What Happens in Vegas

by Halliday, Gemma

  “Got it? Got what?” I blame it on the morphine drip that I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  “David, you got it! The lead chorus is yours, baby.”

  Would you believe I completely forgot about that? In all the Wisteria Lane-worthy drama playing out in the last twenty-four hours, something as small as getting the lead chorus position somehow fell through the cracks of my over-taxed little brain. But now, as Julio whoops into the phone with uncontained excitement, suddenly it’s become priority numero uno in a big way.

  “Ahhhhhhhh,” I scream. Causing the kitten clad nurse to peek her head in the door in alarm. “Ohmigod! You’re kidding, Julio. You so better not be kidding me.”

  “Babe, would I kid about something like this? You are the Jubilee chorus lead. How amazing is that?”

  Very. Considering I’m far from up to dancing.

  “But what about my arm?”

  “Don’t worry. They said to take your time getting better. They’ve brought Marc back in to cover for you in the meantime.”

  “I thought Marc was doing the new Evan Wilder movie?”

  “Well,” says Julio, putting on his dishy voice. “I heard from the wardrobe girl who heard from the junior choreographer who heard from the voice coach that she saw Marc come in groveling for his old job back. Apparently he and Evan had a bit of a lovers’ spat.”

  Poor Marc. Will the boy never learn? Never screw the man in charge of your employment.

  “So Marc’s filling in for now,” Julio continues, “and then it’s all yours baby.”

  If I weren’t wrestling with the overweight actress sitting on my chest, I’d get up and do a happy dance.

  “Anyway, I gotta go, I just wanted to let you know, David.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m so proud of you, David,” Julio says before he hangs up.

  And as I stare at poor Lucy in her chocolate haze, I’m pretty damn proud too. It’s a great feeling. One I haven’t felt in a long time.

  As I pop another cube of Jell-o into my mouth, I try to remember the last time I was this tickled pink over something. Would you believe, my mind latches onto the 1992 Mohave Dirt Bike Championships? Maybe because home’s been on my mind so much lately, or maybe just because it’s the last time I can remember really accomplishing something I’ve worked my ass off for, but it’s the same feeling of wanting to scream from the top of the Stratosphere, “Look at me everyone!”

  I remember my father’s face that day. Red with the sunburn of watching me practice all day, his eyes watery from the dust. But his smile extended from one end of his chubby face to the other as I took that last mogul and flew my bike across that finish line. He actually lifted me off the ground with a huge bear hug as I received my chrome trophy.

  A lump hits the back of my throat when I think of what my father would say if I shared this victory with him. Suffice to say, it wouldn’t be quite as sweet.

  I lean back in my pillows.

  It’s just not fair. I miss that. I’ve just got some of the best news of my life, and my parents should be happy for me. Maybe they would be happy for me. Maybe Julio’s right about that too. Maybe I have been shortchanging the ol’ luggs by keeping the truth from them. Julio took the truth about my past much better than I thought, maybe they can accept my present. Maybe it hasn’t been everyone else that can’t accept the real version of me. Maybe it’s been me.

  Before I have a chance to talk myself out of it, I pick up the phone and dial my parents’ number. Praying they’re not home and I can pull a chicken little at the last minute. I try not to picture my mother locking herself in her room with her crosses and praying for my eternal soul.

  It rings. Twice. Finally my mother picks up.

  “Hello?” she says. I falter at the sound her voice, so familiar and yet what I’m about to say will change the way she sees her son forever. I grab another Jell-o cube and gulp it down for courage.

  “Hello?” she says again.

  “Hi, Ma, it’s me. David.”

  “Davey, how nice to hear from you.”

  “Thanks.” I pause again, unsure what to say next. There are about a million things I want to tell her but I’m clueless how to start.

  “Oh baby, we had so much fun visiting with you. I was telling your father, we gotta go down there more often.”

  “Yeah, it was fun, Ma. Really fun.” A stabbing fear hits me that after this conversation she may not ever want to visit again. My dad may not ever play video poker with me, instead avoiding eye contact like he did with Marc.

  “Davey, is something wrong?” my mother asks.

  I remember when I was ten I fell off my dirt bike and broke my wrist. Mom went with me to the emergency room and afterwards baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies all for me. She sat on the sofa with me and watched movies all afternoon and never once told my dad that I had cried like a baby when the doctors set the bones. A sudden longing hits me to have my mother here.

  “I had an accident. But I’m okay,” I quickly add.

  “An accident. What kind of accident. Davey, where are you?”

  “I’m at Lake Mead Hospital. But I’m going home tonight. I’m going to be okay. Really.”

  “Oh my word!” I hear Mom cover the receiver and yell to my dad in the background. “Frank, Davey’s in the hospital. He had an accident.” I hear my father grunt a response, but I can’t hear what it is.

  “Really, Ma, I’m okay.”

  “Baby, do you want me to come down there?”

  “No, I’m going home tonight. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure? I hate the idea of you all alone in that apartment. Maybe I could come down for a couple days and help you out.” And just the fact that she offered makes me feel better already.

  “No, Ma, I’m okay. I’m… I’m actually not going home alone.” I take a deep breath, though not too deep to aggravate my ribs. I remind myself I beat Jason for the lead chorus position, I made up with Julio, I survived being a punching bag for a gang of local yahoos. I can survive this too. “That’s actually kind of why I called, Ma.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Um, I’m not going to be alone in the apartment. Julio, he isn’t my landlord. He lives with me.”

  “Oh. Your roommate?”

  I bite my lip. Almost ready to agree with her. Yep, he’s my roommate. Just my roommate. I like girls, like ‘em a lot, and Julio’s just my crazy effeminate roommate.

  “No, he’s, um actually…” And I can’t do it. That damn lump hits my throat again and I just can’t do it. I can’t jeopardize never hearing her voice again. Always having her look at me that way, out of the corner of her eye like she can’t trust me now. I can’t stand having my own mother think I’m going to hell. And she will. That’s where all of those people go, right?

  “Davey,” Mom says, very slowly and quietly, “what is it you want to tell me?”

  Suddenly I feel like I’m five years old again, confessing that it was me and not Dale who ate all the apple brown betty for the church bake sale. I can almost see my mother’s soft eyes and penciled in brows turning inward in concern. And before I can even think about it, I blurt it out.

  “I’m gay.”

  “You’re…” she trails off, obviously unable to say the word.

  “Gay,” I finish for her. “I’m gay.” You would think it would get easier to say a second and third time, but each time I say it the word it sticks in my throat.

  “You, you… like men?” she whispers.

  “Yeah, Ma. I do.”

  She’s quiet for along time, and I begin to worry she really has had a heart attack. Finally she simply says, “Oh.”

  I know I should stop now. Give her some time to digest the information. But now that I’ve said it, I feel the floodgates opening and suddenly I want her to know everything.

  “Mary’s not my girlfriend, she’s just a friend. And I had her come hang out with you guys because I had an audition for the lead chorus positi
on in a Vegas show. Jubilee. I’ve been dancing in Jubilee for the past three years, Ma. I’ve been in the chorus, but in the back, you know with all the other dancers. But I had an opportunity to be the lead chorus, which is a huge position. I’d be right up in front, Ma. And I nailed it. I got the part. I’m going to be the lead chorus in Jubilee.”

  My mom is quiet for a second. “Oh,” she says again.

  I take another semi deep breath, telling myself it’s now or never, honey.

  “And you don’t have to worry about me when I get discharged from the hospital, Ma. Because I’m not going home alone. Julio will be there. He’s my… we’re together. We live together. For the past year.”

  “Like… your boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. He’s my boyfriend.”

  “Oh.” She’s quiet again.

  I bite my lip to keep from begging her to say something.

  “Mom, you still there?”

  “I’m here. Is he, Julio that is. Is he, uh…” My mom falters, stuttering. “Is he Catholic?” she asks, almost whispering the last word as if afraid to say it out loud.

  “No, Ma. Julio’s not Catholic.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s a relief,” she says with a sigh.

  I can’t help it, I laugh out loud. Who knew Catholicism was a bigger sin than being gay in Mom’s world? Sometimes I’d swear I was adopted. I quiet down again as the silence on my mother’s end stretches.

  Finally I hear her voice. “Does he love you?” she asks.

  I think of the way he sat beside me all night, just holding my hand. The look of tenderness on his face as I opened my eyes in the hospital room. The look of understanding in his eyes when I confessed to my doublewide beginnings.

  “Yeah, Mom. He does.”

  “Then I’m happy for you, honey.”

  The lump forms in my throat again, like a boulder. Only this time I don’t mind it.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I manage to squeak out.

  “Of course, we’re going to have to tell your father.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll do it,” she says bravely.

  “No, Ma, I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “Trust me, honey, you tell him like you just told me, and the poor man will have a heart attack. Let me do it. I’ll soften the news with a pot roats.”

  I smile, picturing my mom gently trying to break the news to Dad. Somehow, I know she’ll do it. He may not be thrilled. He may not even like me much for awhile. But I know it will be okay. He’ll come around. Eventually. And even if he doesn’t, at least it’s better than living a lie.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Well, I gotta go to choir practice. You sure you don’t want me to come stay with you for a couple days?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  “Okay. Get some rest, baby. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Ma.”

  My mom hangs up the phone and I rest the receiver back in the cradle. Lucy’s over and Mary Tyler More is yelling at Rob for something in their fifties living room. It’s the same living room I’ve seen since I was five years old when I used to watch this show on the sofa, home sick from school. The same shrill voice, the same boxy, retro furnishings, the same dopey look on Dick Van Dyke’s face.

  Only, some things will never be the same again. I told my mother the truth. The big lie that’s been my life for the last twenty-eight years is gone. And thank God, that will never be the same again.

  Chapter Twenty-seven:

  Mary, the Queen of Hearts

  “I see your perfume and I raise you one lip gloss.” Kit tosses in her bet.

  David whistles low in his throat, shaking his head. “Sorry, ladies, too rich for my blood. I fold.”

  “Oh, come on, David. Live a little,” I say, throwing in a tube of lipstick.

  “You’re still in, Mary?” Kit asks.

  “Oh yeah, I’m in.”

  “Ella?”

  Ella chews on her lip, looking from her cards to the pile of cosmetics growing in the center of my dining room table. “I don’t know.”

  “Walk away, honey,” David says. “Walk away.”

  “Shhh, quiet David.” Kit punches him in the arm.

  “Owe. Careful, I’m still fragile.”

  We all roll our eyes. David’s been out of the hospital for three weeks now, but he’s still milking this injury thing for all it’s worth. I don’t think a day’s gone by where he hasn’t reminded at least one of us how close we all were to losing him. Or in his words, “I almost went to that big disco in the sky.” To be honest, I think he’s watched one too many soaps recovering on his couch all day. In fact, I think the more times he tells the story of his “gruesome ordeal,” the number of attackers grows. The current version has him being jumped by the entire 82nd airborne division of the Marines.

  “Okay, I’m in,” Ella says, throwing out a powder compact. “And I call.”

  “Oh hell. I’ve got a Queen high,” Kit says fanning out her cards.

  “Shit,” David says. “I had better cards than you. I thought you had a really good hand with that perfume.”

  Kit smiles. “I was bluffing. Ella was supposed to fold.”

  “Ouch. Sorry, honey.”

  “Mary?” Kit asks.

  “Two fours.”

  “Ella?”

  “Nothing. I almost had a straight, but nothing now.”

  I look at her cards as she lays them down. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Queen.

  Ohmigod. I won. I can’t believe it, I actually won!

  “Wow, Mary won,” David says, looking at the cards.

  “Oh my God!” I pull the pile of cosmetics my way - come to Mama, darlings!

  “Wow, way to go, Mary,” Ella says.

  “Well, she was due,” Kit concedes.

  “Thanks.” I can’t believe I’ve won either. This never happens. And with a pair of fours? What are the odds of that?

  I’m so excited, I get up from the table and dance all the way over to the kitchen to pour myself another drink.

  “Whoa, honey, what are you wearing tonight?” David asks, eyeing my outfit.

  “What?” I look down. Black pants, flowy red blouse and black strappy shoes. What’s wrong with this?

  “Honey, is that a pair of Louis Vuittons I see on your feet?”

  Kit and Ella strain around the table to see. I wiggle my toes for them in the black, high heels with the gorgeous silver detailing on the front.

  “Why yes, yes they are,” I say proudly. “And this happens to be a Marc Jacobs top and…” I do a little spin. “…DKNY pants. Full price,” I add. “What do you think?”

  “Honey, you look H-A-W-T,” David spells. “What did you do, rob a department store?”

  I smile. “I’ve recently come into a little bit of money.” Nineteen thousand, three hundred and twenty two dollars to be precise. One thing to be said about those Asherton men, they don’t cheap out on diamonds.

  “What kind of money?” Ella asks, narrowing her big blue eyes suspiciously at me.

  I smile the same big goofy grin I got standing in Honest Abe’s Pawn Shop as he counted out a line of cash. “I might as well tell you. Brandon gave me the ring back.”

  There is a collective hush as they all brace for tears, cries, and the general whining that would have followed this statement just a few short weeks ago. But not tonight. Tonight, the smile on my face just grows wider as I say, “I pawned it.”

  “You go, girl!” David butt bumps me.

  “Oh, Mary, I’m so proud of you.” Ella gives me a little hug.

  “Good. We’re over the bastard,” Kit says.

  I put on David’s sassiest voice. “Honey, I was over him six months ago.” God, that feels good to say. And you know what? I think I believe it this time. Why shouldn’t I be over him? Brandon was a jerk. It’s abundantly clear to me now that Brandon and I were not soulmates. I mean, can you believe I thought I was soulmates with a guy who wears topsiders? The man obviously has
issues.

  “Well, here’s to being single,” Kit says, raising her wide brimmed glass in a toast. We all clink (yes, we even let Ella join in) and take a sip. Wow, it’s strong tonight. I think Ella’s trying to kill us.

  “What did you put in this?” I ask her.

  “Rum, coconut milk, pineapple and peach schnapps. It’s a peacha colada.”

  I look down at her glass and am surprised to see water. “You’re not having any?” I ask.

  “Nope,” she says. “I’m kind of cutting back.” Ella gives me a big smile, tossing her blond hair over one shoulder.

  “Okay everyone, it’s time,” Kit says, looking up at my Garfield clock and corralling us into my living room (a.k.a. two steps to the left).

  After some frantic searching I find the remote wedged between my futon cushions. “What channel?”

  “Five,” Kit says.

  David takes a position on the futon, and Ella plops down beside him. Kit still sits on the ottoman, her eyes intent on the TV as I switch channels. I sit back on the floor in front of the coffee table just as Kit’s face comes on the screen. She looks amazing, almost like cat-woman in an all black, leather pantsuit that hugs every inch of her body like a glove. I delude myself into thinking a more few days at the gym. and I can look like that too.

  “Welcome, to Magic’s Biggest Secrets Revealed,” she says. “Tonight we are going inside some of magic’s biggest acts, taking you step by step through the process of each trick, letting you, the viewing public, where no one has been allowed before. Into the minds of magicians.”

  Spooky music swells up and the opening title sequence rolls across the screen. Kit’s name flashes in big, white letters: Kitten Warchowski.

  “Kitten?” David asks, wrinkling up his nose.

  “Hippie parents. What can you do?” Kit shrugs.

  “Shhh.” Ella quiets us down as Kit comes back on.

  “Tonight, we go inside one of Vegas’s biggest acts. The show is called the Magic of the North. The magician, Vlad the Magnificent. His first trick we’re going to take you through is the Magic of the Rings. The assistant gets inside a black box…” A blond woman steps inside a box as Kit stands center stage, directing the assistant into position.