Chapter 18

“Congratulations, gentlemen,” intones the smallest of the large men, who easily still outweighs George and I together, probably along with the cocktail waitress.

“That’s a big win for nickels,” affirms the larger of his two large partners. His neck is bigger around than my waist. “We just need to see some ID, please, and we’ll get you fellas squared away.”

“Of course,” I say, taking care to fish the Connecticut driver’s license rather than the Colorado one out of my wallet. I repeat the mantra of Binh Vo’s birthday in my head, February 28th, 1969, as I hand over the laminated card. Makes me twenty-two. “Can’t be too careful, and all that. We understand.”

He barely even glances at “my” ID. “Thank you,” he says, handing it back. He turns to George. Patiently; nobody’s demeanor is accusatory in the least. Says, “Sir?”

“Who, me?” George says. “You need to see mine, too?”

“Please. Video says you’re our winner.”

Video? So much for that idea.