Cindy stood below the unlit neon of Fremont Street and thought about where to go next. Her list, while punctuated with a final stop, still required a place to start.

“I’m looking for an evil man,” Cindy said aloud to no one in particular. She stared up at Sally, kicking up a leg in glowing orange and purple.

The tall cowgirl flashed a smile and rocked her outstretched leg. A glint of light sparked on her side pointing to the east. Cindy felt a warm glow. She followed the light until it revealed the full length of Fremont Street. Toward the end of her view, a janitor piled up plastic cups and paper. A few of the homeless pulled their shopping carts and panhandlers wandered across from one side of an alley to the other. Otherwise, no one stood on the street, and it was empty except for Cindy, Sally and Vegas Vic.

Cindy peered further down to the end of East Fremont.

“You think I will find him down there?” asked Cindy.

Sally only smiled.

The neon lining Sally’s skirt lit and erupted in a spark. A cascade of light rose up her dress and touched the video canopy overhead forming an arrow. The flashing arrow pointed to the southeast.

“I guess that’s a sign,” Cindy said surprised. She spied to see if anyone had noticed. No one was around.

“Follow the light,” she said in a deep-throated baritone.

“So your handsome boyfriend has the answers,” Cindy said. Sally refused to say, but the arrow began to move across the canopy confirming Cindy’s hunch.

The girl followed the arrow as it moved until it blinked out and immediately jumped on the shoulder of Vegas Vic. A single neon bulb fizzled on the tall man’s shoulder.

Cindy eyed Vegas Vic. The tall cowboy attempted to wave. His hat touched the top of the canopy. He appeared too uncomfortable and slouched against the metal. His smile betrayed his true feelings however, because to Cindy, the cowboy was glad to be standing and waving to the visitors of Fremont Street. Cindy moved closer and stood below Vic.

“I’m looking for the cheating, hateful, worthless, low life who killed my daddy,” Cindy said below the tall cowboy’s feet. She laughed at the thought she was living the lyrics of a Country song. Soon the smile drew back, and a tear formed in her left eye. “I don’t suppose you have seen him?”

Vic just smiled. Sunlight reached the top of his hand and a short puff of wind moved his hand back and forth. Not sensing any direction from Vic, Cindy watched the street. Nothing moved.

Cindy glanced in the window of a Hawaiian trinket shop. She adjusted her waist and smoothed down the shimmering sides of her pink A-Line dress. Noticing a small flaw, she picked off lint from her left sleeve. In her reflection, beads of sweat were spotting her forehead. She reopened the purse, pushed aside her list, fingered the pearl handle of the revolver, and retrieved a small, white, lace handkerchief. She dabbed the water drops from her forehead, then flicked a hand up to her bangs and gave them a lift. She took a long look. It would have to do.

An advertisement for a condo time share proclaimed, “The Love You Make is The Love You Take.” The couple featured in the poster seemed happy enough, if not glossy and fake. Looking past the poster to her reflection, Cindy took notice of a man standing in the doorway below Sassy Sally smoking a cigarette. Sally rocked her leg. The man stared through Cindy and blew out a stream of smoke. Cindy ignored him as she took in the empty street

“Hey girl,” the man shouted. Cindy ignored him more. The man shouted again, “Over here.” This time Cindy chose to listen and turned her head toward his voice. She cocked her head to the side.

“Yeah you,” he shouted. He motioned for Cindy to cross the street. Cindy half smiled and waved her hand sideways.

“Now, don’t say no. I haven’t met you yet,” he said.

Cindy glanced up at the tall cowboy. Vic wasn’t saying much. His big hand pointed at his ear and his neon lights were off. The neon on his handkerchief flickered and his smile hinted it wouldn’t hurt to listen to the scrubby man across the street.

“You think he’s got the answer?,” Cindy asked Vic.

She took another glance at the face under the canopy. The man was calloused with a certain cockiness; he knew she would eventually cross the street to talk to him.

“Typical guy.” Cindy rolled her eyes at the thought. Cindy sized up the front of the Glitter Gultch. She smirked; a topless bar. It was the place her father would have hung out in. It was definitely the place where Todd L. might be found.

A quick breeze sent a chill across the perspiration on her forehead. The lights on the spur attached to Vic’s boot flashed and a cool mist dropped from below his boot. Along with the mist, a pink glow illuminated Cindy from below his boot.

“Pixie dust?” she asked the neon cowboy. Cindy thought he winked. “Well, Mr. Cowboy, I’ll take your word for it. And I appreciate your protection.” The cowboy just smiled.

Cindy returned her gaze on the man standing in front of the Glitter Gulch. He looks like a thug, she decided. The lights above Cindy flashed across the canopy pointing to the strip club. Cindy watched as the man followed the lights with his eyes. “See, there’s an invitation,” shouted the man.

Despite her misgiving, she played it sweet. Maybe this guy can help her find the mysterious Todd L.

Cindy pulled her purse closer to her side, placed her hand on her hip, and started inching toward the man. He adjusted his weight, cocksure, and dropped his cigarette to the ground. He crushed the butt and eyed the girl walking toward him.

“Come to papa,” he thought. “This is too easy.”

A ray of sunshine poked up over Sunrise Mountain, snaking its way through the canopy of Fremont Street, falling downward to pause a moment in a puddle of beer, then reflecting upwards to land on the shoulder of Vegas Vic.

“Quite a party last night Sally,” the large man beamed to his partner across the street. He attempted to adjust his cigarette.

“Yes, Vic. Quite a party.” Sassy Sally tried to straighten out her leg.

A young couple bounced out of the Glitter Gulch, into the empty street, running past a uniformed man sweeping up the trash and litter of the overnight. The young man, slightly old enough to drink, pulled the girl along as she pushed down her skirt. They laughed and skipped past the man with the broom. The janitor drew the clutter in faster.

“Still underway, it would seem,” said Vic.

“Yes, Vic,” Sassy replied as she tried to nod. Her neon eyes followed the couple down the canopy.

“They sure look happy.” Sassy’s skirt lit up and the neon tubing glowed bright pink around her hat. “You can feel the love all around us Vic.”

His handkerchief glowed bright orange in reply.

Cindy Lash set down her suitcase and looked up at the tall man with the cowboy hat sporting a welcoming smile and a frozen wave. The neon around his hat sparkled. Cindy was lost for a moment and the tall man seemed to say “Howdy.” She followed his eye to the cowgirl sitting atop the strip club named Glitter Gulch. Sally flickered and her neon eye seemed to wink back.

“I’ll bet you know a few secrets,” Cindy said as she picked up her bag. Hoping to find someone to talk to, she looked down Fremont Street. With the last flickering lights and neon extinguished, the sun had become more than just a yellow glow.

Just in from Fallbrook on the overnight bus, heat blasted Cindy in the face. Although the sun was struggling to peak past the hotel towers, the bit of sunlight still burned like a flame. She shaded her eyes and wiped sweat from her forehead. The beads of water dripped into her eyes carrying with them a burning sting.

She carelessly wiped them away with her hand and moved into the shade. She reached into her rose satchel and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. It was an crumpled itinerary of all the things she had ever planned to do in Sin City.

The list was rather short. Only a few tasks: see the lights of Vegas, visit Circus-Circus, and take a picture at the Welcome to Las Vegas sign. The abbreviated list, scrawled in a child’s script, was made during her first visit to Sin City when she was scarcely eight.

In big block letters Cindy had written at the bottom, *Kill Todd Lour….*

The last name was smudged and stained with tears. It could have been Lourin, Lourdes, or Lourdin. The name was a flimsy clue, yet Cindy saw these few words were enough for a small girl intent on revenge. She shuddered at the sight. The note brought back tears, and Cindy quickly brushed the away.

Now a month from 23, Cindy lacked life experience, yet what little she focused on this moment. She practiced her naïve charm. Her sweet air and blonde curls helped give people the impression they could grab one up on her. Overall, she understood how to finish things. Cindy closed the purse and considered her plans.

She nodded her head. Sure of her mission, Cindy figured she could take care of Todd L. and jump back on the bus bound for her mama in Salt Lake. Slam, bam, thank you mam. Something her dad used to say. She liked the idea.

Her mama was different. If mama had known about this stop, she would have rushed to talk Cindy out of stopping in Las Vegas. Mama was pragmatic. Cindy usually felt the opposite. If she was going to get over this thing, she needed to be a little like her mother and a lot like her dad.

Cindy smiled at the thought of her mother lecturing her on the reasons revenge wasn’t worth the effort. Since that day, Cindy thought of herself as a grown up. All the loss and the pain for too many years welled up in Cindy’s eyes. Flashes of the struggles to fit in and the fear of watching her remaining parent fall apart rolled across as bitter memories. Mama, and Cindy, had seen too much.

Who Todd L. was and where he was, Cindy had no idea. Considering her plans, Cindy believed her mama would rejoice when the man who killed her husband also lay in his own piss. Still the idea frightened Cindy, and she had a sudden doubt. She attempted to shrug off the feeling, forced a smile, and scratched off her first item: see the lights of Las Vegas.

Cindy folded up the list and tucked it into her pink purse. She placed the note neatly next to a picture of her mama and a .22 rimfire pistol with a pearl handle. She fingered the gun, a nervous purchase in a back alley pawn shop nearly four months ago. She almost left the gun behind, but the shop owner insisted she come pick it up a month later. She didn’t like the gun. “It’s the only tool I have,” she thought. It gave her a sense of empowerment as she stroked the handle.

She looked around Fremont Street. The lights on all the casinos were off. Behind her Sassy Sally flickered in blue, purple and yellow. Those few lights would have to do. “There,” she whispered. “I am off.”

Cindy only intended to leave Vegas after scratching everything off her list.