The glass castle: a memoir

(Wang) #1

WE LIVED IN LAS VEGAS for about a month, in a motel room with
dark red walls and two narrow beds. We three kids slept in one, Mom
and Dad in the other. During the day, we went to the casinos, where Dad
said he had a sure-fire system for beating the house. Brian and I played
hide-and-seek among the clicking slot machines, checking the trays for
overlooked quarters, while Dad was winning money at the blackjack
table. I'd stare at the long-legged showgirls when they sashayed across
the casino floor, with huge feathers on their heads and behinds, sequins
sparkling on their bodies, and glitter around their eyes. When I tried to
imitate their walk, Brian said I looked like an ostrich.


At the end of the day, Dad came to get us, his pockets full of money. He
bought us cowboy hats and fringed vests, and we ate chicken-fried steaks
in restaurants with ice-cold air-conditioning and a miniature jukebox at
each table. One night when Dad had made an especially big score, he
said it was time to start living like the high rollers we had become. He
took us to a restaurant with swinging doors like a saloon. Inside, the
walls were decorated with real prospecting tools. A man with garters on
his arms played a piano, and a woman with gloves that came up past her
elbows kept hurrying over to light Dad's cigarettes.


Dad told us we were having something special for dessert—a flaming
ice-cream cake. The waiter wheeled out a tray with the cake on it, and
the woman with the gloves lit it with a taper. Everyone stopped eating to
watch. The flames had a slow, watery movement, rolling up into the air
like ribbons. Everyone started clapping, and Dad jumped up and raised
the waiter's hand above his head as if he'd won first prize.


A few days later, Mom and Dad went off to the blackjack table and then
almost immediately came looking for us. Dad said one of the dealers had
figured out that he had a system and had put the word out on him. He
told us it was time to do the skedaddle. We had to get far away from Las
Vegas, Dad said, because the Mafia, which owned the casinos, was after
him. We headed west, through desert and then mountains. Mom said we

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