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danielolly20 · 4 years

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Be Nice to the Dice - Part 2

After a long walk, he’d ended up at his favourite little hole in the wall, Sagos Tavern. After passing South Decatur Boulevard, you could find yourself ditching most all of the tourists, and end up in a more homely part of Vegas. Palm trees still littered the sides of the street, but this wasn’t the fancy dressed up in lights Vegas, accented with fountains and music coming from the high-end clubs and bars, this was more like home.

There were no windows in Sagos, and that kept it dark and smoky. There’s one way in, and that always made him feel like he had a bit of an advantage, knowing who was coming and going. There’s an old man swearing at the Keno machine, and the once-beautiful bartenders keep their cleavage pointed to the next tipper. Sports are on all the TV’s above the patrons, but nobody cares as their old faces, with countless blurred memories, stare into the blue light of the gaming machines. One person cheers. Everyone wonders if it’s for a jackpot or a hockey goal.

He’d managed to settle himself in after ordering two beers and double of Jack from the bartender, finding a spot in the back of the bar to hide himself away. Pulling a small black book he pulled from his pocket, he started writing. He didn’t want to have to get up again, or talk to Sonya the waitress right now. He needed to do some math quickly, and then he’d chug the first beer, followed closely by the Jack, then he’d sip his second beer.

He wrote down what he’d earned that night, and after looking over the numbers, he’d made more than enough to pay his bills and his rent four times over. He kept it simple, living in a small apartment on Hauck street, a mere block or so away from where he was, and tried not to ask too much of the dice. He knew they’d comply, but he didn’t want anyone wondering why he was lucky, nor did he want to attract attention to himself. As he was writing down his score, the chair across from him dragged back, startling him out of his reverie.

Looking up, the blue hair immediately caught his eye. Oh no.

“Oh, how sweet of you! How did you know?” She reaches for the double of Jack and downs it all in one long haul. Licking her lips, she tilts her head and sits back, putting one heel of her foot up on the chair, as she sits across from him.

“What…” he’s more miffed than anything. Had she followed him here? He hadn’t seen her when he’d left. There’s no way she’d been able to follow once he’d disappeared into the masses. He cleared his throat of the smokey air and tried again, “What are you doing here?”

“Aw, shucks. You’re too kind,” she says in that same cheerful voice, and reaches for a beer. This time, he reaches out to stop her, grabbing her wrist.

C'mon, didn’t think you were the only one did you? Her voice whispers through his fingertips and up his arm and into his ears. Only not. It had sounded like she had spoken softly, but she hadn’t said a word. She raises a brow, when he releases her quickly, trying to break whatever the hell that was. She reaches for the beer again, and this time he lets her, not wanting to touch her. Staring at her like she’d grown two heads. When she glances down at his little black book, he slams it shut with the small mini-golf pencil inside, and shoves it in his back pocket. As she sips the beer, she looks around, as though suddenly very interested in the decorum.

Her much-too-big hoodie seemed so out of place. It was Vegas, for God’s sakes, the weather was warm enough without adding a layer like that. Her ratty sneaker, squeaks as she removes it from the chair, and pulls herself in, to get closer to the table. He presses his back against the bench seat, as though facing a very dangerous poisonous snake. She smiles gently, as though to ease that, but your enemies came with smiles. He knew that very well.

“I came to see you, of course!” She says as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Without blinking he asks his next question,

“How did you find me?”

“It’s easy. You leave behind a very particular kind of… I dunno, a scent?” She sniffs the air around him as though to prove a point. Someone cheers again in the background, and he glances over, accidentally making eye contact with Sonya. She’d been watching whole exchange, and promptly decided to make it her business as she strutted over. She’d never seen him sit with anyone before, and he’d been coming here for a good year. No wonder it stirred her curiosity.

“Hey there, hon. Everything good here?” Sonya asks, her Southern drawl apparent immediately, resting her hand on the back of the girl’s seat. Many a man had fallen for Sonya, but they were all ‘no good louses’, or so he’d heard from her personally. She’d occasionally flirt with him, but she had a good decade and a half on him, and he wasn’t much for the cougars of Vegas.

“Oh, everything is wonderful!” The blue hair anomaly says in her delighted voice once more. She turns to face Sonya entirely, and places a hand on the waitress’, and smiles sweetly. “Would you mind grabbing us two more doubles of Jack, neat, and two more beers, Sonya?” Sonya seems enthralled for a moment, and doesn’t even ask the slip of a young lady for ID. She just nods in a semi-dream-like way and smiles widely without blinking as though very happy to see this blue-haired stranger.

“Of course, hon, anything else? You look like you could use a bite to eat,” Sonya says in a warm and friendly tone as though she’s known her all her life. “I suggest the tacos. Best in town!”

“That sounds amazing, Sonya, can you make them to go? Thank you so very, very much,” then she releases her, no longer touching her, and there Sonya goes, off to collect their order straight-away. He blinks in horror. What had she just done to Sonya?

“How did you do that?” he asks in quiet hiss, more than just a little terrified now.

“You can do it to, y'know,” she says, nonchalantly, sipping from the beer he’d tried to confiscate from her earlier. She brings her face in a little closer as though conspiring with a good friend and he again leans back, not wanting her to touch him. “Relax, man, I can’t do that to you,” she jerks her chin in the direction of where Sonya had gone. “You’ve got the same skill set as me. We all… well, we smell the same. It’s hard to explain.”

“What? I… smell the same?” His brow furrows.

“Yeah, I dunno. Just the easiest way to explain it. Can’t you smell me? Anyway, what’s your name?” She asks, chugging half of the beer back suddenly. Her blue eyes match her damned hair, and even in this dark lighting when she raises her face to the dim overhead lights, he can see that she is young. She looks more to be eighteen or so. Maybe even seventeen. He was losing his damned mind. She was strangely good-looking, and graceful despite her dishevelled appearance. The youthful look didn’t give her any hint of innocence though. Her shoulders were back, and she looked strong despite giving off a somewhat 'street urchin’ vibe.

“What’s yours?” he counters, still confused as ever. He randomly sniffs at the air as discreetly as possible, trying to see if this 'scent’ she spoke of existed. He couldn’t smell anything at all aside from stale beer and cigarette smoke.

“Abby. Abigail, but don’t call me that. No one calls me that. Abby’ll do just fine,” she says nodding to herself, then she tilts her chin to him. “Yours?”

“Ryan,” he says, quietly still just watching her. Her leg was constantly bouncing, and her eyes seemed to be constantly monitoring her surroundings despite her relaxed posturing. It took him more than a few minutes to realize she was using the mirrored beer sign behind him to watch the people of the bar.

“Well, howdy, Ry-Ry, glad to meetcha,” she says, and chugs the rest of the beer in one go. Why the hurry?

“Ryan,” he corrects her, suddenly looking behind her for something, anything, out of the ordinary. “Just Ryan will be fine.” What was she looking for? Nothing looked out of place. As Sonya returns with a warmer smile than ever, she brings the drinks first, and places them in the middle of the table. She pats Abby’s shoulder,

“Food will be out any sec, doll. Ryan, you should feed your girlfriend more!” She’s off, and away before Ryan has a chance to correct her. Ryan stares her down, and Abby is reaching immediately for the double of Jack. With a quick flick of her wrist the amber liquid is gone.

“Slow the hell down, Abby, your gonna give yourself liver failure,” he mutters. She smiles adorably for a moment and then pretends to pout all while looking flattered,

“Aw, worried about me, Ry-Ry?”

“Ryan,” he corrects her again.

“Don’t worry, Ry, my tolerance for alcohol is way higher than my tolerance for people,” she murmurs and smiles. He doesn’t bother correcting her this time. Her eyes are just as clear as they were when she first got here. If he’d done two doubles and chugged a beer he’d be a little more than tipsy; that’s why he always sipped his last beer, and made it last. She reaches for the next beer, and his eyes widen. The girl was half goddamned fish. “So, have you always lived in Vegas?”

“What?” he asks, confused. Why did she want to know?

“You say 'what’ a lot, Ry,” she quips, and chugs back half the beer, her eyes glancing up in the mirror behind him again. Despite all her posturing, she was tense for some reason. Sonya was making her way back to the table with a takeaway container of tacos. By the time he’d glanced back from Sonya, she’d finished the rest of the beer. “Time to go,” she says, and smiles again. Sonya puts the food on the table, and smiles warmly at the blue haired mystery at his table.

“There you go, honey! You just holler if you need anything else,” she says, before wandering off again. Grabbing the container unceremoniously, Abby sniffs it and smiles. She abruptly stands, container in her hands, looking as out of place as ever.

“Thanks for the drinks and dinner, Ry! I always appreciate a gentleman,” she says with a big smile. A quick turn on her heel, and she’s wandering through the fellow patrons, slipping past the small crowds of people, blue hair all he’s able to see of her short stature, before disappearing behind other people as she heads to the exit. And she’s gone. Just like that. He suddenly blinks, and shakes his head, baffled.

He looks around suddenly paranoid. What had she been in such a rush to avoid? He didn’t want to stick around to find out. He leaves a hundred dollar bill at the table, under one of the beer bottles amongst the other drinks he’d yet to touch, before making his own quick escape from Sagos. He found himself looking over his shoulder repeatedly, but no shadows stalked him, or followed him, and he found himself more bewildered than before. He didn’t feel safe until he’d climbed the stairs to his small one bedroom apartment, deadbolted the door, and drawn the shades.

Only then did he exhale.

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