Slots of Saturn: A Poker Boy Novel by Smith Dean Wesley

Author:Smith, Dean Wesley [Smith, Dean Wesley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: WMG Publishing
Published: 2014-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

THE BOOKKEEPER

AFTER LUNCH, Samantha had taken her dog Sue for a short walk and then back to her room and left Sue there. With whatever Stan had done to Samantha’s four remaining senses, she had said she wasn’t going to need Sue as much.

When Samantha came walking out of the side door to the Horseshoe with her sunglasses on, but acting and moving as if she could see everything, I was a believer.

After the three of us were in Patty’s car, with Patty driving, me in the front seat, and Samantha in the back, Patty asked Samantha what the new senses felt like.

“Same as before,” Samantha said, laughing. “I’m still smelling, hearing, feeling and tasting like before. It’s just that the first three are very heightened, and the information I’m getting from the three senses of smelling, hearing, and feeling is being put together better in my head, forming pretty good images of things.”

I turned my head to look at her and ask a question, but Samantha pointed a finger at me. “There, I can tell you turned your head and are looking at me.” She reached forward and gently touched my cheek. “My combined senses even tell me exactly how far your face is from me.”

“Like a computer putting data together and forming a composite,” I said.

“Amazing,” Patty said.

“It is,” Samantha said. “This Stan person, whoever he was, did me a huge favor.”

“And speaking of Stan,” I said, turning to look at Patty as she headed the car out of the downtown area toward where I assumed The Bookkeeper lived. “How do you two know each other?”

She actually blushed a little.

“Oh, this might be a good story,” Samantha said, laughing. “I don’t need sight to tell she’s blushing.”

Patty actually blushed some more at that, then glanced at me, more than likely trying to get a read on how much I really wanted to know.

“Spit it out,” I said, smiling at her.

“I met Stan about eighty years ago, at a club in a town called Garden City, up in Idaho. It was a gambling town on the edge of Boise at the time, full of nightclubs and card rooms and slot machines, before Idaho outlawed gambling of that type.”

“Eighty years?” I said, staring at her, shocked. “That means you are one of the gods?”

“No, of course not,” she said, smiling at me. “I’m at your level, only on the hotel management side. I help people who need help, just like you do.”

“What do they call you?” I asked, smiling at her. “Front Desk Girl.”

“Mostly just Patty,” she said, laughing. “But I like that. I might use it.”

“Explain the eighty years part,” Samantha said from the back seat. “I have a sense you’re only in your mid-thirties, not ninety or more.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t know us superhero-types lived that long.”

“No one’s told you that yet, huh?” she said, smiling at me. “It’s one of the benefits of the job. You’re still new at this stuff. You’ll learn.”

The idea that I might live for a hundred years and look the same sort of stunned me.

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