By mid-morning, I finish writing up Dick's interview, which never happened, of course. Made it up from a bit of history I got from Louise and three partial thoughts he gave me on paper.

Tan calls and asks if we can get together again tonight. Tell him no. When he asks why, I say I have a previous engagement. "Come on," says Tan, "I can meet you there and you can introduce me to your friends."

"Only one is my friend, Tan," I tell him. "The rest barely stay out of trouble. Not your kind of crowd, so. . . ."

"Then I should come along to provide protection," says Tan. "What's the name of the place? I'll meet you there just after five."

Chuckle and say, "You couldn't protect those guys even if they accepted your offer, Tan. Besides, I'm not looking to make trouble tonight. The answer is no. Good-bye."

While Annette types Dick's interview, sketch a layout with a title, a subtitle, two blow-up quotes and six photos. Finished, re-do it in black ink. Hand the layout to Annette and ask her to make two copies of the layout and the interview.

"Would you like me to put the original and two copies in separate envelopes, or all in the same envelope?" asks Annette.

"Separate envelopes," I tell her. "Hold on to the original and one copy. Give me an envelope with the other copy to take with me, please. I'll be out at the warehouse and then at the film developers most of the day."

When Annette hands me the envelope a few minutes later, she says, "It's Tan on your line, Jill. Shall I tell him you're gone?" Nod, and she tells him.

Ask, "Am I too abrupt when I ask you to do things, Annette?"

She looks at me with a slight smile, and says, "No. You are a forceful, energetic woman. You may be stubborn and insistent but you are effective and you have a big influence around here." Pausing, she leans toward me and adds, "You're an inspiration to me and other women. It is a pleasure to work with you, Jill."

As we share that extended look, I say, "Thank you."

"You are welcome," says Annette.

On my way to the warehouse in my '53 Chevy pickup, I think about Annette's words. Decide they make no difference.

Walk into the warehouse and see Sam Bowles lovingly polishing a wooden display box, probably for a famous old handgun. "Hey Sam, do I piss you off, the way I work?"

"Damn right you do, all the time," he says. "Hey, you only want to photograph guns that will be in the museum when it opens, right?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Dick Scope has us cleaning up the most valuable pieces for sale at auction—one of the high-class auction houses."

"You mean the Hickock, Earp and Masterson pieces?"

"Yeah, even the Jesse James and William Bonny stuff."

Peter has already begun selling assets. "No, there's no reason to shoot those too, Sam. Thanks anyway for the tip."

He doesn't respond, absorbed in the inspection of the box's velvet lining.

Wander back to the gun storage area, looking about me. Within a year, this warehouse will be empty—all the assets sold. Shake my head. Some of the pieces are one-of-a-kind antiques from a by-gone era. Hear the voices of Tom and Penny, see the bright lights from the photographic equipment, so I walk back there.

That afternoon in Carson City, stop for a burger and then pick up the two sets of negatives and all the prints. Buy a big mailer and stuff the envelope with the typed pages, the layout and one complete set of photos—especially the ones of Dick looking angry. Drive to the main Post Office downtown and rush the package to Peter.

Back at Doc's Place, walk into Dick Scope's office and drop an envelope on his desk. This one contains the negatives and two sets of prints from the second roll of film. "The draft of your interview and my proposed layout are in there too, Dick," tell him as he peeks into the envelope. "Let me know when you want me to send it to the printer." Walk to the door.

"Just a moment," says Dick.

Pause, half-turning to look at him.

"Stop by tomorrow morning for my comments. When will the November-December issue be delivered?"

"Monday."

"Bring it to me for review before it's distributed."

"I understand," I tell him and walk over to Morty's office. Walk around next to him and park my ass against his credenza.

Morty is reviewing lists of names, comparing them to shift rosters. A short list has the title `Definite.' A longer list is `Possible.' The title of the longest list is `Keep.' Morty does not attempt to hide the pages. He turns his chair to face me, leans back and asks, "Finish that project for Dick?"

With a slight nod, I say, "Kevin tells me he has Dick's go-ahead on some Slot promotions. He's hiring a few people in Marketing."

Morty glances at the pages, then looks at me and nods slowly. "We'll probably buy the silver-dollar Buick." When he sees my frown, he continues, "Some guy in California bought it at auction years ago and restored it, did a nice job. It's a blue Buick station wagon covered in hand-tooled leather and several hundred silver dollars. We'll put a cowboy and a cowgirl out on Virginia Street with the Buick to attract people into coming in and looking at the gun collection. They'll pass through the casino."

"Sounds tacky," I tell him.

He smiles. "Oh, it is but what the hell. At least, we're doing something. Kevin will hire a couple pretty ladies to work the local motels. They hand out flyers for us and we give the motel owners a kickback. Have those ladies ride the charter busses and trains here from the Sacramento Valley and the Bay Area, passing out tickets to visit the gun collection and historic Doc's Place."

"Street-level marketing."

"Right, but again, it's more than we've been doing."

"They work the flights into Reno from Washington, Oregon, Canada and so on?"

Morty shakes his head. "Not our market. Limousines, taxis or shuttles meet those people and take them to the Grand or Tarrant's or up to one of the upscale hotel-casinos at Lake Tahoe. We'll hook a few walking the street, trying to catch some fresh air before jumping back into a game or the slot machines here or back there."

"Get them into Doc's Place and then try to keep them here for as long as possible."

Nodding, he says, "Called the `stick' factor. How long will a patron stick with Doc's Place before walking out again? We live and breathe that stuff. So do Glenn's and Kevin's people."

"When the gun collection does open and the Buick is parked out front, buy mailing lists of those high-end patrons. Send them a free pass to see the gun collection. They'll come lookin' for it."

He stares at me for a moment, then leans forward, stabs the speaker button on his telephone and calls Kevin. They chat about the price of such lists compared against the number of patrons such a promotion might bring in to Doc's Place. They decide it's worth doing.

"Good idea, Morty," says Kevin.

"Jill's idea," he says. "We were just talking. In fact, she's sitting right here."

"Hey Jill," calls Kevin through the phone, "can you take a few color prints of the silver-dollar Buick? The guy who restored it will be here Tuesday and Wednesday."

"Can do."

"Oh, Louise was over here a few minutes ago looking for you," says Kevin before he disconnects.

Standing slowly, I look at Morty. He is watching me. "See you Saturday, Morty."

Morty grins and says, "Thanks for the idea, Jill." He hunches over the pages once more.

Louise is not in her office so I walk down to my office. Find her standing in there, waiting, leaning against the drafting table. Arms folded, she's looking at the floor.

Get the keys from Annette and unlock the cabinet to check my stock of film: plenty of 50 ASA black-and-white and color slide film, but no color print film. Write 100 and 200 ASA on a purchase requisition form, one of a stack that Dick in Purchasing gave me.

"What is that thing?" Louise asks, pointing.

"Light table," I tell her as I lock the cabinet and then toss the keys to Annette, who snatches them in mid-air. Leaning against a table, I add, "For close-up shots."

"Why do you need such powerful lamps?"

"The lamps provide 3200 degrees Kelvin which appears as white light on tungsten film to capture the fine gradations of color on chips and playing cards."

"Where did you learn all this, Jill?"

Shrug. "What do you want, Louise?"

"I've hired an HR manager, name of Marion Drull. He starts Monday."

"Dick Scope like him?"

She nods, looking at the floor. "He attended high school in Reno, but left to get a degree and work in California. He's looking forward to moving back here with his family." After a pause, she looks at me and asks, "Jill, why do you always leave work a few minutes before five every day?"

Stare at her, waiting. When she opens her mouth to speak, I ask, "There a point to this question, Louise?"

"Dick says we may be cutting back. He's looking at who puts in a full schedule for the good of the club. I'm afraid he's looking for any reason to let you go, Jill."

"He won't have to look hard and it needn't be about my hours."

"What do you mean?"

Picking up the Chevy keys, I ask, "Anything else? I want to leave while it's still a few minutes before five."

"Why are you behaving like this?"

"Got shit to do, Louise," I tell her, snapping off the light. "I'm a busy woman. See you tomorrow." As I walk by Annette, my wink gets a smile.

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