Beyond the miniaturizer were doors of various sizes, as I've already mentioned. I went through the foot-tall one, went down a staircase, and found myself on a conveyor belt. It wasn't miniaturized, but actually looked like the kind of thing you find in a supermarket checkout. It looked cheap and clumsy, but what did I expect? A little train station or something? The miniaturizer hadn't been part of the casino when it had been built, so all of this stuff had been added later. Of course they went the cheapest route.
As I moved down the main corridor, I noticed the lighting was being supplied by little Christmas tree bulbs set into the walls. Also, I thought I saw someone standing up ahead, but as I approached, I saw it was really just a Barbie doll dressed in a Sidewinder uniform. Her arm had been posed to hold something, and as I got closer, I saw it was a little handwritten sign that said, "Remember to smile!"
Beth's idea of a joke, I imagined, smiling despite myself.
A series of interconnected belts carried me along for a while as they circled around under the casino. There were several branches, each clearly marked. In a few minutes of traveling, I came to the door for table R6, and went through. This took me to an elevator like the one I'd used back in the practice room. With some trepidation, I climbed aboard, hit the button, and rose to my station.
When I emerged, I saw there was another woman there, so I waited while she finished her performance. While the ball bounced around, seeking its number in the wheel, she glanced back and saw me. "Hey," she said, approaching me. "I guess you're the lucky one they called in. I'm Veronica Myers."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Ashley Richardson," I told her, shaking her hand. She was tall, blonde, and very muscular, and I suspected she was into bodybuilding. "Sorry if I'm late," I said.
"No, you're right on schedule," she told me with a smile. Curiously, though she bore no trace of a British accent, she spoke that last word like someone from England would, as if it were spelled "shedule." "Is this your first time?"
"Yeah," I admitted sheepishly. "I've never been this small before!"
"Oh, a complete rookie!" she laughed. "I remember my first time! Don't worry, this is a low-stakes table. You can make all the mistakes you want. You might even get more tips that way!"
"I hope so," I said. "I'll probably be rich before the night's over, then!"
She chuckled and stepped onto the elevator platform. "Well, good luck, Ashley. Knock 'em dead!" And then she was gone.
I turned around and looked out at the gigantic roulette table. It was exactly like the practice one, except there were people here, giant people towering over me. And, instead of the walls that had surrounded me in the practice room, this time it was open. The casino seemed to stretch out into the distance in all directions, the sheer size of it making me feel smaller than ever.
With a whoosh the roulette ball appeared next to me. I turned and picked it up, trying to control my shaking hands, and turned around, a huge, totally fake smile painted on my face.
"Hello there, new girl," said a gambler, his gigantic eyes looking down on me from above, grinning as he stared at me. "You're a cute little one. What's your name?"
"Ashley!" I yelled at him, trying my best to sound cheerful and happy, despite the fact that I was gulping down a fresh helping of fear. "What can I do for you tonight, sir?"
"Well, Ashley, I've been having the worst luck," he said amiably. "I've been waiting for Veronica to leave and take my bad luck with her. Pick a color, would you?"
"Sure!" I called up to him, trying to look interested. "How about black?"
"All right, black it is," he replied. "Now give the ball a good spin for me!"
I laughed and set the ball down on the platform, where I started it spinning with a flick of my wrists. Seeing this, the croupier said, "Final bets!" A few people set down chips, and then he spun the wheel and looked back at me, which was my cue to go. I kicked the ball playfully, and it rolled off the platform, down the sides, and bounced around in the wheel.
"Black!" I cheered, watching from my spot as the ball kicked around, finally coming to rest in a black tray.
"Thanks, Ashley!" said the gambler, smiling at me. I looked out into the distance and watched him collect his payoff, a hundred-dollar chip. He reached over to my tip slot and dropped a fiver in.
I thanked him, smiling demurely and giving him my best puppy-dog look, which drew a laugh. He withdrew into the crowd, making room for the next gambler to take his turn with me.
And so it went. I did every demeaning, humiliating thing you can think of throughout my shift, including a half-dozen climbs down to place chips for people. I even stood on some chips one time and let the gambler push me into place, and I was so worried about losing my balance I didn't have time to think about how close his gigantic fingers were to my little body.
I never let anyone carry me back to my station, though. No matter how embarrassing it was to stick my ass into the air and climb back to the platform, I decided I'd rather do that than be picked up again.
It was about an hour into my shift when I got a real surprise. I had just bowled the ball of the edge and was looking around at the half-dozen or so gamblers when I noticed a familiar face. It was Mark! Oh, geez, I thought, he couldn't resist coming down here to see me like this, could he? How long has he been standing there? Did he watch me wave my butt around when I climbed back to the platform?
To my horror, he stepped up to the table and set down some chips, glancing over at me casually. Our eyes met, but he didn't smile or anything like that. Actually, he seemed to look relieved, which seemed like an odd reaction to me. Oh well, at least he wasn't grinning or laughing.
He gambled tentatively, and it was obvious he was waiting his turn to get to talk to me. I forced myself to smile and laugh through my annoyance. Was he back to his old self? Did he just want to come and leer at my tiny body? No, that didn't seem right. He wasn't really looking over at me all that much, and besides, the last time he'd come here it was to deliver a message. That must be why he's here, I thought.
When his turn finally came, he stepped up close to me. "Hi," he said, looking somewhat sheepish.
"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" I yelled, as though he were just any other gambler. God, I felt stupid!
"I have to ask you something," he said casually, looking down at me. "Can I whisper it?"
"Certainly, sir!" I agreed, wondering what he was up to.
He leaned close to me. Damn, his face was huge! When he spoke, his breath washed over me like a hot wind. "I lost the feed," he told me. "I can't see or hear you on the monitors."
Oh, crap, that was just great! He'd warned me about that when I first got shrunk. Something about the transmission waves being compressed too much. "What are you going to do?"
"For now, I'm just going to stay here," he answered. "But I'll have to move to a closer hotel to pick up the signal."
Damn! It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have to spend the evening watching me perform. Knowing he could see out my eyes wasn't nearly as embarrassing as having him standing there, just a few feet away, seeing me in all my eleven inches of glory.
He pulled away, and I pretended like he'd asked me to lob the ball out onto the wheel. He placed a bet, I flung the metal sphere, and he lost his money. After that, he drifted back, just watching and not participating.
At least having him keeping an eye on me had one beneficial effect. I was so annoyed at having him there, I forgot to be afraid of being so small.