Having never seen Las Vegas in all its glory, I stood dumbfounded at the palisades, water fountains, tall ships and flashing lights that made up most of the Vegas Strip.
I vowed that in the next week, Charlie and I would return here at night when the neon lights shun the way through the streets.
The envelope in my hand bent in the wind, reminding me of my task. Walking with purpose, I made my way to the Bilagio, where among stalwart gamblers stood a hooded, dark skinned man. I was on him in a minute and said,
“Turk?”
“Who’s askin?” his voice was hoarse.
“Marcus is askin’” i replied simply.
The black man laughed, “You sho’ is prettier than he is,”
“Ya well, don’t get any ideas,”
“Whoa,” his hands went up, “Peace, sistah, i didn’t mean nothing by it; just sayin’ is all. Wass’he got fo’ me dis time?”
“This,” I showed him the envelope, “I’m supposed to wait for your answer,”
“Sho’ sho’, have it here,” he took it from my hand & opened it.
I turned my back for only a second, before I was knocked unconscious.