Leaving Las Vegas by John O'Brien Read Free Book Online Page B

waiting soreness. Walking now where she normally wouldn’t, not looking for a trick where she normally would, she immerses herself in the perception of, without participation in, the business of Las Vegas. The hotels appear as mirages in the distance, and though each one seems to take forever to reach, they fall quickly behind her. Soon, where she has been looks like where she is going, so she apparently stands on the face of a mirror, the two directional options either identical or opposite to each other.
    (“Where? where are you going?” Sera whispered, so as not to wake him.
    “Just away from him. I don’t care, maybe San Diego,” said the girl. Her purse fully stuffed with clothing, she wore baggy denim jeans with no underwear. She was the sort of girl who could make herself well-liked for one evening; that evening was a long time ago, and now only Sera would spend any time with her.
    “Good plan. I hear tricking is a booming industry downthere.” Sera regretted this sarcasm, and in fact had no heart for this conversation at all.
    “Fuck you, Sera! You know you should be coming with me.”
    The marble was cold under her bare feet, so tucking her negligee between her thighs, Sera sat down. “I just don’t think I could start all over again,” she said.
    The girl threw her purse over her shoulder. “Yes you could. You know you could, Sera. You of all people could.” Then under her breath as she left: “You could do it a thousand times.”
    Rather than watch her leave, Sera went back to the bedroom and slipped quietly between the sheets, so as not to wake anyone.)
    Stopping off here or there, she uses the rest room or has a drink of water. The montage of casino interiors lends more clearly a vision of their subtle differences. Not obvious things like decor or employee costumes, which are really just similarities, but the more significant indications of management and money. The type of gambler can vary widely from place to place, as well as the type of dealer. She never really thought of the casinos as having the same distinctions as other businesses, but now she sees that some make more money, keep things cleaner, have a happier staff than others. It just follows; there’s nothing special, nothing universal.
    (“Will you talk to this girl!” Her mother stormed out of the kitchen, leaving her alone with her father.
    “I know,” Sera began after a long silence, after waiting respectfully for him to speak, knowing all along that she would speak first, that he wanted to listen to her, “that travel may not be a Darwinian imperative—”
    “Oh, it is,” her father corrected, then shut his mouth decidedly.
    “Well then,” she said, her suspicions now confirmed that her old ally hadn’t failed her, “I guess we can also agree that certainly it must be, at least, broadening.” And they both fell to laughter,though she could see the pain in his eyes.)
    She’s tired, has too much alcohol still in her blood. It’ll leave her at its own glacial pace, regardless of how much she walks. She bears up, decides to execute directly the remaining two miles to her home. Her body wasn’t ready for this. Some aches return; others take hold for the first time. As her head clears and the distance diminishes, she feels better. At home she lies down in her bed, sleeps until she wakes, is awake until she sleeps.

     
    “Who is there?”
    “I have your cleaning, Mr. Fathi.”
    Gamal Fathi, a single gold chain around his neck, walks to the door of his hotel room clad only in a towel marked
Aladdin.
To him the hotel is a travesty which he finds repugnant, but it is also in a location that might prove useful should his Mercedes fail to start, something it has been threatening to do.
    “Yes,” he says, opening the door and taking the hanger and bundle from the boy. “This is it all?”
    “Yes, sir,” says the boy, though he was just asked a moment ago to make the delivery and has no idea whether or not it is