Books: Money Shot by Brian Rouff

Net gain

By John Ziebell

The main complaint locals have about novels set in our city is that most fiction doesn't accurately reflect an environment where more than a million people act the same way folks do in "normal" places--going to work, raising families and watching reality TV. On the other hand, Las Vegas is simply not normal, no matter how much we wish it so. I recently got a handful of nickels at Green Valley Ranch Station, as vendors are not allowed to use dimes to make change--because there are no dime slot machines on the property. We might not all live or work in casinos, but there's no escaping the influence of the city's largest legal industry.

One of the most appealing elements of Brian Rouff's first novel, Dice Angel, is its insightful treatment of the city itself. Rouff offers a credible take on the trials and tribulations of average people who, through no fault of their own, inhabit a somewhat mythical place. The novel's perspective is broad enough and funny enough to be believable at all levels. While casino culture doesn't play as essential a role in his second book, Money Shot, Las Vegas and its contradictions certainly provide a perfect backdrop for a story that hinges on chance

Money Shot protagonist Alan Nichols is an upper-echelon hack at the city's biggest ad agency, the ultimate nice guy and team player. He's financially comfortable and happily married but, with advancing years, feeling the creep of uncertainty--that middle age thing. Still, Nichols is not the kind of guy who wakes up one morning and buys a Ducati Monster; he's passive enough to wait for change to find him. Which it quickly does, in the form of the Bigg Fizz Million Dollar Challenge.

Bigg Fizz is an upstart contender in the soft drink market--"It tastes like a cross between grapefruit juice and baby aspirin," Nichols reflects at one point--and a lucky bottle cap plugs our hero into the fantasy of the company's ad campaign. By chance, he's won the opportunity to attempt a three-point basket during halftime at the NCAA Regionals. If Nichols makes the shot, he goes home with a million dollars; if he chokes, he becomes the current poster child for that old agony of defeat. We're not surprised when Nichols does just what we'd expect from any rational, red-blooded guy: He quits his job, hires a private coach and begins planning to get rich in that most American of ways--not by working hard, or even inheriting bucks, but by luck.

Nichols is surrounded by a band of likable followers for whom we wish only the best; besides a predictably charming wife and daughter, these include his trainer, Angela, a former college All-American from Detroit, and his friend Jason, on board as a manager of sorts. The villains are corporate dorks rather than thugs, greedy and self-centered but never frightening. Rouff's jocular first-person narration is entertaining and usually on the mark in terms of humor, but the problem with so successful a voice is it prevents us from treating issues that arise--from perceived improprieties to real injustice--with any seriousness whatsoever.

Sure, the novel is based on a playful premise. Yes, the Nichols family might be a bit too perfect. Still, becoming a millionaire is not easy. Nichols faces a catalogue of minor catastrophes and inconveniences, a list of troubles that serve mainly to signal how much more could conceivably go wrong. But no matter what's supposed to be at stake, we're never really worried that anything heinous will befall our quirky, personable cast of characters. And while hitting a three-point shot seems like a yes/no proposition, Rouff does come up with an unexpected and engaging ending that fits pretty seamlessly into the rest of the story. Remember that sometimes, even in real life, things just work out for the best. Why argue?