Vegas Girls

by Heather Skyler

  So three kids. Jeremy remembered their faces now from his one visit to Mark’s house a couple of years ago. They had their mother’s curly hair and Mark’s sleepy, dark eyes. The daughter already looked like trouble, and the boys were rowdy, wrestling and tumbling around the living room for his entire visit.

  “So I saw Ramona this week. She’s at Ivy’s place.”

  “Ramona,” Mark rolled the name out slowly, seeming to savor the syllables. “Wow, I haven’t thought about her in a long time.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m busy, brother. Busy. I don’t have time to think about old girlfriends.” The beers arrived, and Mark swallowed half of his pint in two gulps, then swiped a hand across his mouth. “How’s she doing?”

  “Okay, I guess. She looks good—same long braids, nice tan. She still thinks I’m a piece of shit, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

  Mark laughed. “Good for her. I could always count on Ramona to call you out.”

  “She’s staying at the Golden Nugget for some reason. I guess she likes her solitude.” Even the word—solitude—gave him a shiver. His empty apartment. The neatly made bed, his TV set atop a vegetable crate. The single, overstuffed chair in the living room. He would buy a couch, a TV stand, and a coffee table next week. Surely that would help.

  “I always liked that about her, the way she could just be quiet and listen to music or play her guitar. We didn’t have to talk all the time. That’s my main issue with Kat. I get home, and she wants a long story about my day in real time, and I’m just burnt. I just want to sit and not speak for an hour. Ramona got that about me, or maybe she was just that way too, who knows?”

  “Did you know her mother died?” Jeremy asked.

  Mark nodded. “I saw the obit. A buddy of mine sent it to me. I sent her a condolence card but never heard anything back. I guess you’re not supposed to respond to those cards though anyway. That’s not the point. I sent a picture of the kids with it and wondered later if maybe that was in poor taste. Kat told me it was, but Ramona’s never seen them or anything, so I thought, what the hell?”

  A condolence card. This information shocked Jeremy. The notion of sending a condolence card struck him as the domain of grown-ups, particularly women, and the image of Mark sitting down at a desk to send one was absurd. “I didn’t think you two kept in touch or that you even knew where she lived.”

  “We don’t. Just that card. It seemed like the right thing to do. And I know everything that’s going on here or with people who used to live here, brother. I have my finger on the fucking pulse.”

  Jeremy smiled at this. Mark had always known everything about everyone, that was true.

  “I hear you’re doing well,” Mark said. “Cooking up a storm.”

  Jeremy nodded. “It’s paying the rent, finally. Though the rent isn’t much right now.”

  “That’s good. Keep it that way. Keep it simple.”

  “That’s my motto,” Jeremy said and raised his glass in a toast.

  Mark clinked his pint against Jeremy’s, and the impact of the two glasses was sweet to his ears. The Prince song was on now, “Purple Rain,” and despite the slow, shadowy splendor of the music, the mood in the bar had turned festive. While they’d been talking, every single booth had filled up, and the bar was packed. Jeremy glanced across the room and saw that Kristina and Peter still sat in their booth, sharing a plate of chicken fingers. The girls at the pool table had been replaced by a trio of middle-aged men in bright polos. “Look at this place,” Jeremy said. “I’ve never seen it so crowded.”

  “It’s always like this now,” Mark said. “Good thing you got here early.”

  “Yeah, good thing.” He was oddly proud of himself, for creating this evening with his old friend, for making amends with his ex-coworker, and he brimmed with an unnamed excitement. “We should take a trip,” he told Mark. “A road trip. We could go to the Grand Canyon or Valley of Fire, spend a couple of days roaming around.”

  “I used up all my time off over Christmas.”

  “Well, then … just a drive out to the lake, right now. What do you think?”

  Mark smiled, sipping his second beer. “I can’t, brother. Wife. Kids. You know the drill. They’re expecting me. I have to help Delilah with her math homework. Kat refuses.”

  “Oh, of course,” Jeremy said, feeling the excitement spill out of him in a rush. He allowed himself to slump, ever so slightly, and took the final swallow of his beer. “Another time, maybe.”

  “Sure. Sure. That sounds good. We can make it a family thing—you can bring a girlfriend. You still seeing Louisa?”He shook his head. He could barely remember Louisa. Dark hair, a limp, those beautiful, poufed-out lips. The image flicked through him, then was gone. Maybe it had been longer than he thought since he’d seen Mark. “A woman named Gretchen, but it’s not serious.”

  “Well, bring her along. What’s her story?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeremy said, looking around. He suddenly wanted to be free of this place, but Mark still had half a beer to go. “Um, she works at the Stardust, at the front desk. She’s getting a hospitality management degree at the community college part-time, and I don’t know how she ever expects to finish because she only takes one class a semester. She works full-time,” he added, not wanting to imply she was lazy.

  “Lots of people do it that way. It will just take her a little longer, that’s all.”

  Jeremy nodded. Actually, she would probably finish. He could tell she was determined, but he didn’t care. He barely cared about her at all.

  “I should head out,” Mark said and rose, the last quarter of his beer unfinished.

  “Me too,” Jeremy agreed.

  Outside, the sky was dark, and a wind had picked up, sending debris across the parking lot. He waved to Mark and watched as his black pickup truck pulled out into traffic. Jeremy felt a sudden longing to be inside the cab of that truck with his friend, heading home to a family, homework, dinner, the bustle of middle-class living. It wasn’t a life he’d ever thought he wanted, but right now it struck him as ideal. He imagined Mark’s home as a glowing hub of activity that would leave him worn out at the end of a day, ready to rest, whereas Jeremy was growing restless. There was too much energy inside him right now, and it threatened to unleash itself in the usual unhealthy ways: drinking, roaming around through the night, waiting up to fuck Gretchen when he knew he needed sleep, when he didn’t even like her. He got inside his Subaru, then turned on the music and just sat there for a while, waiting to see what he would do next.

  JANE

  Jane watched her children running on the sidewalk up ahead as she strolled slowly in the direction of Rex’s house. She’d made everyone spaghetti and meatballs for dinner tonight and it had been a big success, with second helpings for all, including Fern and Rocky.

  She’d left Ivy and Ramona behind with the dinner dishes, and it felt good to be outside and relatively alone. Earlier on the phone, she’d fought with Adam, and the conversation still clung to her, sucked at her heels as she stepped lightly up the sidewalk beneath a sky beginning to turn the exact color of a ripe peach. She tried to immerse herself in the beauty of it, in the warmth of the air. She’d begun to associate Adam with winter, she realized, and thinking of him also made her think of the graying roadside snow, the bone-racking cold.

  “Watch out,” she called to Rocky as he reached a curb up ahead. “Wait for me.”

  Her son stopped, and Fern bumped into him, then turned to watch Jane approach. The origami bird was shoved into the pocket of her shorts, and she could feel its wing poking her leg with each stride. She had dreamed about The Muse again last night. This time he’d been sitting up in the apple tree in Jane’s backyard at home, watching her through the bare branches as she crossed the grass.

  On the phone, Adam told her that she needed to come home, that he didn’t want to be separated, that he missed her and missed the kids. Jane wished that she wanted to go home to Adam, but the
truth was she didn’t.

  At the corner, each kid took one of her hands before they crossed the street and turned left. At the next block she led them right, and up ahead was a familiar scene: two blonde girls in the driveway, this time playing with skateboards rather than the hose. Closer, Jane expected to see The Muse sitting in a chair or standing by the porch smoking, but when they reached the house, no parent was in sight.

  “Hi,” the two girls called out to Jane. Their voices sounded happy enough, but the older girl had a splint on her ring finger, and the younger one looked as if she might have recently finished crying.

  “Hello,” Jane said, stopping at the bottom of the drive. “These are my kids,” she told them, unable to think of anything else to say. She wanted to ask where their father was, if their mother was home, but both questions felt weighed down by the wrong kind of desire.

  Rocky helped her out by asking to try the older girl’s skateboard, and Jane felt slightly relieved as he followed them up the drive. Now there appeared to be a purpose for her presence here.

  Just as Rocky put a tentative foot on the board, The Muse appeared in the doorway, and Jane was surprised by his appearance. He looked nothing like he had in the dreams. His hair seemed less white and silky; his face and body were more ordinary than she’d imagined. The name she’d devised for him suddenly seemed silly, and she reminded herself that his real name was Rex, and he was just a regular human being like everybody else.

  “Oh, hi,” he said, smiling. “It’s you again.” He wore a plain black T-shirt and worn jeans. Very-white, bare toes poked out beneath the fraying denim as he crossed the driveway to Jane. His hair was coiled in a small bun at the nape of his neck. “How goes the vacation?”

  Jane shrugged, suddenly embarrassed to be standing here on his driveway again, despite the fact that she’d hoped to see him. “This is my daughter, Fern,” she said, pushing her forward as if she were a sacrifice. “And that’s my son, Rocky.”

  “Rocky,” he said. “What a great name. Are you going to be a boxer?”

  Rocky shook his head, and Jane said, “He’s named after the mountain range, not the fighter.”

  “Oh, even better,” the man said. “We were just about to look through the telescope, out back. You can see Saturn’s rings tonight. Care to join us?”

  “Okay,” Jane agreed, and she and the kids followed him through the house, which, to Jane’s surprise, was spare and dimly lit, like a museum.

  “My wife’s influence,” he said, gesturing to the almost empty living room. “If I had my way, this place would probably look like a junkyard. I like stuff.”

  “What does your wife do?” Jane asked, stopping to run her hand along the length of a black walnut buffet, topped by a white vase containing four purple irises. On closer inspection, she saw that the flowers were made of silk.

  “She’s a concierge at the Flamingo.”

  “Oh, the Flamingo! That’s where we spent our wedding night,” Jane said, without thinking.

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Eleven years.” She thought about explaining her separation or the fact that she didn’t want to be married anymore at all, but she kept quiet.

  “I have you beat. We just had our fourteenth anniversary.”

  “Congratulations,” Jane said, sounding oddly formal to herself. She followed him into the kitchen and watched as all four kids disappeared through the sliding glass door, then dispersed into the backyard.

  “We need drinks for this, I think,” he said opening the fridge and peering inside. “You probably don’t drink beer, do you?”

  “Of course I drink beer,” Jane said.

  He passed her a Miller Lite, smiling, then righted himself and touched his bun, as if to make sure his hair was still there. Now that she’d been with him for a few minutes, she’d rediscovered his allure. It was the dark contrast of his eyes against the white skin, she decided, and the broad, bony sweep of his shoulders beneath the T-shirt.

  Behind him, on the refrigerator, there was a photograph of the entire family on a beach somewhere. The wife wore an old-fashioned swimsuit, the kind with a modest cut on the thigh and a built-in bustier. It was red, reminiscent of a ’50s-era bombshell, and she looked great in it with her short black hair and movie-star sunglasses. The rest of the family seemed ragtag beside her, with their wild white hair blowing in the wind.

  The backyard, unlike the house, was cluttered with stuff: a baby pool, two bikes, a multicolored climber. Rocky swung back and forth on an old metal swing set, and the three girls were crammed into a sandbox. Beside the sandbox, Jane saw the stack of palm fronds that had been out front on her last visit. So she hadn’t imagined them.

  The sun was long gone now, but the sky was still light, and a white half-moon was visible, embedded into the deep pink and bronze sky like a chip of bone in the desert. A telescope was set up on a square of concrete by the back fence, and Rex led her over to it and leaned down to set his eye against the lens. “It’s still too light right now,” he said, straightening up and pointing. “But right over there we should be able to see Saturn in a bit.”

  “How do you know about this stuff?” Jane asked him.

  “My father,” he told her. “We used to go out to Spring Mountain Ranch and watch meteor showers, lying on the grass. When I was older we got this telescope so we could see more stuff.”

  “We used to go there too,” Jane said, remembering. “But during the day, for picnics. I love that place.” She took a sip of her beer and looked around the yard. Behind the baby pool, there was a pomegranate tree covered in deep orange-red blooms. She had a sense that she was gathering details in her mind for a reason. She noted the hummingbird feeder, a plastic flower filled with red syrup, hanging from the branch of a mulberry tree in the yard’s corner, the pink scooter propped against the side of the house, the bowl of cat food beside it.

  “Come see the garden,” Rex said, leading her to the other side of the yard. In the corner was a neat square of dirt planted with rosemary, mint, chives, and thyme. “What’s that one?” Jane asked, pointing.

  “Thai basil,” he said. “It’s really nice in a green curry. And those will eventually be serrano peppers, but it’s too early for them yet,” he explained, pointing to a small plant. “If you’re still here this summer, I’ll have you over for this jicama and black bean salsa I make that’s so fucking good you’ll die happy.”

  “I’m leaving this weekend,” she said.

  “Oh, really? That’s too bad.” His dark eyes stayed on hers as he said this, and Jane felt her face heat up.

  “Did you make this?” she asked, pulling the origami bird from her pocket.

  Rex frowned and took the bird. “No,” he said. “But I wish I had. That’s really cool.”

  He handed it back to her and she inspected it again. Who else could have possibly thrown this into Ivy’s pool? She walked over to the telescope and set the bird on a small table, then took a long swallow of beer, trying to cover her embarrassment. “I was sure you made that,” she mumbled. Why would she assume this man she’d met only once before had tossed her a present over the wall? She must have imagined the attraction between them. This was all one-sided, and she should leave before his wife came home and there was a misunderstanding.

  “I guess I’d better get going,” Jane said, setting her empty bottle on the table.

  “But we haven’t seen Saturn yet. You have to stay for that.”

  He smiled at her, then picked up her empty bottle and went inside.

  Jane looked over at Fern, still in the sandbox. She was listening closely to something Calliope was saying. Her daughter appeared to be spellbound, as if the older girl had hypnotized her, and Jane wondered if she were under some sort of spell as well; what else would explain why she was in a stranger’s yard, waiting for Saturn to appear?

  Rex reemerged with another beer and passed it to her. She cracked it open and took a sip, thinking about how Adam would scorn th
is beer. He was a snob about his coveted microbrews, and would have judged Rex for the Miller Lite, but it tasted good to her right now: airy and clean and cold. Adam would scorn this man for other things as well—the bun, the cluttered yard—but he would admire the telescope, Jane decided. He would like the fact that Rex knew his constellations.

  “So what did you do before you lost your job?” she asked him.

  “Construction. I think I might try and get into nursing school though.”

  Jane nodded. This struck her as a good idea. She liked the notion of a sensible, helpful profession, one with obvious goals and rewards.

  “How about you?” he asked.

  “I was a reporter at a newspaper.”

  “They’ve had a lot of layoffs, I bet,” he said.

  “Well, they have.” Jane paused, then added, “But I was actually fired.”

  “Oh?” he said, watching her.

  Here was her chance to unburden herself. This man seemed like a good choice. She sensed no judgment in his gaze as he waited to hear what had happened.

  “I was caught with a coworker.” She took a deep breath then said quickly. “We were caught making out in the office. It was assumed we had done more, but really it was just the kissing, just that once. But we were caught, and our boss didn’t want to hear any explanations. It was probably an easy way to lay off two more people.” She paused and took a deep breath, then added, “It was really humiliating.”

  Rex laughed at the news, tilting back his head and letting loose a loud hoot. Then he noticed her serious face and said, “Sorry. You just seem so proper and good. I never imagined you’d do something like that in a million years.”

  “Proper and good?”

  “Don’t look so offended. It’s a compliment.” He smiled at her. “You seem classy. That’s what I meant.”

  “Well, thanks, I guess,” she said. “But apparently I’m not.” She was aware then of how she was sitting, perched carefully on the edge of the chair, her posture erect, one leg crossed over the other. In an effort to relax, she uncrossed her legs and slid to the back of her chair, then took another swig of beer and felt the muscles in her face begin to loosen.