Walking Disaster

“We’re just going to book a flight to Vegas,” Shepley said, still trying to process the situation.

“Yep.”

Shepley walked over to open America’s door to let her and Abby in on the passenger side, and then slammed it shut, blank faced. “I’ve never been to Vegas.”

An impish grin pulled one side of my mouth to the side. “Looks like it’s time to pop that cherry.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

You Win Some, You Lose Some

ABBY BARELY SPOKE WHILE WE PACKED, AND EVEN LESS on the way to the airport. She stared off into space most of the time unless one of us asked her a question. I wasn’t sure if she was drowning in despair, or just focused on the looming challenge ahead.

Checking in to the hotel, America did all the talking, flashing her fake ID, as if she had done it a thousand times before.

It occurred to me, then, that she probably had done it before. Vegas was where they had procured such flawless IDs, and why America never seemed to worry about what Abby could handle. They’d seen it all before, in the bowels of the city of sin.

Shepley was an unmistakable tourist, his head leaned back, gawking at the ostentatious ceiling. We pulled our luggage into the elevator, and I pulled Abby to my side.

“You okay?” I asked, touching my lips to her temple.

“I don’t want to be here,” she choked out.

The doors opened, revealing the intricate pattern of the rug that lined the hallway. America and Shepley went one way, Abby and I the other. Our room was at the end of the hall.

Abby shoved the card key into the slot, and then pushed open the door. The room was large, dwarfing the king-size bed in the middle of the room.

I left the suitcase against the wall, pressing all the switches until the thicker curtain separated to reveal the busy, blinking lights and traffic of the Las Vegas Strip. Another button pulled away a second set of sheer curtains.

Abby didn’t pay attention to the window. She didn’t even bother to look up. The glitter and gold had lost its luster for her years before.

I set our carry-on bags on the floor and looked around the room. “This is nice, right?” Abby glared at me. “What?”

She opened her suitcase in one motion, and shook her head. “This isn’t a vacation, Travis. You shouldn’t be here.”

In two steps, I was behind her, crossing my arms around her middle. She was different here, but I wasn’t. I could still be someone she could count on, someone who could protect her from the ghosts of her past.

“I go where you go,” I said against her ear.

She leaned her head back against my chest and sighed. “I have to get on the floor. You can stay here or check out the Strip. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“I’m going with you.”

She turned to face me. “I don’t want you there, Trav.”

I didn’t expect that from her, especially not the cold tone of her voice.

Abby touched my arm. “If I’m going to win fourteen thousand dollars in one weekend, I have to concentrate. I don’t like who I’m going to be while I’m at those tables, and I don’t want you to see it, okay?”

I brushed her hair from her eyes, and then kissed her cheek. “Okay, Pidge.” I couldn’t pretend to understand what she meant, but I would respect it.

America knocked on the door and then traipsed in wearing the same nude number she wore to the date party. Her heels were sky high, and she had put on two extra layers of makeup. She looked ten years older.

I waved to America, and then grabbed the extra card key off the table. America was already building Abby up for her night, reminding me of a trainer offering a pep talk to his fighter before a big boxing match.

Shepley was standing in the hall, staring at three trays of half-eaten food on the floor left there by guests across the hall.

“What do you want to do first?” I asked.

“I’m definitely not marrying you.”

“You’re f**king hilarious. Let’s go downstairs.”

The elevator door opened, and the hotel came alive. It was like the hallways were the veins, and the people were its lifeblood. Groups of women dressed like  p**n  stars, families, foreigners, the occasional bachelor party, and hotel employees followed each other in organized chaos.

It took a while to get past the stores that lined the exits and reach the boulevard, but we broke out onto the street and walked until we saw a crowd gathered in front of one of the casinos. The fountains were on, performing to some patriotic song. Shepley was mesmerized, seemingly unable to move while he watched the water dance and spray.

We must have caught the last the two minutes, because the lights soon dimmed, the water fizzled, and the crowd immediately dispersed.

“What was that about?” I asked.

Shepley still stared at the now calm pond. “I don’t know, but it was cool.”

The streets were lined with Elvis, Michael Jackson, showgirls, and cartoon characters, all readily available to take a picture for a price. At one point, I kept hearing a flapping noise, and then I pinpointed where it was coming from. Men were standing on the sidewalk, snapping a stack of cards in their hands. They handed one to Shepley. It was a picture of a ridiculously big-breasted woman in a seductive pose. They were selling hookers and strip clubs. Shepley tossed the card to the ground. The sidewalk was covered in them.

A girl walked past, eyeing me with a drunken smile. She carried her heels in her hand. As she ambled by, I noticed her blackened feet. The ground was filthy, the foundation for the glitz and glamour above.

“We’re saved,” Shepley said, walking over to a street vendor selling Red Bull and whatever liquor you could imagine. Shepley ordered two with vodka, and smiled when he took his first sip. “I may never wanna leave.”

I checked the time on my cell phone. “It’s been an hour. Let’s head back.”

“Do you remember where we were? Because I don’t.”

“Yeah. This way.”

We retraced our steps. I was glad when we finally ended up at our hotel, because in truth I wasn’t exactly sure how to get back, either. The Strip wasn’t hard to navigate, but there were a lot of distractions along the way, and Shepley was definitely in vacation mode.

I searched the poker tables for Abby, knowing that’s where she would be. I caught a glimpse of her caramel hair; she sat upright and confident at a table full of old men, and America; the girls were a stark contrast from the rest of those camped out in the poker area.

Shepley waved me over to a blackjack table, and we played a while to pass the time.

Half an hour later, Shepley nudged my arm. Abby was standing, talking to a guy with olive skin and dark hair, in a suit and tie. He had her by the arm, and I immediately stood.

Shepley grabbed my shirt. “Hold up, Travis. He works here. Just give it a minute. You might get us all kicked out if you don’t keep your head.”

I watched them. He was smiling, but Abby was all business. He acknowledged America, then.

“They know him,” I said, trying to read their lips to figure out the distant conversation. The only thing I could make out was have dinner with me from the douche in the suit, and Abby saying I’m here with someone.

Shepley couldn’t hold me back this time, but I stopped a few feet away when I saw the suit kiss Abby’s cheek.

“It was good to see you again. See you tomorrow . . . five o’clock all right? I’m on the floor at eight,” he said.