The stakes could be as high as you wanted. This appealed to Oliver. He liked the financial Russian roulette quality: win or die. He withdrew everything but twenty dollars from his bank account.
On his way back from the bank, he stopped at Deweys. It was fun drinking a pint of Guinness with six thousand dollars in his pocket. Mark was there, celebrating another executive placement.
"Chemical sales. Houston, poor bastard."
"You ever go to Atlantic City?"
"Sure, man." Mark snapped his fingers. "Down on the boardwalk . . . boardwalk."
"Where did you stay?"
"Bally's, most of the time."
"What was it like?"
"Bally's?"
"No, I mean the whole thing," Oliver said.