After a few more rounds, Jack’s luck changed. Drastically. I knew he was cheating—that was the plan—but I have no idea what he did, only that he started winning big and winning often—too big and too often to be healthy. All eyes were already on us, with our role-playing, and he hadn’t won more than his sixth round before a beefy hand closed on his shoulder.

“A word with you…sir,” the guard rumbled.

“Sure,” Jack said. “If it’s congratulations.”

Another guard flanked him, and both took hold of his upper arms to escort him away.

“Oh no,” I moaned as I scampered after them. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack hissed over his shoulder.

“You promised!” I whacked him with my purse. “‘Not this time, babe,’ you said. ‘I’ll play straight, babe.’ You don’t know how to play straight, you no-good…”

And so we left the casino floor and headed for the security wing, Jack under armed guard and me running along behind them, alternately sobbing and railing. As we passed through the doors, a desk guard leapt up, probably to tell me to wait outside. Then he apparently decided this was one domestic dispute he didn’t want to get in the middle of, sat down and busied himself with his logbook.

It wasn’t until we hit the “holding” room that the guards stopped me, one stepping into my path as the other took Jack inside and closed the door. I didn’t try to follow, just snuffled and wiped my arm across my streaming nose.

“You can wait over there, ma’am,” the guard said. “He might be awhile.”

“I can’t believe he did this. He promised! This whole trip was for me, he said. ’Cause I’ve been so sick with the baby. For me, my ass. How could he—?” I clutched my stomach. “Oh, I don’t feel so good.”

“There’s a bathroom—”

“Uh-uh, if I start puking, I’ll never stop. I just need to sit down.”

He quickly pointed me to a small room. I spent only a couple of minutes in there, sniffling and moaning, then bolted for the door, hand over my mouth. The hall guard didn’t say a word, just got out of my way and waved in the direction of the washroom.

Once in the washroom, I did some retching, and tossed cupfuls of water into the toilet for effect, but I doubted the young guard came close enough to the door to appreciate my efforts. Still moaning and snuffling, I stood on the counter and wriggled the ceiling tile loose. Next I pulled the climbing gloves from my bra, and slid them on. Then I took out my key chain, unhooked my penlight, put it between my teeth and heaved myself up into the ceiling.