an eye, moronic Mooks had gone from thinking he was unemployed to doubling his salary.
The reality was, Mooks was set-up to be a patsy. While getting wined and dined, respected and appreciated, he was getting indoctrinated to be a fall-guy. Between lavish meals and personalized hostess service on the casino floor, Mooks was inundated with providing his "John Hancock." The new position was exciting and he felt important, (in his private time, he even practiced his signature). So there was little chance he'd do anything to jeopardize the bonanza he fell upon.
The casino had the least customers in the overnight hours. So someone with Mooks' intellect wouldn't think twice why he was bombarded with signing mostly bogus paperwork, (for the floor waxing team to be on the casino floor, clearance for the exterminator , overhead light bulbs to be replaced, memos approving new dealer aprons, the master attendance sheets and more). What he definitely never picked up on was that all these signatures and initials came at the same time as fills, (fresh casino chips to replenish a table's bank).
On his third day, Mooks was distracted with a new, more complex version of the attendance sheet. Mackey Jones shoved the fill slip (receipt for the chips), in Mooks' face and said, "I see you're buried, sign here and I'll put the fill on the game for you."
Mooks thanked him but never counted the chips (money). This scheme worked perfectly five shifts in a row, as he signed for $500.00 that wasn't there...and was subsequently stolen by Garrison, Jones and two others.
One morning, a young, hippie-ish dealer came into the restaurant while Mooks was waiting for his stuffed veal chop at 6:00AM. The kid said, "I could be wrong because I was reading the fill slips upside down but three nights in a row, a tray of nickels (one hundred, five-dollar chips, $500.00) was missing."
Mooks dismissed the kid as he shoveled spoonfuls of shrimp bisque into his mouth. Suddenly everything came together. He ripped off his soup-stained napkin from the neck of his shirt and sped to John Garrison's office.
Garrison listened to Mooks accuse Mackey Jones and the boxman of plotting to rob the casino. Under his breath Garrison said, "You're smarter than you look." Mooks took it as a compliment, smiled and said, "Well I can't take all the credit, I did have help." Then he named his informant. Garrison said, "I want to thank you. I'm gonna have to fire those guys...but I can't take a chance that you and that kid aren't in it with them. You understand."
Mooks was unemployed for months until he got hired as a blackjack dealer, at the bottom of the barrel, Lady Luck Casino.At that point, Garrison, Jones and their fellow conspirators, (the boxman and the cage cashier) were still at the Holiday International when I was asked, "How many green chips could I stuff in my cast?"
Last week, I was telling a new MGTP reader (EEBEE) about a recent scam at the Cosmopolitan Casino where a dealer was permitted by his accomplice supervisor to hand off $60,000.00 in chips to a third comrade posing as a customer, (of course these desperadoes weren't smarter than everyone else and got caught).
EEBEE countered, "I just saw on the Travel Channel a casino stealing device called the 'sleeve.' It looks like a big, plastic twist-off cap from a water bottle."
 |
| UNLIKE THE SMALL TWIST-OFF CAPS, (above), THE NEARLY UNDETECTABLE "SLEEVE" IS CLEAR, SPECIALLY MADE OF A NON-REFLECTIVE MATERIAL AND HAS NO LINES OR GROOVES. |
The sleeve is deep and wide enough to jam five standard casino chips in. To start the process, an actual five-dollar chip from that casino is pushed to the bottom and brought onto the table by a roulette dealer. The dealer secretly squeezes four, one-hundred dollar chips into the bottom of the sleeve. The camera above sees a typical pile of five, red chips. The sides of the sleeve are painted red to match the wall of the chips.
The dealers accomplice makes bets of five red chips on an even money bet, (odd-even or black-red). When it loses, the team is out $25.00 . When it wins, they get four hundred, hidden under a five-dollar chip, (an undeserved $380.00).
EEBEE and I discussed the obvious shortcoming of such a scam. Primarily, a halfway sharp supervisor would notice the shortage in hundred dollar chips. But if done once a night it, it could work. Maybe even once an hour as the sleeve is brought back after each of the dealer's breaks. But the biggest drawback would be greed. It might seem so easy that dastardly duo might get impatient and try to pass it back and forth several times over the table, (a new bet with the sleeve would reveal one red at the top and be otherwise empty. It would be paid $25.00 when it won. But when it lost, (only five dollars), the dealer would have a chance to reload it.
EEBEE said, "It was that kind of greedy bullshit that got Steve the Sleeve caught." I said, "Where did you get that name from?" EEBEE said, "On the show, the dealer they caught with the sleeve was named Steve. That's what they nicknamed him." I said, "Well, it's the return of Steve the Sleeve! At least I'm not the only one."
Then I explained about Paul Proctor and Mooks before telling him that that thieving John Garrison and Mackey Jones had the audacity to imply that I was stuffing chips in my cast and calling me, Steve the Sleeve.
EPILOGUE:
In 2009, I saw "Ciro the Hero" for the last time, (that's when he became "Ciro the Zero"...but that's a story for another time).
He told me that Mooks was paranoid for a long time about his old strip club bosses ordering a hit on him so they could recover their property, (Maria). Considering that the schmuck told strangers he was from Buffalo and never changed his name (there can't be too many Mamoukians out there), it's a miracle the baddies never caught up with him.
Ciro said, "Mooks might have been an imbecile but he was a champ, the way he cared for Maria while she was going cold-turkey," (I saw her once in 1979 and she seemed catatonic before I found out why).
Ciro said, "Mooks was all she had. They fell in love. Twenty years ago, I was a witness at their courthouse wedding. The first thing Mooks did was contact her family. They had no idea what happened to her and assumed she was dead. Then as a honeymoon, he took Maria back to Estonia."
Mooks is still dealing blackjack in some dive casino downtown and Maria has a big pit boss job on the strip. Having nothing to do with why he's now "Ciro the Zero," Ciro wouldn't tell me where they were working.
3 comments:
Love the casino stories, my man. It's good I never got into the business ... so friggin' temping. :)
Steve the Sleeve was funny and interesting. Last Tuesday when I passed by you, I pulled on my sleeve but I don't think you noticed my little joke. Thanks for putting my name up in lights. Also you gotta see the pic on my phone of the "sleeve." --- EEBEE
Steve...one day, many many years ago, when I was a Blackjack dealer at Resorts International, I had this really nasty Floor lady overseeing my game. While I was 'dumping' like crazy, this Floor lady was running around like a chicken with its head cut off muttering to herself at quite an audible level, ' We have a runaway...oh my gosh, we have a runaway!' Like the money was coming out of her pocket! Actually it was! A few weeks later, when she was sitting Box, casino security and the DGE made her shake her sleeves. Lo and behold....several $100 chips fell out onto the craps table. Seems like Steve The Sleeve had a female version of himself in AC!
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