Cranberry Juice

The emergency room at the county hospital seemed too busy for a Tuesday morning. Tucked in every corner sat screaming babies with frantic mothers, homeless suffering from the heat, foreigners nursing hangovers, and Cindy with a gunshot in her arm.

She sat in the middle of a bed pushed into the hallway with her legs dangling over the edge. A gauze pad with a red circle of blood covered her arm. This part of the adventure she could have done without.
“All I found was cranberry juice,” Wallace said. He snuck up on Cindy as if she might hit him.

“Thanks.” Cindy refused to look at him. She put the bottle on her head and let the cold penetrate her headache. Wallace placed a towel on her neck.

Wallace felt sick. The shootout left a man dead, a hurt friend, and most of all, the end of a good place to stop for breakfast. This girl almost died. So close to the age of his youngest daughter. What a mess.

“This will be just a moment more,” a nurse said. “Can I get you anything?”

Cindy opened the bottle and took a sip. “Just let me go.”
“In due time, dear,” said the nurse.

“I just don’t understand how you could do hand the book over like that,” Cindy said. The nurse spun to answer and Wallace waved her on. “You just put the book in his hand.” Wallace nodded. He had handed over the book to Loudin’s bodyguard. After everything, the decision seemed prudent.

“You live through enough of these shootouts and you learn to live another day,” Wallace said. The answer sounded stupid and Cindy did not like it. The stranger probably would have killed her. Then again, he might have walked away. Either way, the whole mess stunk. “It’s just,” Cindy tailed off.

Her true nature showed through the facade of a strong girl. Deep down she feared the future. Her aunt in Salt Lake was all she had left. Her father shot dead. Her mother dead of a broken heart. She yearned to secure a better history. She wanted their lives to stand for something. She broke down and cried. Wallace wrapped his big hand on her good shoulder. Cindy rested on his arm.

“My dad always looked out for me.” Cindy wiped her eyes. “Even when we had nothing, he took care of me.” Cindy held back tears. Wallace patted her shoulder.

“The last thing he said was find Todd Loudin,” Cindy said. “But I was eight and my mother fell apart. She shut down. Our whole family died that day.”

The nurse rounded the corner. She stopped at Cindy’s bed and began unlocking the wheels.

“We will head over to x-ray and then a few stitches,” she said. “You can stay here. Won’t be too long.”
The nurse pointed Wallace to the waiting room. She wheeled Cindy through the doors and they disappeared around the corner.

To find Todd, Wallace did not need the book. He already knew how to call the man.

He wondered what Cindy planned to do. Was she looking for a job? If she planned to dance at the strip club, she missed that boat. The Glitter Gulch needed months of repair. Did Todd have something that belonged to her dad?

He pondered the situation. Cindy let on she needed to talk to Todd about her dad. Did she want revenge? It seemed one possibility. All together Wallace didn’t think Cindy could pull it off.

He reached into his jacket for his phone. A wad of bills, a pen, and a couple receipts fell out. He stuffed them back in his pocket. He dialed a number and waited.

“Sam, in two hours meet me at the neon boneyard,” Wallace told his associate. He snapped the phone shut as Cindy rode out into the waiting area.

“Sorry I took so long,” said the nurse. “She’s all sewed up and ready to go.” The nurse patted Cindy’s hand.  “You must rest dear.” Cindy nodded and smiled.

“Thank you for waiting,” Cindy said. “I guess you can drop me off.”
“Where will you go?”
“The bus station,” she said. “I’m off to my aunt in Utah. I don’t like it here.”
“Do you have to go right away?” Cindy wondered why Wallace wanted to keep her in Las Vegas.
“I can arrange a meeting with Mr. Loudin.”

Cindy sat in the wheelchair and cried. She then jumped out of the chair and hugged Wallace on the neck. He touched her arm and she starting to cry again. Wallace brushed away a tear as a flash of light bounced off the doorway. Cindy stared at the light as Wallace put away his handkerchief.

Paramedics wheeled Charlie out of the club through the mess of wires, broken glass, and water. A medic taped gauze on Cindy’s arm where a bullet broke the skin leaving a bleeding gash. Cuts and scratches covered her legs. “He’s going to live,” Wallace said. “How he didn’t die is anybody’s guess.”

How they all survived, nobody could tell. A flash of gunpowder played again in Cindy’s mind as the bullet sent a cascade of water over Bill’s head. Then the bullet came toward her and she froze in fear. The bullet threw up bits of cushion and wood behind her. She thought it had missed. However, a shock wave climbed her arm, and she found the bullet had hit her.

“You’ll need stitches,” a medic said. “I still can’t believe the gunfight happened,” Cindy said. “I might have died.” Cindy smoothed out her dress and tried to cover up her scratches. “I’ll wrap those too.”

The medic squirted out some cream and moved his fingers over the cuts. His cold hands sent another shock through Cindy. She shivered. He paused. She waved him on and closed her eyes. On this trip, she planned to find the man responsible for her dad’s death, kill him, and escape the desert. Instead, she landed in a shootout and a robbery.

This pickle couldn’t taste any sourer. Cindy sighed. She had two choices; either give up or figure this out. Walking away took little effort. Staying until she finished the job meant starting over. The whole thing seemed too much to think about.

Cindy opened her eyes. The club appeared a mess. Tubes of neon glass littered the stage and a blanket lay over Bill’s body. Cindy spotted his right hand before a guy in white coveralls covered all of Bill.

A ruby ring went around Bill’s thumb. She wondered why she had not picked it out before. She then thought about the leather book and realized Wallace must have hidden the book in his jacket.

The medic finished her legs. “We should take you to the hospital,” he said. Cindy tried to stand but fell backward into the seat.

“I think I need to rest more.” Cindy felt faint. She forced a smile. The medic touched her arm. “Let me go get a wheelchair.” He rushed off leaving Cindy alone.

Wallace and another man stood in the far corner talking. The stranger was bigger than Wallace and wore a black suit that looked tailored. Cindy saw the outline of a revolver hanging beneath his jacket. He poked Wallace on the chest with a big index finger. The man glowered straight into Wallace’s face.

Wallace turned toward Cindy. He smiled and rolled his eyes. He turned back to the man and moved his arm away. The stranger stepped back waving both hands behind him. Wallace reached into his jacket and handed the man the black book. Cindy jumped forward. He was handing over the key to her world.

The stranger smiled and placed the book into his jacket. He put out his hand and Wallace gave it a firm shake. The man turned and went out the back door.

“Your traitor?” Cindy screamed.

Wallace focused on her face until the medic returned with her wheelchair. She slid into the chair and sat fuming. “That was Loudin’s bodyguard,” Wallace said. “And he wanted the book.”

Cindy knew Wallace would help her find Todd Loudin, but she said it anyway. “It doesn’t matter,” she shouted. “I will find Mr. Loudin with or without you.”

Todd Loudin heard the shots below his office. They sounded close. He cocked his head to listen. Two more shots and screaming. He rushed to the window.

A man dressed in all black ran away from the Glitter Gulch. Behind him, a half-dressed girl flailed on the ground with a hole in her leg. Another girl wearing only a bikini tried to help her. Green bills blew out of a broken grocery bag. A couple bills stuck to the girl’s bloody leg.

A man in a Hawaiian shirt, a straw fedora, and blue slippers held up his hands. A woman screamed and covered her hair. Todd chuckled. Imagine the sensation back home if she lost both her money and her head in Las Vegas.

Behind the man in black, a revolver spun around in one hand as a small duffel bag followed behind in the other. Todd leaned out the window and followed the stranger’s run.

The man crossed into the alley with the duffel flying behind him. Thin orange neon roped down the outside of the Golden Gate Hotel pointing to the alley. Todd took in the commotion and fear.

He looked away from the spectacle across the varnished room. He locked eyes on his bodyguard standing watch near a large wooden door. The bodyguard nodded. He secured his gun, turned, and left the room.
“Well boys,” Todd laughed. “All in a day’s work.”

He plopped down behind a desk of polished marble and leather. Todd pulled out a cigar from his jacket, cut off the end, drew it up to his mouth, and licked the end. He reached into a drawer behind him for a match. Lighting the cigar, he settled in for a smoke.

“I think a guy just robbed your place,” said a bookish man wearing a blue tie. He punched the sentence with a loud laugh. Two other men fidgeted and motioned for him to be quiet. The man shrugged through a nervous laugh. Todd leaned into the three men seated in front of him.

“I doubt he will get far.” He punched the desk with his cigar end. He brought it back to his mouth. The bookish man stared straight ahead as Todd chewed on the cigar.

A wailing siren broke the tension. Two black and whites jumped over the sidewalk cutting through a line of tourists. Each police car stopped away from the strip club.

Todd looked out the window again. The bookish man tightened his tie around his neck and swallowed some dust. The other two men repeated their hand gestures. He shrugged in resignation.

Two police officers found Feather crying with a ripped bag of money and a gunshot in her leg. They hunched behind their car doors shouting for her to give up. Two other officers stood off to the side. Feather pulled herself around and reached into the bag. The officers jumped back.

She held up a handful of cash. Dark purple blood mixed with the green cash. The man in the straw fedora dropped to the ground. Other tourists ran into a casino. Feather cried on the sidewalk holding up the crumpled mess.

An officer stood up from behind his car door. “We have you,” he shouted. “Just give up.” He aimed his weapon at her. The other officers circled her.

Feather sat frozen with one hand reaching and the other covering her thigh. She lowered her head and let out a whimper. A bloody dollar bill blew across Fremont toward the man in the fedora. He scooped it up, wiped away the blood, and stuck it in his pocket.

Two officers tackled Feather, and she kicked her feet under their weight. Two others walked inside the Glitter Gulch at a slow pace.

Todd surveyed the cacophony under the canopy. He surveyed the girl, the money, and the arrest. He turned to the three men.

“Someone should wash that blood off the sidewalk,” he said. “It’s bad for business.”
The three men stared straight ahead. They could only imagine the scene below. “Gentlemen,” Todd said. “I don’t even know why we’re here.”

The bookish man in the blue tie jumped up and started to talk.
“We have a quick proposal.”

One of Todd’s bodyguards grabbed him at the shoulders. His shoes scuffed along the floor as he danced out the large wooden door. “I can’t help you today,” Todd shouted.

The other men rushed to help their friend and tried to keep him from shouting back at Todd. He waved them off and turned back to the Glitter Gulch.

A man dressed in black shifted his weight in the far booth with the girls. Feather hung on him like a white dishcloth and her breasts touched his shirt. She patted his arm when he laughed. The man chewed on a swizzle stick and a baseball hat hung low over his forehead. Cindy noted the corner of his eye when he smiled at Feather. “They seem full of energy,” Cindy said.

Bill looked behind him. “The night always brings out the happy.” He turned around and eyed Cindy.

“Who’s the guy?” she asked. Cindy thought the stranger seemed out of place. “Money can make you happy. Dreams can make you happy,” Bill said. “And we have enough of both to make you almost giddy.” He patted Cindy’s hand. Bill ignored her question.

“You could use some happy, right?” Bill aimed to sign up the girl before the party started again. He smiled a wide grin. Cindy looked behind him to the far corner of the bar. Wallace followed her gaze.

“Likely a guy who figures he might go home with Feather,” Wallace said. Bill twisted his head. “Why don’t you all go home now,” he shouted.

The laughter stopped and Feather fidgeted. The stranger leaned forward and Feather let go his arm.
“Go on. Go home,” Bill said.

The dancers slid across the booth and rolled out onto the floor. Feather leaned down to the seated stranger, stuck out her tongue, and touched his lips. She twirled around pulling her G-string into her crack. She and the other girl marched off to the backstage.

Only Cindy saw the dancers leave. Wallace looked down at his hands and Bill continued to grin. Cindy watched the stranger slide further back into the dark. He spit out the straw. She followed the eye until it blinked into the dark.

Bill waited for Cindy to answer and Wallace looked tired. Cindy smiled and reached for Bill’s leather book. “Can you give me Mr. Loudin’s number now?” She expected Bill would open the book and flip to the number. Instead, he dropped his hand down fast covering the book.

“I think you already know how to reach Todd,” Dupree said. He sat taller in his seat. Wallace leaned away from him. “I think he sent you down here to test me.”

She felt the blood leave her face and her bottom lip trembled. “Honestly, I never met Mr. Loudin,” Cindy stuttered. “I just want to learn more about my dad.”

Bill leaned in to the girl. “If Todd thinks I will fall for this trick,” he paused. “He’s got another thing coming.”

The smile on his face faded into a snarl. Cindy flinched back into her seat. Bill’s teeth moved toward her and she froze. The menacing grin grew closer, but she did not feel fear from them. Behind the teeth, the stranger moved closer holding a big, black gun.

A red flash spilled aquarium water over Bill’s head. The black gun flashed two more times. A second bullet smashed the glass and the entire aquarium spilled out over Bill and Wallace.

The detective pulled up a 38-special from his holster. Bill jumped away from the booth and slipped in the water as a light exploded and fell next to him. Sparks jumped off the floor and Bill convulsed.

Wallace pumped two shots behind him and the stranger jumped over the bar. Charlie stood motionless with a glass in one hand and a dirty rag in the other. A flash of white shattered the mirror behind him. Charlie jumped over the bar and pulled his leg onto the stage. Cindy could hear him crying in pain.

“Get up off the floor and stand on the seat,” Wallace shouted. “Those sparks will kill you.” Cindy scrambled up onto the seat. She pushed her dress down and pulled her legs in.

“Grab the cash and let’s get out of here,” the stranger shouted. Feather looked for the money. The stranger stood at the front of the bar with Feather and the other dancer behind him. Feather reached over the bar for the money bag. The other dancer reached into the till and took out the bills.

Wallace pointed his gun at the stranger. The man pointed his gun back. “You don’t want a fight,” the stranger said.

The stranger ran down the stage with the dancers following him. He turned toward Wallace as he reached Bill’s body on the floor. Sparks continued to leap out of the water.

Wallace hunched down between his seat and the roof of the booth. His arm reached out far away from his body as the small space doubled him over. He lacked the advantage to hit the man.

“I swear I will shoot you,” Wallace said. The stranger pointed the gun at Cindy. She stood bent in the seat, cringed, and waited for the gun to fire. Wallace looked at Cindy and back at the stranger. The stranger continued to look at Cindy.

Wallace looked back at the girl. He recognized fear. “Like my daughter,” he whispered.

Wallace let go of his aim, let the gun spin to the table, and dropped it. The gun rested next to the leather book.
The stranger and the two dancers sprinted out the door onto Fremont Street.

Charlie let out a scream. Cindy grabbed for the book but missed it. Wallace jumped onto the stage and ran to the back of the bar with the book and the gun in his hand. She aimed her right leg at the floor as a spark jumped up. She slammed back into the booth.

She looked around the club. Wallace reached for the bartender. Cindy rolled over the table to the other seat and pulled herself up. She crawled the line of booths until she reached Wallace and Charlie.

“He needs an ambulance,” Wallace said. Charlie lay wedged between the seat and the stripper pole. Blood pooled around a hole in his left leg. Wallace reached over the bar and returned with a towel. He placed it on the bloody mess and Charlie winced.

Cindy counted the number of bubbles rising from the bottom of the aquarium behind Bill’s head. A black and white fish floated through the bubbles followed by a yellow and blue. The black and white was missing an eye. Otherwise, each fish looked happy to be swimming in a strip club.

“You should add a clown fish.” Bill looked over at her. “Like Finding Nemo.”

“You are an odd,” Bill paused. “No, make that a pretty, odd girl.”

Bill filed away the question about Todd L. for the moment. It could wait. What he needed right now was a fresh dancer. He leaned around the aquarium and looked down the length of the runway. He shouted at the girls finishing breakfast.

“Feather. Get up here and dance.” Bill pointed to the stage. “Charlie, drop the lights and turn on some music.”
Feather looked down the stage. A second girl pointed with both hands toward where Bill was sitting with Cindy. Feather huffed and slid across the padded seat.

“Move it!” shouted Bill. “Charlie. Lights and Music.” Bill pointed at the controls.

Charlie put down a glass as Feather swung up on stage and stepped over to the DJ booth. Charlie lowered the lights, powered up the strobes, and started the music.

A slow, grinding, boom blasted into the room. The big man in the far corner put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. Feather danced down the length of the stage toward the booth where Bill and Cindy were sitting.

“It’s easy,” Bill said. He swayed back and forth in the booth as Feather danced. “You just bounce to the music.”
Feather reached a stripper pole and pulled herself around, dipping her head to the runway, and sliding the length of the pole. At the bottom, Feather twisted around and started toward Cindy. As she got closer, Bill pulled a dollar bill out of his vest pocket. Feather rocked her bottom toward Bill who slipped the dollar into her G-string.

Bill turned to Cindy. “See, easy money.”

“It may be easy,” Cindy said. “But I won’t be here too long.”

“They all say that kid.” Bill laughed. “And yet, here we are.”

Wallace Jackson eyed Feather as she danced near Bill and the girl. Sizing Cindy up, she reminded him of his daughter: too naïve to know what is good for her, and yet convinced she can do anything.

Once a casino detective, Wallace now worked late on his own and usually stopped in for breakfast. It was the one place no one would think to grab a plate of eggs. The Glitter Gulch offered a working man solitude and a place to think. Bill noticed Wallace sitting at the back of the room. “You planning to hide back there?” he asked, motioning for the big man to join him.

Wallace stood up and adjusted his shoulder holster. From his jacket, he pulled out a roll of money and peeled out a twenty. “Thanks Charlie. Not too runny and the bacon perfectly crisp.” He handed over the money.
Charlie nodded and went back to washing the dishes. He understood he could keep the change.

“Wallace here is a decorated Texas Ranger,” said Bill coyly. He tipped an imaginary hat at the big man. “The first black Ranger in Texas, in fact,” he boasted. “I was never a Ranger, miss,” said Stony. “Bill gets things wrong sometimes.” He leaned closer to Cindy’s face as if he planned to whisper in her ear.

“What he meant to say, I suppose, was I proudly served as the first black deputy sheriff in Palmer County, Texas.” He emphasized Palmer County in a Texas drawl.

Wallace stretched out a big hand and backed away from the girl. Cindy took a hold of his big hand. It was soft as a deerskin glove. He shook her small hand and adjusted his cowboy hat. His head nearly touched the top of the enclosed booth.

“What brings you to this sideshow, miss?” he asked, looking around the room. Feather was slowly slinking back down the runway. “I have big plans for my new girlfriend,” said Bill. He slid over to give Wallace a seat. Cindy moved away. “I’m not his girlfriend.”

“If you’re not his girlfriend, what brings you here?” Wallace half expected to know the answer before she spoke.

“Just passing through on my way home. I thought I’d see a few sights.”

Wallace figured she would say she was broke, needed a job, and could make good money here. He took another look at Cindy. On second thought, she looked smarter than that and seemed to be hiding another reason. He smiled. She didn’t look like the wasted dancer type.

“Says she’s looking for Todd Loudin,” said Bill. Cindy coughed juice back into the glass. The cocky jerk had just given her Todd Loudin’s name. She pretended the juice made her choke. Bill tapped on his leather book and smiled at Cindy.

“Does she now?” said Wallace. “Why would she be looking for trouble?”

Bill and Wallace waited for an answer. Bill wondered what she knew about Todd. “I’m not looking for any trouble,” Cindy said shyly. “I thought Mr. Loudin might have known my dad when he was alive.”

Bill DuPree kept an eye open on Fremont Street for fresh beauty to keep the Glitter Gulch filled with long legs and shapely thighs. If they had a nice set of breasts, well, that was cream on the stick.

As the manager, he had seen them arrive and leave. A girl would need a firm foundation to attract the John’s, Dick’s, and George Washington’s stuck in the G-strings of their eye candy. Too bad each piece of candy got sucked dry and spit back out. The girls came, and the girls left. Beauty never lasted too long in the Gulch.

Bill watched as Cindy hesitantly walked across the street toward him. “You have a nice sashay, girl.” Cindy smiled and took her time walking toward him.

“You must be parched,” Bill said. He gazed at her open dress. Taking stock, he ran his blue eyes until he stared in her green eyes. “Let ol’ Bill buy you a drink.”

Cindy smiled and shook her head no. She looked at his shoes; a nice pair of burgundy alligators. Bill touched her arm and gave it a squeeze. “Tell me your name.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an address book. He opened the worn book and retrieved a pen from behind the pages. “You look like a Tammy.” Cindy reviewed the pages. What if this book could lead her to Todd L.? She glanced back at Vegas Vic. He just smiled.

Cindy reached for the book, but Bill drew it back close to his chest. “Do you put everyone’s name in there?” she asked. “Only the important people I meet.” He reopened the book and drew the pen close to the page.

“So what is it, Tammy?” he paused, “or maybe Julie Lynn?” Cindy giggled and touched the leather. “I don’t know if I want to be in your little book.”

“Now, girl, at some point everybody pretty, rich, or famous ends up in here.” Bill drew closer to her. “And girl, you fit pretty to a tee.” He took Cindy’s hand and drew her closer to the club.”Let’s go inside and we’ll talk about making you one of my friends.”

The Glitch Gulch looked like a downtown diner inside with small booths stacked tightly together for intimate conversation around a stage. All were empty expect at the back. A few girls sat gossiping over breakfast near the DJ cage. They stopped laughing as Bill and Cindy entered. Across from them, a man sat eating a plate of eggs. He stared downward and purposely brought up his fork. He did not acknowledge the visitors.

“We can sit here,” said Bill pointing to the nearest booth. “Bring us some mimosas, Charlie.” The bartender set down the glass he was polishing with a dirty towel.

“I don’t drink.” Bill interrupted her, “You don’t drink or you don’t drink too much?” He let out a boisterous laugh at the joke.

Cindy looked around the room. The stage resembled a movie set with fluorescent paint outlining fake Roman columns and grand accents. Neon wrapped around it. Shining at night, the effect likely would seem regal and stimulating. Without the shroud of night, the stage resembled a carnival stage.

Charlie rounded the bar carrying a carafe of orange juice and a bottle of sparkling wine. He offered Cindy a glass. “Just some orange juice, please.”

“How will I get your drunk on just OJ?” Bill said in jest. Cindy leaned away from his face. She realized he wasn’t joking. Despite his uncouth exterior, Cindy played along to get to his book.

“Charlie, give her just a splash of bubbly.” Cindy covered her left hand over her orange juice and pushed the tip of the wine bottle away. Charlie set the champagne next to the orange juice. Cindy leaned closer to Bill and set down her glass. She reached over to touch the top of Bill’s rough hand.

“Tell me more about the famous people in that little book of yours,” she whispered. Bill puffed up. He took pride in his list of contacts.

“Just the movers and shakers of Vegas, kitten,” he boasted. “And the beautiful people.” He took ahold of Cindy’s hand and caressed her knuckles. He moved over her wrist. “So beautiful, why don’t you tell me your name.”

Cindy allowed Bill to caress her hand. She leaned closer. “Is there a Todd L. in your book,” she whispered.
Bill looked at her and smiled.

“What would you do to find out?”

Cindy dropped his hand and pushed away. Bill’s smile turned flat, and he twisted his head to the side eyeing the fresh girl. Cindy was working him.

“He was a friend of my dad,” she quickly said. She turned to look around the bar. She turned back to Bill. “It’s not important,” she smiled and touched the orange juice to her lips. She took a slow gulp and hoped Mr. Distasteful didn’t see her hand shaking.

Bill stared past Cindy pondering why this girl would be interested in Todd Loudin. “Is the old man testing me?” he thought. “Does Loudin know about the skim?”

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.