e the "point."
The player continued to roll until either the point came up again, a
pass, or a 7 was rolled, a no pass. All players could bet on every roll.

Custom required that a player continue rolling until he or she did not
pass. The dice were then pushed to the next player in turn around the
table. There were many different bets, simple and complicated. You
could bet that a player would pass or not pass or that a number would
be rolled before a 7. The complicated bets had large payoffs and
correspondingly smaller chances of winning. The simplest bet had the
best odds, winning just under 50% of the time. If you played only the
bets with the best odds, you could consider the house edge as a 2%
charge for hosting the game and keeping it honest. You would lose if
you played long enough. But you could get ahead and quit. Maybe.

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.

"Good time--if you don't get into it too deep. Have a few drinks, check
out the ladies. Lot of money flying around. They have these hard-nosed
dudes called 'pit bosses' that keep an eye on things, head off trouble
. . . I usually go on a travel package for a couple of nights. They're
a good deal; the casinos subsidize them. I take all the money I feel
like blowing off and one credit card in case I get stuck or something.
You going?"

"I was thinking about it," Oliver said. "I've been learning how to play
craps."

"Yeah, craps, the best. _Down on the boardwalk_ . . ."

Oliver made a reservation at Bally's and considered what to wear. A
plaid shirt and jeans weren't going to do it; there was something
significant and ceremonial about this trip. He had a summer linen suit
that he'd worn to his sister's wedding, years ago. He bought a mulberry
colored T-shirt to wear under the jacket. He wanted to look like a
star,