A Progressive Jackpot

A PROGRESSIVE JACKPOT

The thing about loose rings is that you rarely notice when they fall off. Take Miles Grennan over there, sitting by the corner of the pool table. Say he misplaces a certain ring a Mrs Grennan is matching with; he is sure to search for it like any good husband. That ring is a testimony to their relationship. Or so you would think. For the pool-addicted man, that is unlikely because Miles Grennan hasn’t loved his wife for thirteen years. Look closely. He doesn’t have a single ring on any of his fingers. He lost it the first year he stopped loving her. Sad way to represent a marriage, isn’t it? Let’s use another example.

Hilary Lorne, a withering woman of seventy-eight, situated at the slot machine, has worn her wedding ring for fifty-two years. Just last week, it went missing due to unknown circumstances. Hilary Lorne is the type of woman who yells at children when they pick leaves off her overgrown bushes or at cashiers when the receipt prints too slowly at the store. She is what my nephew, Jamie, calls a ‘Karen’. Though I have little understanding of youth slang, I agree with him. I’d like you to visualise Hilary Lorne in the casino on the day she lost her wedding ring. Possibly the only thing she cares about save for money and gambling, the casino’s resident ‘Karen’ proceeded to accuse every casino worker of theft. Sometimes I wonder how her husband deals with her. Then, I am reminded of this very instance and conclude he merely does not.

Then there is Harlow Chen. He’s standing next to Miles Grennan at the pool table. The boy is nearly two metres high with more rings on his fingers than his odds of winning at the casino. (Not that those odds are hard to beat.) I’ve never asked Harlow Chen why a young man like himself likes to gamble, but I surmise it adds to the mysterious gangster complex he wishes upon himself. I suspect he’d have me in a chokehold if I questioned him, a chokehold full of rings. An exciting, young (but notoriously bad) man like him would seem like the wrong candidate for someone who loses their rings. Given his attention to purchasing a dozen for each finger, it would be most unlike him. But sometimes I make assumptions, and truthfully, Harlow Chen has lost the same amount of rings he buys. (A total of twenty-four, if you were wondering.) You’d think he’d learn to look after them. 

Over at the head of the Blackjack table sits Bryah Swymmer. They call her the queen of Blackjack at the casino. It started as a racist insult (though whoever came up with it didn’t think very hard) since she was the only African-American person on the table, but she soon earned enough respect for the name to become feared and idolised. Perhaps her womanhood had something to do with the insults as well. Nevertheless, Bryah Swymmer has never needed someone else to defend her. She also has never lost a ring at the casino. Ah, but my memory precedes me. Bryah Swymmer has lost one before. A shiny, fourteen-carat gold ring that was a family heirloom. She suspected the other players around the table for taking it when she momentarily took it off to shuffle the cards. Bryah Swymmer is a hand-shuffler. That is always how it has been. Besides her reputation, I believe the only reason the appointed queen comes back is to win back or find the lost ring. She is a very ambitious woman, Bryah Swymmer.

We’ll have a momentary break now. Let me tell you about my nephew Jamie some more. How shall we go about this? Well, I can tell you, he looks older than he seems. A spritely age of eighteen but has the appearance of a twenty-one-year-old. He played the piano for eleven years, so I suspect he has nimble fingers. He’d be mighty good at dealing cards. What else is there for me to say? He’s good with his peers and probably with romantic interests as well. He once told me he “picks up all the gals and guys”, so I assume that is what he meant. Ah, right. Jamie is very good at getting his way. My brother believes he was born as a con artist in another life. Be it sweet talk that oozes like expired honey or manipulative blackmail-laced words, my nephew gets in. He has a strong taste for jewellery as well. He gets that from his mother. My sister-in-law, Mai, owns everything from pearl necklaces to crystal-studded bracelets, but she likes rings best. That’s a fitting way to tie things back to the casino, don’t you think?

Alright, back to business. Next is Syra. Syra is the only one whose surname I’m not aware of its origins. Don’t you think calling someone by their first and last name is polite? Perhaps it’s only me. Syra is a strange person. It has nothing to do with the vivid coloured clothing that’s out of place in the casino or the dragon tattoo that spirals down their back. They don’t speak. Instead, they prefer making animal-like, gibberish noises to communicate. But you’ll never catch Syra making a sound in poker. They’re very serious. Besides the beast impressions, Syra does have a tendency to lose things. A Bloody Mary coloured scarf, two silver rings and a leg of ham, just to name a few missing belongings. I do hope Syra never stops coming to the casino. They are a delight to watch. 

So, I assume you are wondering what I am like, considering I’ve observed the regulars of the casino. If you said a journalist with an eye for detail, I'd say you’re a little too cold. A statistical wonder in my workplace with the perfect memory would also be wrong. Isn’t it obvious? 

I’m a thief. A pickpocket. A stealer. A specific one, though, with taste for pretty rings. Where do you think Jamie gets the rings he likes so much? See, the twenty-nine rings I have accumulated act as a progressive jackpot. With every theft, my winnings increase. (Well, I have to thank Harlow Chen mostly for that.) It is such a delight watching their faces of confusion and distress when yet another ring is gone. I chuckle a little when I think of the aftermath for those sorry, little gamblers. Broken marriages are my favourite. Perhaps Miles Grennan and Hilary Lorne showed that. Though, this is just the casino. I have yet to show you the p- Ah, would you look at the time? The casino is closing. I’d best be off now. A young woman just dropped a shiny, stainless steel ring on her way out. I do hope my nephew will like it.