Chương 17: Las Vegas Trip V

December 1970 They continued strolling along the Strip at an unhurried pace. The evening had grown pleasantly cool, though nowhere near as cold as New York. A gentle breeze carried the sounds of laughter, live music, and the constant murmur of conversations spilling from hotel entrances. Every few hundred feet, another casino welcomed guests with flashing lights and smiling doormen. James noticed something interesting.

Unlike the Las Vegas he remembered decades later, many visitors weren't rushing from one attraction to another. People lingered. They admired the architecture. They stopped to watch the dancing fountains outside one resort or listened to musicians performing beneath another hotel's canopy. The city invited people to slow down. To enjoy themselves. Enzo suddenly stopped in front of one particularly elaborate display window. Inside stood an enormous Christmas village built entirely by hand.

Tiny trains wound through snow-covered mountains. Miniature houses glowed with warm lights. Small figurines skated across an artificial frozen pond. James stepped beside him.

"It's beautiful." Enzo nodded.

"It reminds me of something Claire used to build." James looked toward his grandfather.

"Grandma made Christmas villages?"

"Every December." A smile spread across Enzo's face as the memory returned.

"She'd spend nearly an entire week setting them up."

"Joseph loved helping her." He chuckled quietly.

"Although..."

"He usually spent more time moving the little trains around than actually decorating." James smiled.

"I probably would've done the same."

"Oh, I have no doubt." For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply admired the display while memories quietly settled between them. Eventually, Enzo broke the silence.

"Claire would've liked this city." James raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes."

"Not because of the casinos." He shook his head.

"Because she appreciated people who dreamed big." He gestured toward the skyline.

"Look around."

"Someone imagined all of this."

"Then convinced thousands of other people to believe in that dream." James followed his grandfather's gaze. Towering hotels. Brilliant signs. Crowds filling the sidewalks. He smiled.

"I never thought about it like that." Enzo placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Behind every successful business..."

"... there's someone who refused to believe something was impossible." Those words lingered with James. His grandfather didn't realize it. But he had just described exactly what Thompson Manufacturing had become over the past two months.

They resumed walking until they reached a pedestrian overlook that offered one of the best views of the boulevard. From there, nearly the entire Strip stretched before them. Automobiles moved steadily beneath a sea of neon. Hotel marquees flashed endlessly. Searchlights swept slowly across the night sky, visible for miles across the desert. James leaned lightly against the railing.

"It almost doesn't feel real." Enzo nodded.

"I was thinking the same thing." He laughed softly.

"Imagine trying to explain this place to someone back in the little Italian village where I grew up." James smiled.

"They probably wouldn't believe you."

"They'd think I'd had too much wine." Both of them laughed.

After another half hour of sightseeing, they finally turned back toward the Silver Star Hotel. The lobby remained lively despite the late hour. Guests checked in at the reception desk while others gathered around the enormous Christmas tree, taking photographs and exchanging holiday greetings. The pianist was still performing quietly in the corner. This time, he played Silent Night. Enzo paused beside the tree.

"I almost forgot." James looked at him.

"What?"

"Tomorrow morning..."

"We don't have to wake up early." James laughed.

"I don't think you'll sleep late even if you try." Enzo sighed dramatically.

"Probably not."

"I've spent thirty years waking up before sunrise."

"My body wouldn't know what to do."

"You'll probably wake up at six anyway." Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"I'll probably wake up at five." James grinned.

"See?"

They rode the elevator to the eighth floor and made their way down the quiet hallway toward Room 814. Once inside, Enzo loosened his tie and placed the room key on the writing desk.

"My feet are reminding me that I'm fifty." James chuckled.

"I thought you said you were still young."

"I lied."

"You did." Enzo laughed as he sat in one of the armchairs.

"I walked farther today than I have in weeks." James looked out the window one last time. Even from the eighth floor, the city remained dazzling. The lights showed no sign of fading. Las Vegas seemed determined to remain awake until dawn. Behind him, Enzo turned on the television. The evening news had just ended, giving way to a Christmas special featuring holiday music and lighthearted comedy sketches. James watched for a few minutes before quietly walking to his suitcase.

He knelt beside it and opened it just enough to look inside. Folded neatly beneath several shirts... Still exactly where he had placed it... Lay the single sheet of paper containing the carefully handwritten instructions for tomorrow morning. He looked at it for only a second before closing the suitcase again. Not yet. Tomorrow. Everything would begin tomorrow. He climbed into bed shortly afterward, the sounds of the television filling the room.

Across from him, Enzo eventually switched off the set and turned out the lights.

"Good night, James."

"Good night, Grandpa." The room fell silent. Outside the window, the neon lights of Las Vegas continued painting the ceiling in shifting shades of blue, red, and gold. James stared into the darkness. His plan had been months in the making. By this time tomorrow... There would be no turning back. ☆☆☆☆ December 23, 1970 James awoke just after seven. Soft winter sunlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating the hotel room with a warm golden glow. Outside the window, the Las Vegas Strip looked almost peaceful.

The neon lights that had dominated the night before had given way to ordinary traffic, hotel employees washing sidewalks, and delivery trucks making their morning rounds. For a few moments, he remained lying in bed. Today was the day. The first step of his Private Capital Plan. Not because of the wager itself. Because today he would ask Enzo to trust him with something no reasonable grandfather should ever agree to. Across the room, Enzo was already dressed.

He stood near the window with a cup of coffee in one hand and the morning edition of the Las Vegas Daily Chronicle in the other. Without looking away from the newspaper, he smiled.

"I was beginning to think I'd have breakfast without you." James stretched.

"What time is it?"

"Quarter past seven."

"You've slept longer than I expected." James laughed as he climbed out of bed.

"I guess yesterday tired me out."

"It tired both of us." Enzo folded the newspaper.

"I thought we'd have breakfast downstairs."

"I've heard the buffet is one of the hotel's best attractions."

"I'm convinced half the guests came here just for the food." James smiled.

"I wouldn't be surprised."

Nearly twenty minutes later, they entered the hotel's main dining room. The breakfast buffet occupied almost an entire wall. Fresh fruit. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Sausages. Pancakes. Hotcakes stacked high beneath warming lamps. Freshly baked pastries. Toast. Various cereals. Juices. Coffee. Even an omelet station where cooks prepared eggs to each guest's preference. Enzo surveyed the buffet with obvious approval.

"I take back every criticism I've ever made about hotel food." James laughed.

"That quickly?"

"I'm willing to admit when I'm wrong."

"You should appreciate this moment."

"It doesn't happen often." James couldn't help smiling. They filled their plates before choosing a quiet table near one of the large windows overlooking the boulevard. Morning sunlight poured through the glass, creating a calm atmosphere far removed from the excitement of the casino floor below. For several minutes, they simply enjoyed breakfast. Enzo sipped his coffee. James concentrated on a generous stack of hotcakes covered with butter and maple syrup. Eventually... James set his fork down.

"Grandpa..." Enzo looked up.

"Hm?"

"I need a favor from you." Enzo raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of favor?" He took another sip of coffee before adding with a grin,"I hope it isn't something crazy like that last bet." James smiled. Somehow... That smile immediately made Enzo suspicious. He lowered his coffee cup slowly.

"I don't know why..."

"... but that smile just gave me goosebumps, son." James chuckled.

"Nothing like that, Grandpa."

"I need your help with a future project of mine." Enzo leaned back slightly.

"A future project?"

"Care to elaborate?" James reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"I will."

"But not here." He carefully removed a folded sheet of paper along with a thick envelope. The envelope contained every dollar he had managed to save over the past several years. Birthday money. Allowances. Cash his parents had left in their bedroom before the accident. Exactly two thousand dollars. He slid both items across the table.

"Read this."

"But don't say anything that's written on the paper out loud." Enzo's expression immediately became more serious. He glanced briefly around the dining room. Guests were busy enjoying breakfast. No one paid the slightest attention to them. Even so, he appreciated James's caution. Without another word, he unfolded the paper. His eyes slowly moved from top to bottom. Then... He stopped. His eyebrows rose. He read the page again from the beginning. Slower this time. Finally, he looked back at James.

"This is..." He lowered his voice instinctively.

"... far too detailed." James remained calm.

"I know." Enzo looked down at the page once more. Four football games. Specific winners. Specific total points selections. A carefully written sequence of wagers. Precise instructions regarding the betting procedure. Even a note reminding him not to discuss the contents until afterward. It looked less like the work of a ten-year-old boy...... and more like something prepared by a professional gambler. He folded the paper again.

"Care to explain?" James smiled faintly.

"I will."

"But after we get home."

"Not here." Enzo studied his grandson's face for several long seconds. Then another question came to mind.

"Where did you get this money?" James answered immediately.

"My allowance."

"My birthday gifts."

"And..."

"... some cash Mom and Dad left inside their bedroom." Enzo stared at him. He knew exactly what James was referring to. After Joseph and Taylor's accident, there had indeed been a small amount of cash remaining among their personal belongings. Enzo had left it untouched, feeling it belonged to James whenever he became old enough to understand its value. Apparently... He already had. Enzo slowly exhaled.

"How much is in there?"

"Two thousand dollars." His grandfather blinked.

"Two thousand..." James nodded.

"I also need you to loan me another two thousand." For a brief moment... Enzo was completely speechless. ☆☆☆☆☆ Enzo looked from the envelope...... to the folded sheet of paper...... and finally back to James. For nearly half a minute, he said nothing. He had negotiated million-dollar military contracts. He had argued with bankers, lawyers, and government officials. Yet somehow... A ten-year-old boy sitting across the breakfast table had managed to leave him without a single immediate response.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair and let out a slow breath.

"James..."

"You're asking me to loan you two thousand dollars..."

"... so I can place a wager exactly as you've written it."

"Yes."

"And you're asking me to trust that every one of these selections is correct."

"Yes." Enzo couldn't help smiling.

"You certainly don't think small." James smiled back.

"I never have."

"No."

"You definitely haven't." Enzo tapped the folded paper lightly against the table.

"You know..."

"When you first asked to change Thompson Manufacturing..."

"I thought you were simply a remarkably intelligent child."

"Then came your idea about abandoning military production." He shook his head with a quiet laugh.

"Against every instinct I had."

"And now we're weeks away from shipping our first large civilian orders." James remained silent.

"You won that boxing wager in October."

"You've correctly predicted several business trends from newspapers."

"You've even helped improve products without ever pretending to know everything." Enzo narrowed his eyes slightly.

"And now..."

"... you hand me this." He looked down at the paper once more.

"I'll admit..."

"It's unsettling." James didn't answer immediately.

"I understand."

"No..."

"I don't think you do." Enzo smiled warmly.

"If someone else handed me this..."

"I'd assume they were either a fool..."

"... or a swindler." He looked directly into James's eyes.

"But you're neither." The words carried more weight than James expected. Enzo wasn't saying he believed the wager. He was saying he believed him. There was a difference. A very important one. Enzo picked up the envelope and weighed it in his hand.

"You've really saved all this?" James nodded.

"I've been planning this for a while."

"I can see that." Another silence settled between them. Finally... Enzo folded the paper carefully and slipped it inside the inner pocket of his jacket. Then he slid the envelope back across the table.

"Keep your money." James frowned.

"Grandpa—" Enzo raised a hand.

"I'm not finished." He smiled.

"When we leave this dining room..."

"We'll stop by my room safe."

"I'll take out four thousand dollars."

"Two thousand is your investment."

"The other two thousand is my loan." James opened his mouth to object. Enzo anticipated it.

"You will pay me back."

"Every dollar." James nodded immediately.

"Of course."

"I know you will." Enzo's expression softened.

"But understand something."

"I'm not doing this because I believe gambling is a good idea."

"I'm doing this because..." He paused.

"... you've earned my trust these past two months." James felt an unexpected tightness in his chest. Trust. That was worth more than the money. Far more. Enzo picked up his coffee again.

"However..." James smiled.

"There's a condition."

"There is."

"If this works..."

"When we get back to New York..."

"You're going to explain every single page of those calculations to me." James laughed.

"I already planned to."

"I suspected as much."

"And if it doesn't work..." James met his grandfather's eyes without hesitation.

"I'll accept full responsibility." Enzo studied him for another long moment before nodding once.

"Fair enough." He finished the last sip of his coffee.

"Well..." He stood, adjusting his suit jacket.

"Let's go make what may become either the smartest..."

"... or the most ridiculous Christmas decision of my entire life." James stood beside him with a grin.

"I think you'll like the outcome." Enzo laughed as they walked toward the dining room exit.

"That's exactly the kind of sentence that worries me." Neither of them noticed one of the waiters smiling as he cleared their table. To everyone else in the restaurant... They looked like nothing more than a grandfather taking his grandson out for another day of sightseeing in Las Vegas. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ They returned to their room briefly. Enzo walked directly to the wardrobe, reached toward the upper shelf, and unlocked the small metal safe the hotel had installed inside. He glanced over his shoulder with an amused smile.

"I wasn't expecting to open this for gambling money." James chuckled.

"Neither was I."

"That's a lie."

"It probably is." Enzo laughed quietly as he removed several neatly folded bundles of cash. Unlike James's savings, which had been accumulated over years of birthdays and allowances, these bills came directly from Enzo's personal checking account before they had left New York. He always carried extra cash while traveling. Credit cards existed, but many businesses still preferred checks or currency, especially outside one's home state. He counted twenty crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. Then another twenty.

Exactly two thousand dollars. Without hesitation, he handed the bundle to James.

"There."

"My loan." James accepted it carefully.

"I'll pay every cent back."

"I know." Enzo locked the safe once more before slipping both bundles of money into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Four thousand dollars..." He shook his head.

"I don't think I've ever carried this much cash simply to walk down the street." James smiled.

"I suppose today is full of firsts."

"It certainly is."

The two left the Silver Star Hotel and stepped back onto the Strip. Morning had given way to late morning, and the sidewalks had become noticeably busier than the day before. Tourists wandered between hotels carrying shopping bags. Taxi cabs continuously arrived beneath covered entrances. Delivery trucks unloaded supplies through discreet service entrances hidden from most visitors. Everything seemed to function like clockwork. Las Vegas lived on hospitality. Every employee appeared to understand that.

Enzo adjusted his coat as they walked.

"I've been thinking." James glanced toward him.

"About?"

"If this wager wins..."

"I'm not saying it will..."

"But if it does..."

"You'll suddenly have more money than many grown men." James nodded.

"I've thought about that too."

"And?"

"I don't plan to spend it." Enzo looked genuinely pleased.

"Good."

"I'll invest it." That answer surprised him even more.

"Invest it?" James nodded.

"Not immediately."

"But eventually." Enzo smiled.

"I had a feeling you'd say something like that."

A few blocks later, the massive sign of the Stardust Resort came into view. Even during daylight hours, it dominated the boulevard. The enormous structure reached high above neighboring buildings, decorated with hundreds of colorful stars that would illuminate brilliantly after sunset. Its entrance bustled with visitors arriving from every direction. Luxury automobiles stopped beneath the covered driveway while uniformed doormen greeted guests with practiced professionalism. James slowed slightly.

"There it is." Enzo followed his gaze.

"The famous Stardust."

"I suppose this is where our sightseeing takes an unusual turn." James laughed softly.

"I suppose it does."

The lobby rivaled anything they had seen the previous day. Polished marble floors stretched beneath enormous chandeliers. Fresh flowers decorated elegant sitting areas. Well-dressed guests moved calmly between restaurants, hotel elevators, and boutique shops. Nothing about the atmosphere suggested recklessness. If anything... It resembled an upscale business hotel. Only after walking deeper into the resort did the unmistakable sounds begin to emerge. The steady clinking of slot machines.

The spinning of roulette wheels. Cards sliding across green felt tables. The occasional burst of applause as someone celebrated a fortunate win. James quietly observed everything. Casinos in 1970 were remarkably different from those he remembered decades later. There were no flashing electronic displays. No computerized betting terminals. Everything operated manually. Cashiers counted bills by hand. Dealers managed every game personally.

Even the sportsbook functioned with paper, pencils, and experience rather than computers. Enzo looked around with genuine curiosity.

"I've never actually been inside a casino." James smiled.

"Neither have I." Technically... That was true. Not in this lifetime.

Following the signs marked SPORTS BOOK, they eventually reached a quieter section of the casino. The atmosphere immediately changed. Instead of rows of gaming tables, dozens of wooden counters lined one side of the room. Large chalkboards covered the walls behind them. Employees continuously updated point spreads, betting odds, and scheduled games using white chalk. Several men stood studying the boards with folded newspapers tucked beneath their arms.

Others sat at small tables carefully filling out betting cards with pencils provided by the sportsbook. It looked less like gambling...... and more like a financial exchange. Enzo let out a low whistle.

"I expected something..." He searched for the right word.

"More dramatic." James nodded.

"It feels surprisingly ordinary."

"It does." Near the entrance stood a wooden rack containing stacks of printed parlay cards. Each card listed the upcoming football games along with betting instructions printed on both sides. Enzo picked one up.

"So..." He looked toward James.

"This is where your little operation begins." James gave a single nod.

"Yes." For the first time since arriving in Las Vegas... The future was no longer days away. It was only a few steps in front of them.