Letty moved closer to their table.
There.
Talking to one of the orbiting women who looked just bimbo enough to possibly be an escort.
Richter was shorter than she'd imagined. Barely five-ten. He wasn't handsome, just put together nicely. Retro glasses. A short-sleeved button down that seemed to shimmer. No belt. Shiny black wingtips. No jacket.
In that case, she'd be mining the front pockets of his slacks. Back pocket would be better. Cargo pants pockets ideal. But front pocket was workable, and his pants didn't look too tight. In fact, it was more in her comfort zone than a grab from an inner jacket pocket. A pants pocket is a pocket. What you see is what you get, with tightness being the only variable. An inner jacket pocket that you couldn't see was full of surprises. Like zippers. Snaps. Buttons. All manner of things to snag probing fingers.
She could feel her adrenaline begin to spike as she approached. She drew within range of Richter and the bimbo. The woman stood on legs that looked too insubstantial to support her top half.
Richter was staring at her with a glazed look that Letty hoped was boredom.
She inched closer.
Overheard the bimbo shouting: "Yah, I've been out here about a year and a half. It's pretty fun, you know. Lots to do. Sometimes, I wake up and it's like, I live in Vegas, right? Like, oh-my-God!"
Letty looked up at Richter.
Eye contact.
He said, "And what's this? Another fly come to suck off our bottle service?"
He turned away from both women, called out, "Gentlemen, let's roll."
Letty shoved down the flush of rage.
Do not let him leave.
But she couldn't think of a single play to stop this from happening.
Bimbo said, "Asshole," and stormed off.
Richter and the rest of his crew headed out, with Isaiah bringing up the rear.
He didn't even look at her.
8
Letty's feet were killing her. She eased down into one of the chairs at the empty table.
Steaming.
In shock.
She'd choked.
Her first job since last Christmas, and she'd blown it.
A promoter materialized—cute brunette with chopped hair. Amazing dress. Nametag read Jessica.
She smiled at Letty and knelt down so she didn't have to shout.
"Hi, what's your name?"
Letty said, "Gidget."
"Well, Gidget, this is actually a reserved table. I have a group I need to put here."
Screams from the next table over drew Letty's attention. Looked like a bachelorette party unfolding. Pure, smashed joy.
Letty slid back into her pumps, struggled onto her feet.
"All yours."
# # #
Letty headed back toward the dance floor. Just wanting to get out of the noise, out of the movement.
Inside, it was impossibly more crowded than before.
A wall of bodies.
The music ear-rupturing.
The bass heart-stopping.
She moved along the perimeter.
A group of three guys at a table called out to her with Boston accents. They were working their way through a 1.75L bottle of Jack and they reeked of desperation. Any other night, she'd have had a drink and grabbed their wallets.
It took her five minutes to push through the crowd and past the entrance into the front lounge.
The barrage of self-destructive thoughts firing away.
You've lost it.
You're washed-up.
Then she was passing a line of nightclub hopefuls that snaked through the lobby of the Wynn.
Then she was outside, sucking down gulps of exhaust-tinged desert air.
She kicked off her shoes and carried them.
Her head swirling.
She felt her phone vibrate. Opened her purse.
A text from Isaiah: wtf was that?
Good question.
She hit him back: location?
He answered: stand down see u tomorrow
# # #
She went up to her room, but she couldn't calm down. Couldn't stand the thought of lying in bed playing her epic fail over and over again.
She needed to score.
Challenge the thought.
I need to get high.
Challenge the thought. Think about your son. Think about—
I need to get high.
# # #
She wound up at the Zebra Lounge, a bar in her hotel with tons of seating upholstered in zebra print. Onstage, dueling pianists played something fast and obnoxious.
She sat at the bar. Hadn't had a drink since starting rehab in Charleston, and she wanted to fall off the wagon with something big and noisy.
While the bartender made her Long Island Iced Tea, she studied him, trying to get a read on whether he would further her ultimate ambitions for the evening.
He was twenty-three or twenty-four. Smooth-shaven. Cropped hair. Lifted weights for sure. No tats that she could see, although he wore a long-sleeved black button down which didn't reveal much.
He set her drink in front of her, said, "Seventeen dollars. Start a tab?"
"Sure, put it on my room." She gave him the number. "What's your name, by the way?"
"Darren."
"Darren, if I wanted to get my hands on something a little stronger than booze, would you be able to point me in the right direction?"
She could see in his eyes that he got asked this all the time.
"Talk to Jay at Japonais in the Mirage. He's working tonight."
"Appreciate that."
He left her to her drink.
It was strong and very good.
Yes, the night had blown up to this moment, but she was about to turn it around.
Letty leaned over her drink and sucked the rest of it down.
The liquor hit her gut in a burst of beautiful heat.
9
Letty crossed the boulevard.
The Strip at midnight sleepless and blinking and radiating a nervous energy that filled her junkie soul with the closest thing to joy she could ever hope to know.
Even at this hour, too much traffic creeping between the median of palm trees.
Almost everyone she passed was lit up.
Hell, she was too.
It felt good to be outside again, walking and buzzed and the Mojave air skirting over her shoulders, between her knees.
Surreal to be in the midst of all this stimulation and to know that twenty miles in any direction would put you in abject emptiness.
Between Treasure Island and the Mirage, a small black man wailed on a harmonica. Playing for tips, but no one was tipping. Letty dropped a twenty into the Panama Jack hat lying upturned on the sidewalk beside him.
He looked up.
"Bless you. Bless you."
Huge, milky cataracts covered his eyes, but he stared right at her. His smile both penetrating and disarming.
Letty moved on.
"You don't have to give up!" he called after her. "I hope you know that!"
She quickened her pace.
The giant marquee on the Mirage blazed down like a midnight sun.
The volcano in front of the casino erupted.
A crowd snapped photos with their phones.
Letty cruised through the tropical landscaping into the hotel.
An adult fantasy world.