Worth Saving(2)

It's been three days. Three terrible days of trying to find a place to sleep and keep myself from the oncoming cold. Winter's coming and the temperature is dropping more and more every day, so sleeping outside isn't an option.

My first night out, I hitched a ride to McCarran Airport with a woman who believed she was taking me so I wouldn't miss my flight. When I got there, I found a spot where there were no people, and I slid underneath some seats to sleep. I'm sure some people saw me eventually, but they never disturbed me, and the security guards left me alone, too. But, I knew I couldn't keep that up, so the next night I took a cab to a friend's house and spent the night there. But again, I knew I couldn't stay. So, I had to leave.

I walked out of my friend's house and had nowhere to go. So, I wandered around, thinking about what my next move was going to be, because I refused to go back to my father. I needed money, and I needed it fast. That's how I ended up here.

I stand in the parking lot, staring at the sign on top of the inconspicuous building. It says Red Pony. I know it's a strip club, and the last thing I want to do is get naked in front of a man, especially after what just happened to me a few days ago. But, I need money or I'm not going to be able to survive out here much longer. And, everyone knows strippers make fast money. So, I decide to go in.

Maybe this will be the financial break I need to get on my feet. I can even make it temporary-earn enough money to get my life started, and then quit once I'm good.

I think of it as a jump start. It's a means to an end. As long as I don't have to go back to my dad, I'll do it. It'll be a few months or so, and then I'm done.

That's the plan.





Layla

Four Years Later

It’s cold tonight. Really cold. Might even be in the thirties.

The night sky is really clear, too. Not a cloud in sight. It’s always coldest when there aren’t any clouds in the sky. I’m not sure why that is, but I know it’s true, and that’s exactly how it is tonight. Cloudless. Cold as hell.

I press the brake pedal so my Nissan Maxima stops at the red light on Carter Street. Only a few blocks away now. My heart picks up speed just a little bit, so I look around the empty street to find something else to focus on. No one is out at this hour, except the tourists who seem to enjoy staying up all night walking The Strip. The people who actually live here in Vegas are in bed. It’s one-thirty in the morning on a Tuesday, but I’m up. I’m out here. This is my life.

I stare out my passenger window and see a stop sign down the road. I wonder why the hell someone would spray paint a stop sign. They painted over the “S” with red paint, and now the sign just reads “TOP.” Was that hilarious to someone? Did they go home that night and feel accomplished with what they’d done? Did they take pictures of it and post it on Instagram or Facebook? That’s ridiculous. What the hell is the matter with people?

I see the light change from red to green out of the corner of my eye. Something inside of me may have been hoping it would just get stuck and I’d have to sit here at this intersection forever. I wouldn’t mind. It’d be better than continuing on down the road and actually ending up at my destination. I know I have to go, but I don’t want to. Nonetheless, I step on the gas and let the car slowly push forward. I drive so slowly at first, it wouldn’t surprise me if a snail slithered its way past me. But, eventually I gain speed. I do the speed limit. Exactly the speed limit. Not even one over. I’m not in a rush.

I’ve lived here all my life. Good old Summerlin, Nevada, twenty minutes away from the Las Vegas Strip. It really is beautiful. Close enough to The Strip to be able to visit when I want—which is never—and far enough away that I can get some distance from it when I feel like I’ve had enough—which is all the time.

The only problem I have with Summerlin is that it’s always been shitty for me. Right from the jump—the day I was born. My deadbeat mother took me home, and only three years after she pushed me out of her, she decided I wasn’t worth all the trouble after all and took off. I have no idea where to, and I don’t even care to know. All I know is that she left. She made a choice, and now I just say f*ck her and move on. Not that she gave me much to move on to, since she left me with the worst possible parent ever. My father.

But, I’m not focusing on all of that right now. I’m looking at the lines in the road. They’re reflecting the light from my headlights really well as I drive. They look like they were just painted yesterday. Summerlin is like that, though. For some reason, everything looks brand new. I think if I wasn’t so emotionally detached all the time, I’d actually be impressed with how beautiful it always is. Even in February when the temperature drops, it really is beautiful and a lovely place to live—for everyone else. It’s a beauty for the people who have normal lives and normal jobs, and work normal hours with normal coworkers and normal bosses. This could be the best place ever if you’re normal. Unfortunately, I’m not normal, so none of that applies to me.

I make another right turn, and my destination is just a few hundred feet down the road. I slow down to five miles under the speed limit. Since there’s nobody else on the road right now, I don’t have to worry about someone pulling up behind me and blowing the horn.

As I pass the clubs on both sides of the street, I try to focus on the few people standing outside instead of where I’m going. A bunch of girls wearing the smallest, tightest clothes they could find in their closets, rubbing up against some of the ugliest men, who obviously have enough money to keep their attention. I look up at the stars in the clear sky and see the twinkle they have to them, almost like the low temperature has formed ice around them all and it reflects the light from my headlights, making them glisten. It’s a beautiful sky, but sometimes beauty just isn’t enough.