Under Broken Lights

The wind cut through the young men’s hair like a blade, cooling their faces, which were red and sweating beneath the desert sun. The rusted car tore along the dusty freeway, the roof down and radio blaring, with all the grace of a herd of cows. Clouds of scorching sand billowed away from the tyres like smoke.

The two men weren’t very much alike in appearance, except for the wild smiles both wore across their faces. Still, this was common in brothers, no matter how close they were. They hadn’t seen another living soul for miles, and the thought of blinding lights and roaring music in the city on the horizon only made the driver push his tattered sneaker down on the gas, until they were going fast enough to kill.

The younger of the two men was driving, three fingers resting casually on the frame of the open window, with the other hand hovering between the gear lever and the wheel. A gently smouldering cigarette was balanced between his thumb and forefinger. His wire rimmed glasses hung off the end of his nose with a kind of childish elegance, framing his muddy eyes. Twisting his face out of the wind, he raised the ever shrinking cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply.

The elder sibling leaned his head on one hand, looking out through curtains of streaming, black hair to the barren fields. His eyes were lazy, and he had the look of a man without a care in the world. However, his fingers were drumming anxiously on his thigh, and it was clear that he was desperate for the old car to pick up speed. The sooner they were out of this wasteland, the better.

“Hey, Rick?” the driver shot at his passenger.

“What?”

“You think we got enough cash?” he continued absently, throwing a questioning glance at his brother before turning back to the empty road. He took a final drag of his cigarette before flicking it into the sand, the tip still burning orange.

“You what, Kurt?” Ricky replied, half dazed by the sun and half deafened by the wind.

“We got enough cash?” Kurt hollered again, his voice struggling to rise above the growl of the engine and the crooning of Bob Marley.

“Sure,” answered Ricky shortly, lifting his head to see his little brother properly. Ricky knew Kurt had been dying to take his old banger out for a spin, and he certainly looked like he was having fun. He hadn’t properly passed his driver’s test yet, but no one really cared, out in places like this. If all went to plan, they would be getting up to much worse tonight than a little driving without a licence. He tipped his head against his headrest, glaring right back into the sun with his easy smile still in place.

“How much did you get?” Kurt asked, disrupting Ricky’s musings. He ran a hand through his wavy hair, hardly caring that only a moment later, the wind blew it right back over his face.

“Huh?” Ricky lifted his head, wishing his brother would shut up and put his foot down.

“How much?” Kurt repeated impatiently, urging the pedal beneath his foot as near to the threadbare carpet as it would go.

“Enough, I said,” Ricky told him idly, closing his eyes. “It’s only one night. Besides, we can always make more, can’t we? It’s fucking Vegas, they give the stuff away!”

Kurt didn’t answer, but the grin which stretched over his face at his brother’s words was all that was needed to tell what he was thinking. They both fell silent once again, engulfed in fantasies of casinos, booze, chicks and cash. They were going to get rich tonight, they both knew it, and with luck, they wouldn’t be waking up alone in their hotel beds by the time the trip was over.

Spring is meant for moments like this, he thought to himself, stretching his arms behind his neck. No work, no classes in the morning, not a fucking thing except blue sky.

Ricky thought about all the people who he would see tonight, all the booze he would drink, and especially about the women. He didn’t have a girlfriend, thank God. He wasn’t looking to be tied down. This was a city of partying, of intoxication, of not giving a shit.

He had a clear picture in his mind of a tall, sleek, smiling woman, whose long dress clung to every curve. A smirk stretched across his lips as he imagined this girl, thinking that no matter how good she looked in her dress, he would much rather see her with it off. In his mind’s eye, she kindly obliged.

He dropped his hand over the side of the car, enjoying the sensation of the rushing wind between his extended fingers. A couple of times his skin brushed against the blistering metal of the car door. The radio was crackling slightly, but neither of the men paid it any notice.

Ricky drifted off into his thoughts as the road slipped by. The old tyres printed ruts into the dirt, only to be covered by the sand settling back down to earth behind them as they cruised along.

Spring break, here we come.


***


Four hours later, and the headlamps of cars and trucks were blurred against the black road. The sun’s final beams had melted away from the sky, and now a million stars all fought to brighten the night. The desert was silent, and in the distance, nothing could be seen but for the edge of the yawning earth.

Turn your head, however, and you would have to close your eyes as they landed on the blinding lights that are Las Vegas. Neon bulbs seemed to glow at every corner, and the electronic buzzing and clanging which seemed to populate every doorway grew louder with each second that the brothers stood in the open doorway of the casino. Everywhere they turned their heads, there were people, there was noise, and there was light, brighter than they had ever seen it.

“This place is wild,” muttered Kurt as he stood with his brother between the sliding doors. In front of them, they could both see a feverish crowd of people clustered round the bar, groups of people screaming and cheering at the tables, hundreds of coin machines and an awful lot of security guards. Everyone looked so glamorous, and the whole place was bristling with life. It was pretty wild indeed.

“Stop whimpering and come on,” Ricky replied eagerly, flashing Kurt an exhilarated smile before wrenching his brother’s arm and pulling him into the glittering room. He couldn’t look enough at all the people, crowded around the tables and the machines, joking and drinking with one another. It was intimidating, but it was also exciting, and as his wandering eyes lighted on the blonde cocktail waitress who was walking past, he knew instantly that the place would live up to his expectations.

They found their way first to the bar, standing as an island in the centre of the place. It was surrounded by people who already seemed to be pissed out of their heads; Kurt avoided them nervously, thinking that someone was bound to see that he was almost too young to be here.

However, Ricky refused to let go of his brother’s arm, so he had no choice but to be led right up to the drinks counter; within twenty seconds of Ricky slamming a couple of dollars onto the counter, an icy bottle was shoved into his hand.

“What are you looking so scared for?” Ricky questioned, tipping half a litre of beer down his throat as they sat down. Kurt shrugged, imitating Ricky and taking a massive gulp from his bottle. Ricky raised an eyebrow as Kurt began to splutter, trying to hold back his laughter at his brother’s stupidity. Kurt coughed into his hand, leaning forwards on the bar to try and make it look as though he was merely clearing his throat.

“Better?” Ricky remarked as Kurt straightened up. He received only a sarcastic smile as an answer. “C’mon, drink up, this place closes in five hours!” He laughed, and as though to emphasise this, he brought the mouth of his bottle up to his lips and drained the rest, allowing his tongue to collect the last few drops from the cold glass.

Kurt couldn’t help but hand it to Ricky – he looked so natural in the midst of all this chaos, so undeniably cool. He would have no problem hooking up tonight. He wasn’t sure whether he fit in with all of this, but even so, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to leave before he’d had the time of his life.  Like his brother, he wanted to meet people here, wanted to drink and gamble and fuck all night.

In perfect unison, the two men exchanged quick, wide eyed grins. Kurt swigged once again from his bottle, feeling certain that he could already feel the alcohol rushing up to his brain. Of course, it was probably just the excitement that Saturday night in Vegas usually brings.

About as far away from the sliding doors as it was possible to get, there was a small, round poker table, a little dirtier than the rest. The pale man who sat behind it had sleek, black hair which hung over his sunken eyes, casting most of his face into shadow. His jaw was firm. At a glance, his expression looked cold, but really, he was just feeling tired. Business had been slow for him tonight. In this part of town, appearance was everything; his creased shirt and long nails gave away nothing of his talent.

Unlike most of the people nearby, he looked anything but excited.

The table was bare apart from the man himself, and a slightly tattered deck of cards which he was shuffling idly, without looking down at his hands. His slender fingers moved each of the cards automatically, giving the impression that he had had much practise at this. His eyes flickered from one corner of the noisy room to the other, appearing more bored than anything else. He wished he could smoke.

Sighing to himself, he stopped fidgeting with the cards, and laid them flat on the felt topped table. He wouldn’t get anyone coming near him if he looked anxious. Absently, he swept his hands across the black silk of his smooth, slightly stained waistcoat, pausing for a second to wipe a couple of fingerprints off his gleaming nametag. He read the inscription upside-down; Frank, Circa Casino.

The metal blades of the ceiling fan whirred above his head, causing the top card of his deck to flutter, threatening to fly away from the rest. He sat in a stupor, his shoulders tense, paying little attention to the punters, chattering and slamming their cocktails onto the greasy bar. His fingers drummed softly on the tabletop, the only visible sign of his impatience.

His elbows were beginning to ache from leaning against the hard table. He tilted back on his creaky chair, balancing on two legs. He was desperate to roll up his shirt sleeves, as he was beginning to sweat underneath the bright lights, but he knew he would get hell from his boss if he showed any signs of unprofessionalism.

Frank licked his cracked lips, counting back to the last time anyone had ventured over to his small table. He guessed it was about half an hour ago. Even then, it only took five minutes before the guy was cleaned out. He was pretty shitfaced, by the looks of it.

Someone threw a die to his right; the clattering of plastic on wood was soon followed by a sigh of annoyance, which was a pretty familiar sound to anyone working at this place. A shout, a tangle of slurs and curses quickly ensued from Frank’s left. He didn’t bother turning his head; without even looking, he knew that it would be coming from some guy with short legs and a round face, with a glass in one hand and a fist in the other.

Frank knew this place like the back of his grimy hand.

They have no idea, he thought bitterly to himself. These leeches have no idea what it’s like to watch people drinking and laughing until morning, without even so much as a quick cigarette break to get you through the next three hours. They couldn’t give a shit about the guys dealing the cards, so long as they get their money.

They don’t know how fucking lonely it gets.

The sour smell of burnt out lamps and whiskey wafted through Frank’s nostrils as a waiter walked by, carrying a plastic tray heaped with empty glasses. The look on his face was very similar to Frank’s; downright exhausted. Frank watched as the waiter pushed open a door marked “private”, quickly shoved the tray inside, and stood back, wiping his hands on his regulation waistcoat. Frank watched him until he turned around, and then caught his attention with a brief cock of his head. The waiter smiled wearily.

“You’ll be waiting all night with this lot,” he remarked, to which Frank laughed, without a trace of humour on his face. The waiter tugged slightly at his bowtie before heading back over to the bar, where there was already a queue of customers. Frank couldn’t make out any faces, but he had been here long enough to know that the people holding the glasses would be smiling much more genuinely than the people who handed them out.

He noticed two men sitting side by side at the bar, their backs turned to him. He could see that they were both grasping brown bottles in their right hands, sucking from them as if they hadn’t drunk for days. He saw them moving their heads this way and that. Their faces never looked towards him, but he could tell they would be looking just as excited, just as thrilled to be a part of this sleazy place as everyone else.

Frank offered the strangers a scowl they couldn’t possibly see, and once again picked up his deck. He shuffled through it in silence, the cards moving deftly between his fingers. His table always seemed to be deserted, even during Spring Break.

The brothers had no idea they were being watched. They were both already onto their third drink of the night, and they weren’t planning on stopping there. They barely had time to exchange two words between gulps, but they were both practically speechless from awe and anticipation. The alcohol was mixing with their blood and buzzing about in their heads, and right now, they didn’t want to think about anything except which table they were going to start winning their money at.

Ricky, sitting on the left, turned his head towards a roulette wheel just ahead of them, around which three tall, heavily made-up women were standing. They were all giggling, tipping back their martinis and sharing coy smiles with the blond-haired man in staff uniform standing opposite them. They certainly looked promising.

“Whaddya think?” Ricky nudged his brother, not taking his eyes off the girls, now fluttering their eyelashes at one another. Kurt gulped down his last mouthful of beer and looked over to where Ricky was staring.

“Mmm?” Kurt grunted uninterestedly, but as he caught sight of the three girls, his lips stretched into a slow grin. The one in the middle lifted her head for a second, and her eyes seemed to connect with his, almost as intoxicating as the alcohol. Though the lower half of her body was obscured by the table, he imagined that she would have long, golden legs, that she hopefully wouldn’t be afraid of sharing.

“They look good enough?” Kurt tipped his head to one side as though assessing his answer. The thought of walking up to total strangers might have scared him an hour ago, but right now he felt more confident than he ever remembered feeling before. These girls would be no problem.

“Let’s get over there before I wake up,” he replied teasingly, slicking his hair back and standing up from his leather stool. Ricky followed quickly, not wanting to be beaten to the mark by his little brother. Kurt was smiling before he even reached the table, determined not to make a fool of himself.

At this moment, Frank glanced upwards from his cards, checking to see whether anyone nearby looked at all interested, and almost by accident, spotted the two men he had seen only a couple of minutes ago. They both seemed to have finished their drinks; they were standing up and heading towards a long table, bathed in the light of thousands of yellow bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

Then, for a split second, one of them turned his head. For the first time, Frank could see the face behind all that black hair, and his lips parted in astonishment.

He had never before been so sure of someone’s beauty. The stranger’s skin seemed to glow, even in the harsh light of the casino. His cheeks were dusted with pink, but they were still smooth, not flushed and hot. He looked quite young, and yet totally adult. Though he was much too far away for Frank to see, he was sure that his eyes were pitch black. Frank felt his own cheeks begin to colour as he stared at this man, totally forgetting his previous thoughts.

However, they all came rushing back as he watched the man, still following his friend, approach the table, around which three girls were standing. It occurred to him that they seemed to be trying to break the record for the world’s dumbest smile, and for a second, he was certain that the two men would keep walking. It would take only the stupidest of men to be interested in women like that.

But instead they stopped, both casually leaning their hands against the wooden table and grinning smartly at each of the women in turn. Frank quickly closed his mouth, remembering that there may be people looking, wondering why the hell he was drooling. He watched the table again; the girls were greeting the men with their phoney smiles.

He felt almost a tiny twinge of betrayal that this man could possibly find anything in these girls worth admiring. They were nothing but plastic.

They were all talking now. Unconsciously, Frank’s fingers tightened on his deck of cards. One of the women, to whom the skinnier of the men was standing unnaturally close, turned her head towards one of her girlfriends, and Frank was allowed a momentary glimpse at the black-eyed man’s smile.

At once, Frank felt something warm burning deep into his stomach. He couldn’t explain it, but just seeing this man’s smile seemed to make him want to smile back, even though the stranger hadn’t done more than glance once in his direction. It didn’t matter that he was feeling so miserable. He was sure he had never seen such a beautiful smile as the one drawn across this man’s ruby lips.

But then he realised that the smile was only meant for those stupid girls, and at once, that warm sensation turned sickening. He couldn’t understand. His polished, perfect looks could grab him any girl he wanted, so why them? Frank found it hard to believe that this guy could be so shallow. He was just too perfect to be wasted on these sluts.

Appearance is everything…

Frank had seen girls like this before. They only wanted someone with charm, and enough money to get a room for the night. They couldn’t see the true person behind that smile, and though Frank knew that he had never even met this man, he also knew that this guy couldn’t really care about these girls. He didn’t give a shit about anything beyond their looks.

He just wants one thing, Frank thought. One, meaningless thing.

Deciding that sighing out loud would be just a little too pathetic, Frank concentrated all his thoughts once again on his cards, ignoring the five strangers as best as he could. What did it really matter? He saw this happen every day, so why did he suddenly care? Big deal, so this guy likes these girls. Sometimes that’s just the way it goes. And it’s not like Frank would have had a shot with him, since he was obviously straight. How could he possibly feel jealous?

But that wasn’t it. He had really thought that this job would mean he could meet people whenever he liked, make friends, and have fun. But no one ever sticks around long in this place. How can you possibly make a friend with someone you’re never going to see again in your life? They’re all here for one night, one, meaningless night, and then they go back home, to their real lives. It was always them having the fun, always them meeting people and making friends.

Always someone else.


***


“Ouch!”

Ricky clutched at his stinging face as the girl turned away, throwing him a dirty look over her shoulder as she went. Ricky swayed slightly where he stood, blinking in confusion and disappointment. He had only been talking to her. Maybe it was a little too soon to be groping her, but the slap, in his opinion, was unnecessary. Well, she was ugly anyway, he told himself, grabbing his empty beer bottle from the table and taking a swig of air.

“Unlucky, man,” he heard his brother call. Apparently he felt the need to shout even though he was two feet away. Ricky looked up, ready to receive a sympathetic smile from Kurt, but immediately saw that he had already turned his attention back to his own girl, who seemed to have no qualms with sucking his face in the middle of a crowd of people.

Ricky was a little too drunk to be able to feel annoyed about this. He stuck his hand into his pocket, thinking he might have more luck after a couple of drinks, but when he opened his fist, he saw he was holding nothing but an old receipt and some pennies. He scowled and shoved them back in his pocket. He was sure he could remember winning about two hundred dollars, but then it occurred to him that he had probably lost it all in his next bet.

He had no idea what time it was. The place seemed noisier than ever. Lights were appearing from every corner of the room, and he could feel the music in his chest. Someone jostled him as they staggered past, cheering about how much they had won. Ricky couldn’t help but think that even though all this had seemed exciting a few hours ago, it was now making him feel a little sick. He guessed he just wasn’t used to drinking so much.

“I’m gonna get some air,” he told Kurt, but from the way his hands were inching themselves down the woman’s back, it was obvious he was a little preoccupied. Ricky shrugged, and headed off in some other direction, his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes half closed.

He soon found himself outside. The air was still warm, even though it was long past midnight, and he was no closer to escaping the lights or the noise than he had been inside. The sight of cars streaming past was making him dizzy. He was very much aware of the smell of alcohol which was following him.

He didn’t really like to admit it to himself, but things hadn’t been going well.  For weeks and weeks he had been dreaming about getting here, finally getting a break from work and going absolutely crazy. But here he was, standing alone, with his brother behind him having the time of his life. Sure, he was pissed, but that’s not fun by itself. That’s just sad.

So what was the matter? He felt his legs shudder slightly, so he stepped back against the concrete wall of the casino. He could see only a couple of people on the sidewalk. Everyone else was inside. His eyes flickered towards a giant sign which hung above the doorway of a large club opposite; he could just about make out all the tiny bulbs which made up the fluorescent words. One or two of them were broken.

Whose job is it to fix them?

He didn’t bother thinking about the answer. His smile had long since worn off. Even with several litres of beer clouding his brain, he could see that this wasn’t really a nice place. The roads were cracked, and the pavements were covered in stains and litter. He wasn’t supposed to care about that stuff, so long as he had a bottle in one hand and a girl in the other, but now he found that he cared very much about it.

Because it was all well and good for him to come here for the night, but someone was going to have to clean up all his shit. And in a partying city like this, that didn’t sound like an enjoyable task.

A scowl passed over his face as he thought about that girl he had been talking to. He remembered how stupid she had sounded as she talked. What had he expected to happen, a sudden whirlwind of kissing, undressing, and drunken sex? Although the idea had been appealing a little while ago, but now that he thought about it, it was pathetic. Just a scratch on the headboard. Meaningless.

Maybe it was just the drink, but Ricky felt none of that exhilarated rush which he had experienced when he got here. He turned his head, looking around for Kurt, not realising for a few moments that he was still inside. He peered back through the casino doorway; he saw nothing but those horrible lights.

Grimacing, he turned the other way, and started towards a second door, which led up to the hotel rooms. He wanted to lie down. He hadn’t expected to feel so depressed on this trip. He supposed he could always tell Kurt that he hooked up with someone else.

Possibly because of the amount of beer which was still in his blood stream, it took only a couple of minutes for Ricky to get lost among the twisting staircases. This was a pretty cheap place, and so didn’t have an elevator, but since Ricky couldn’t remember where his room was, it probably wouldn’t have helped very much anyway. He held onto the walls as he climbed higher and higher; it’s much easier to fall on even steady surfaces when you’re drunk.

Pretty soon, he stumbled onto the top floor landing (he figured as much, since there were no more stairs). He had noticed that the furnishings grew much fewer in number the higher he climbed, and now there was nothing but a thick metal door and a fire extinguisher. The door should probably have been locked, but it was slightly ajar, creaking as the gentle breeze knocked against it. He guessed that it led to the roof.

As his sense of judgment was slightly impaired, Ricky took a step closer to the gap in the door. He was more interested to see what the city looked like from up here than anything else, but as soon as he put his eye to the crack, he spotted someone’s silhouette, standing beneath the shelter of corrugated metal.

Ricky could tell quite easily that it was a man, since the sky above him was polluted by the Vegas lights. Black hair was draped over most of his face. He could just about see a hand, floating a couple of inches in front of his face, and the burning tip of the cigarette he was holding. As he watched, the man blew a fine stream of smoke out through his mouth. It sounded a little like a sigh. The corners of his lips appeared to be turned up, but Ricky, even in his state, could see that it must only be a trick of the shadows.

In order to see the man from a better angle, Ricky leaned forwards and put his hands against the door, only to find that it wasn’t as heavy as it looked; with a soft squeak, it swung forwards.

This would probably have gone unnoticed by the smoking man, but unfortunately, Ricky forgot to step away as the door opened, and so he fell right through the doorway, the door crashing against the wall with a deafening bang. He slammed straight into the floor, only just managing bring his arms over his head before he hit the concrete.

Frank jumped and cried out; the sound of the metal door clanging against the brick wall sounded like a gunshot. His heart thumping, he looked around, first to his right and then to his left, for the source of the sudden noise. His eyes, used to the dark by now, landed on a shadow which barely resembled a human, sprawled practically at his feet. He dropped his cigarette in shock, and squared up his shoulders, ready for an attack.

The shadow groaned (it was a man’s voice), but made little effort to pick itself up from the ground, short of gingerly lifting his head ever-so-slightly. From this, Frank assumed he was either very hurt or very drunk, and allowed himself to relax slightly. Considering there was a bar just downstairs, the latter seemed more likely. It didn’t really explain anything else, though.

It wasn’t difficult to work out that this man had opened the door (whether by accident or not, Frank wasn’t sure), and that he didn’t pose much of a threat, since he didn’t look able to stand up. Still, he could do nothing but stand there, nervously holding onto the last whispers of smoke in his lungs. What in hell’s name this person could be doing up here at this time, he could only guess. Probably just lost his way, though Frank wasn’t sure how you could mistake a rooftop for a bedroom.

Eventually, after several painful moments of indecision, Frank took an uncertain step forwards. He was pissed off that this guy had interrupted his thoughts, but it’s hard enough to talk to some people when they’re sober, let alone drunk enough to fall through doors. He wanted to check if he was okay, but he was still wary. It might be better just to get him out of here.

“Um… y’know, you probably shouldn’t be up here,” he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse. The man raised his head again, but Frank couldn’t make out his face, which was submerged in shadows.

“That was embarrassing…” he heard the man reply; definitely had a few, he thought to himself. Scowling, Frank stuck out a hand, offering to pull him to his feet, but either the man couldn’t see it or he chose to ignore it.

He cocked his head to one side, still spread-eagled on the floor. From what Frank could see of his scruffy hair, he could just have easily been a tramp. He brought his hand back to his side.

“You know where my room is?” Ricky peered upwards to the man standing over him. He saw something glinting slightly on his chest, as well as the outline of a black waistcoat. He was obviously staff.  Blood was pounding in his ears, and he was trying his best to appear as sober as possible. Still, the way he slurred his vowels was a bit of a giveaway.

“Sorry, I really don’t,” came the voice he had just heard. The man had a deep, melodic tone which was just a little scratchy, and Ricky found himself playing it over and over in his head for no reason that he could work out. In fact, he almost missed his next words: “You got your key?”

Ricky leaned back on one hand as he used the other to fish through his pockets. He came across a thin piece of plastic after a couple of seconds, and squinted at it.
“Yeah...” he said distractedly. Whatever number was written on it refused to stay still, and soon he found that his head was spinning. “What’s this say?” He held the card out to the man. He thought he ought to have realised that if he had checked the key before, he wouldn’t have ended up getting so embarrassingly lost.

“Room twenty seven,” Frank read quickly, thinking something along those same lines as he handed the key back. He wished the guy would just stand up already; he didn’t like talking down to him like this, when he couldn’t even see his face. “Uh, you need some help?” he offered, actually quite hoping that the man would refuse. He would rather be left alone again, and he didn’t fancy spending too much time with this man, who had so rudely burst in on him.

“Just a sec…” he saw the man rest the key-card between his teeth, and push himself up from the floor with his hands. He staggered backwards as he straightened up, probably receiving a head-rush. Frank blinked at him for a moment, waiting for him to steady himself. It occurred to him that this situation wouldn’t be nearly so awkward if the guy was sober.

It took Ricky a couple of moments to figure out where to place his feet; he was sure the ground hadn’t been tilting like this a few minutes ago. When he eventually righted himself, the thought that he must look like a total idiot entered his head, and he felt himself blush. Here he was, struggling to even stand properly, being watched by a complete stranger, who…

Now that Ricky’s eyes were level with Frank’s (or even a little higher up), he could see his face properly, illuminated by the moon and by the city. His face was delicately shaped, his jaw perfectly chiseled and his lips slender and crooked. The shadows threw the circles under his eyes into great relief, giving him the look of someone haunted.

Frank, however, could still not see Ricky’s face.

“You ‘kay?” he asked, noticing Ricky’s sudden silence. He wondered if he was about to throw up or something, and made a mental note to step aside as soon as he showed any signs of doubling over. The last thing he needed tonight was beer puke all over him. “Hey, are you all right?”

Ricky didn’t really notice that Frank was talking; he was still watching his lips, which were slightly chapped, with a fascination they didn’t really deserve. His whole face just looked so angry, and there was bitterness in his eyes. He just couldn’t put his finger on why this made him unable to look away.

From the way that Ricky was standing motionless, Frank guessed that he was staring at him. This made him uncomfortable, especially since the most he could make out of the man opposite him was the outline of his windswept hair. He could feel a craving for more nicotine coming along. He didn’t like to smoke around other people. This wasn’t much of a reason to try and get rid of the guy, but he was losing patience.

“Will you quit looking at me like that?” he exclaimed after a couple of seconds. He crossed his arms to his chest and leaned against the stone wall. “You know where to go, so go,” he continued, making a point to turn his head away from the man, who was undoubtedly still standing there, staring dumbly at him. This is exactly what I hate about Vegas, he thought to himself. It gets all the idiots.

He heard no sound of footsteps, but still refused to look around. He breathed out, slowly and deliberately, through his mouth, trying to show his annoyance as obviously as possible. He wanted to be left alone, couldn’t this freak understand that?

Ricky watched as Frank turned his head away, ignoring his presence. He furrowed his brow in confusion. He didn’t want to aggravate him any further, but now he was curious about what he was doing here, when it had to be at least three o’ clock. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was upset, or pissed off, or both. He took a tiny step towards him, feeling stupidly shy. The sober Ricky would never have interfered in someone else’s business, but that was a different person; drunken Ricky knew no bounds.

“What’re you doing here by yourself?”

To Ricky, the question sounded sensitive; to Frank, however, it was just plain rude.

Feeling like he had finally had enough of this guy, he quickly turned his head back around, ready to tell him where he could go – but that single step forwards had thrown his face into a pool of light, and Frank could see it clearly, down to every last detail.

All his anger and annoyance melted away completely; if he had been shocked before, then he couldn’t think of a word for how he felt now.

“Oh…” he stopped himself before he could add “my God”. He was standing barely a yard away from the man he had seen downstairs in the casino, the beautiful man with the pointed nose and eyes so black they almost terrified him. He wondered how he hadn’t realised it before, but it was probably the last person he would have ever expected to see standing there.

Ricky’s lips were slightly parted as he waited for Frank’s answer; it never came. For not much longer than a second, they found themselves locking gazes with one another, their eyes meeting for the first time. It could have been a reaction to the alcohol, but Ricky could have sworn he felt his stomach squirm as he saw the coldness in Frank’s was gone, replaced with something he couldn’t describe. It was strange how he suddenly looked so much more human.

So sad…

“What’s the matter?” it was all Ricky could think to say to break the silence. Frank’s eyes dropped down slightly, but they were still fixed on his face. He looked lost for words. Ricky narrowed his eyes slightly in order to read the name written on his badge. “Frank?” he added softly, as an afterthought. The single syllable disappeared quickly from his tongue, but it clearly got through to him more than anything else, because at once, his head shot up. His eyes were full of innocence. They looked like broken lights, still determined to shine.

“I-I saw you before,” he stammered through numb lips, his voice shaking. He had forgotten his façade. “Downstairs, talking to some women, with this other guy…” he blinked, and for a second, was brought back to reality – he’s straight, remember? – but his eyes, which looked anything but drunk or stupid, took him away again. He cleared his throat. “I just kept looking at you,” he finished, rushing, as though to get it over with.

Ricky couldn’t process all of this at once. He found that his eyes were forever drawn back to Frank’s lips, so real compared to the women downstairs’, covered in gloss and glitter. Although what Frank said didn’t really answer his question, he thought he understood what he meant.

“You don’t like this place?” he said quietly. Frank’s expression firmed up slightly as he shook his head. At the back of his mind, he could hear a tiny voice telling him that  he should stop, that wherever this would leading could only end in tears, but thankfully, the sight of the corner of Ricky’s mouth turning up into a smirk soon shut it up.

However, a whole crowd of new, much louder voices started up in its place.

“I thought it would be great,” Frank heard the beautiful stranger say, interrupting the chaos inside his head, “’cause I’d heard a lot about all the parties, and how easy the women were…” Ricky’s face split into a slight frown as he trailed off. Frank watched him, slowly feeling his heart sinking down into his stomach, the rush of emotions gradually fading. Once again, reality returned to him.

He was standing with a drunk, stupid stranger, who hardly knew what he was talking about. He suddenly felt so embarrassed that, for some reason, he had thought…

“But it’s just like varnish!”

Frank blinked, scanning over Ricky’s face, which held none of the dazedness he had seen when he was practically fighting to stay on his feet. He looked almost upset, in fact.

“It’s all fake,” Ricky added a moment or so later, seeming to find encouragement in Frank’s stare. They were caught in each other’s eyes, and Frank found himself nodding, agreeing with every word those perfect lips had uttered.

Ricky was tired. His thoughts were tangled up inside his head. Frank’s outline was blurred, but his eyes were like crystal, two jewels dropped into the sea. He didn’t feel like he could keep his balance for much longer. Without thinking, he put out a hand to steady himself; it landed on Frank’s shoulder just in time for him to regain his footing. Frank’s eyes widened as Ricky’s fingers fell on him, and his mouth, already hanging slightly open, formed into an “O” of surprise.

Frank hadn’t made up his mind until the very last moment. In fact, he wasn’t even aware that he had made the decision until he was standing on his toes and closing his eyes. Electricity shot through Ricky’s skin to his own, and the time it took for him to lean forwards seemed like an eternity.

But then, the very next second, the other man’s lips collided with his own, and without a second thought, he kissed them.

For Ricky, this had all happened much too quickly for him to follow. At first, he wasn’t sure what was happening – the kiss felt alien, almost unwanted – but the moment he realised that it was Frank’s contoured lips tracing his mouth, there was nothing he could do but kiss back. It didn’t matter that Frank had misjudged his actions, or that he was a man, someone he didn’t know at all. All he needed to know was that he was beautiful.

Frank was certain that, the moment he sensed Ricky begin to part his lips, he was drifting off into heaven. Throwing his inhibitions to the wind, he place both of his hands on either side of Ricky’s face and deepened the kiss further still, the taste of Ricky’s tongue enough to disorientate all of his senses.

It doesn’t matter what happens, because he probably won’t remember in the morning.

The two men kissed for longer then either of them knew. Atop the building, the breeze was gentle, and blew their hair over their closed eyes. The moon slid overhead, soon to be pulling the blinding sun in its wake – but for now, it ruled the sky, casting a pearly glow on the orange, street-lamp bubble which floated over the city.


***


“Rick? Hey, wake up, dude, it’s like twelve o’ clock!”

“Mhmm…”

“Ricky, just get up, man.”

“Unhh.”

“I’m serious!”

“Ow! Hey, cut it out,” Ricky moaned, swatting away his brother’s fingers as they tried to poke his eyes out.

“Well get off your lazy ass, then!” he heard Kurt yell, a little too close to his sore ears as he would have liked. He groaned again, keeping his eyes pressed tightly together, and held his arms over his head. Kurt sighed resignedly, obviously accepting the fact that his brother was too hungover to care what he was saying. Yawning, he slumped onto his own bed, which was on the other side of the room from where Ricky was lying, catatonic.

He vaguely remembered finding him leaning against the door, practically snoring already. He guessed it must have been around four in the morning, since he didn’t get back to the room for quite a while. He had been otherwise engaged with the girl he had met last night.

Rubbing his aching forehead, Kurt smiled, thinking about whether he would bother calling her once he got home. He thought she was nice (from what he could remember, anyway), but he wasn’t too keen on the idea of a long distance relationship. Still, she wasn’t half good under the covers.

Ricky felt no desire, whatsoever, to try and think about anything besides getting back to sleep. His head was spinning in that sickening way which he had often before associated with too much to drink, and the very idea of trying to remember anything which may have happened last night caused his stomach to churn horribly. All he knew was that someone had slapped him across the face, but anything past that point was a mystery to him.

After about twenty minutes, Ricky finally gave up his battle with sleep, and carefully opened his eyes. Thankfully, the curtains were drawn, so he raised his head from the mattress, watching out for anything which could aggravate his headache. It felt as though there were hundreds of ball bearings rattling around in his skull.

Through his sleep-clogged eyelashes, he saw Kurt lying on his bed, looking slightly dishevelled but not much the worse for wear. It took him a couple of moments to notice that he was lying upside down on his bed, sheets strewn all about him and his pillows just by his feet. For sure, he must have been pretty hammered. Clumsily, he pushed himself into a sitting position, doing his best not to fall onto the floor. Judging by the stinging which shot through his ribs as he stretched, he had already done so a couple of times during the night.

“There a shower in this room?” he grunted, scratching sluggishly at his greasy hair. Kurt gestured over to their right, exhausted even by the exertion of trying to wake up his brother. Ricky stomped over to the bathroom, holding onto the walls for support as he swung the door shut; the bang was enough to get both their heads throbbing like mad.

Kurt’s final thought, before he drifted off into a doze, was that whatever they both did last night, it couldn’t match the excitement of throwing up the morning after.


***


The brothers wasted no time in packing up their shit and jumping in the car. Though a great majority of the previous night had been lost in the clouds of drunkenness, they decided that they must have had a good time, or else they wouldn’t feel so awful now. It being Sunday morning, the city streets were fairly quiet, and so it wasn’t long until they were back on the endless desert roads.

Once again, Kurt was driving, since of the two of them, he seemed the least likely to fall asleep at the wheel. They couldn’t help but feel a little down – the trip had gone as quickly as it had come. Tomorrow, it would just be back to normal again.

“How’d it go with that girl?” Ricky asked scratchily, trailing his fingers through the clouds of sand which formed around the tyres. Kurt shrugged, both hands curled around the leather steering wheel.
“I think it went good. At least, she wasn’t fussy about taking her clothes off.”

Ricky snorted, only half amused. It was frustrating that his mind was still blank. He didn’t think he had ended up in anybody else’s room, but then what had he been doing for a whole hour between leaving Kurt and crawling into bed?

“You’re certain that chick didn’t change her mind?” Kurt suggested. Ricky lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully. The most he could picture of the girl he had been talking to was her blonde hair.
“I’m pretty sure a girl doesn’t slap you and then come rushing back,” he retorted, wiping his hand over his eyes. “I didn’t even kiss her, the prude.”

I kissed him…

Suddenly, Ricky sat up straight, his eyes snapping wide open. His last sentence seemed to have stirred something in his memory, but as he tried to remember it further, it just sank back into the shadows. However, his strange behaviour didn’t go unnoticed.

“What’s up? Something come back to you?” Kurt asked, taking his eyes away from the road to look at his brother, who was still frowning to himself.
“Sort of…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Just déjà vu or something.”

“Just as long as you didn’t suddenly remember that you hooked up with a guy, or something!” Kurt laughed, pushing his glasses up onto his nose with one finger.

Ricky didn’t smile this time. Instead, he stared blankly at the horizon, wondering why the hell Kurt’s words seemed to have such an impact on him.

Perhaps if they had been driving towards the sun, and Ricky had looked up into the dazzling light, it would have jogged his memory.


***


Frank had to crane his neck to see all the way to the ground. This was by no means one of the tallest buildings in the city, but it had to be at least six storeys high. More than enough to be able to see for several miles. His toes were only centimeters from the ledge which separated him from the drop.

Inhaling deeply from the cigarette in his hand, he looked from one end of the city to another, the way he scanned the room last night. He clamped the cardboard end of the cigarette between his teeth and took another drag. He wasn’t even sure these things worked for him anymore, but he was too used to smoking to give it up.

He could be in any of those cars.

Frank pulled the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it over the side of the building. It tumbled through thin air for several moments, before it came to rest on the ground, just outside the doorway to the casino, directly below him. He remembered going through those doors countless times, mostly just to come up here and be alone with his thoughts. It was comforting to know that there was a place he could come to be on top of the city, rather than crushed under the heel of its boot.

Last night hadn’t meant a thing. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, by any stretch of the imagination, and by now, Frank knew not to trust anyone for a second kiss. No one stays for long in this place, he told himself. Everyone’s a drifter, a drinker or a gambler – and then there was him. A nobody, really. He wasn’t looking for his fame or his fortune, or even a place to call home. He guessed he was just waiting for something to find him.

If he turned his head just a little to the left, he would see the metal doorway, and the brick wall beside it. The memories of standing there, arms and lips entwined with a man whose name he had never learned, would come rushing back, maybe accompanied by a small smile.

But he didn’t look. He didn’t remember. It had just been a dream, a stupid fantasy which would never come true. He had to forget it, or he would just go on fooling himself. He didn’t need anyone. He couldn’t need anyone.

He might be anywhere in the world by now.

Frank stared down to the sidewalk below, trying to pretend he didn’t know that his bones would shatter like glass bulbs if he fell.

Trying not to admit to himself that he wished he could see the man’s smile again.