The hotel had comped the suite, the buffet, and a bottle of something he never opened, because he had put $61,000 through the tables in fourteen months. At 5:40 on a Sunday morning he was outside it, on the curb by the service entrance, because he had walked out at two to clear his head and the head had not cleared.

A woman in a housekeeping uniform heading in for the 6 a.m. shift stopped, looked at him a while, and laid her jacket over his shoulders without waking him. The room key was in his pocket the whole time: a comped suite on the fortieth floor, warm and made up and waiting. When he woke he sat up holding the jacket and did not immediately stand.