Just Deserts in Las Vegas

by A. R. Winters

  Horrible Nanna arched her eyebrows. “I know exactly what you were going to say, Simone. And you wouldn’t want to own something like this anyway. There are no parties or restaurants, no shops or boutiques out here. You’d be bored of it in a day.”

  Simone turned to Antonio. “Do you think I would?”

  “If you were with me, you would never be bored.”

  Horrible Nanna let out a loud, derisive snort. “You’d be bored too.”

  “With a horse and a rifle, I would spend my days in nature, and my nights tangoing with mi amor.”

  Simone giggled and nuzzled against Antonio. Horrible Nanna just shook her head in dismissal. Simone didn’t push the matter any further. Nanna had dispatched her idea of buying out the ghost town before she could even properly broach the topic.

  While Sally and Pepper clattered around the saloon behind us, the rest of us lapsed into a warm silence while the scent of grilling meat slowly made its way indoors from Abner’s grill.

  Pepper was the only one standing while we waited to begin eating. Horrible Nanna had said grace and just as we were all about to dive in, Pepper had pleaded for us to stop.

  “Right, everyone, I want you all to hold up your knives and forks over your plates like you’re about to start eating.”

  “I am about to start eating,” my Nanna said beside me, a mischievous smile on her face. She wasn’t going to hang around waiting for Pepper to give us the all-clear.

  The plate in front of me tantalized with the smell of fresh-grilled steak, baked potatoes, steamed corn, and some homemade potato salad. Steam visibly wafted up and I vowed to start eating the very second Nanna did, whether we had Pepper’s permission or not.

  “I’m starving,” Ian said, staring down forlornly at his plate.

  “And if you could look my way, and you’ve all got to say, ‘Now this is s’cool.’ On my count, three, two, one…”

  “Now this is s’cool,” I intoned, feeling rather dumb as I did so, for Pepper’s video.

  “Thanks, and if we could do it just one more—”

  “Nope,” Nanna said beside me, immediately putting her knife and fork to work.

  “Nuh-uh,” Sally said with a grin at her friend.

  Pepper sat down with a look of mild perturbation on her face, clearly annoyed she’d have to make do with the single take she’d managed to film. Once she started eating though, she lightened up again. She didn’t seem to hold her moods long. If we hadn’t been eavesdropping on the dressing down she received from her grandmother that afternoon, it would have been impossible to tell she spent a good portion of it being yelled at.

  The food was delicious. Whether it was because of all the fresh air I’d had that day or I was just starving, it was one of the best tasting meals I could remember eating in a long time. Despite the simple ingredients, I enjoyed it more than some of the fancy Michelin-starred meals I’d eaten with Jack.

  “This is fantastic, Nanna.”

  Pepper’s grandmother was sitting at the head of the table, and she smiled back at me. “Simple living and simple food. You can’t beat it. I just hope I’ll be able to persuade the general public.”

  “I’m sure with Pepper’s influence you’ll be able to reach a lot of customers. People are going to love it out here. It’s amazing just getting away from everything.”

  “I do miss my phone though,” Rachel said. “What if someone needs to contact us in an emergency?”

  “I have a landline. In the future, you can give that number out as an emergency contact number.” Nanna gave Rachel a thoughtful look. “Though you work in a bank, dear. They don’t have emergencies. It’s only money, after all.”

  Rachel opened her mouth as if to respond, but then closed it again. She knew they were going to disagree on that one.

  “I like it out here,” Brad said. “Lets us get back to our roots, you know? The way our ancient ancestors used to live.”

  “It’s only a hundred and forty years old,” Nanna said with a little laugh that seemed to be at least a bit contemptuous. “Hardly our ancient ancestors. More like my grandparents.”

  Brad seemed to mutter something about that being ancient.

  “What was that?” our hostess asked sharply.

  “Just saying I like it out here anyway.”

  Most of the rest of the meal passed in quiet appreciation of the food, and a desire to avoid Horrible Nanna’s contempt or condemnation.

  “Who wants ice cream?” Horrible Nanna asked when we were done.

  I looked at her suspiciously. Was this a trick like Abner with the whiskey?

  “Really, Nanna?” Pepper asked.

  “Of course. They didn’t call me the Ice Cream Queen for nothing.”

  “They called you that?” Ian asked.

  “Oh, yes. I’ll tell you all about it. Pepper, be a dear and run over to my cabin. You’ll find the ice cream in the freezer.”

  “I’ll come with you. It’s dark,” Dylan said.

  When the pair of them were gone, Horrible Nanna carried on with her tale. Ian was looking at her bright-eyed, as was everyone else. Except Rachel. She was sitting with her arms folded in front of her chest, her gaze firmly fixed on the table in front of her rather than on Pepper’s grandmother.

  “I used to own a chain of six ice cream stores, all around Las Vegas. I sold the best ice cream in the entire city. At least that’s what the customers said. And they were right. I didn’t skimp on the ingredients—that was the secret. Every other shop cut corners. But not me. Isn’t that right, Rachel?”

  “Mmhmm,” she said, not looking up.

  There was definitely some history there. Some history that Rachel wanted to keep buried.

  “Oh, come on. Cheer up, Rachel. It was years ago.”

  “What was years ago?” Ian asked. From the sudden wince and the sharp look he received, I deduced that Sally had hit him under the table to encourage him to cease that line of inquiry. But it was already too late.

  “It’s all water under the bridge now,” Horrible Nanna said. “Isn’t it, Rachel?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Talk abou—ow.”

  “Rachel worked in one of my shops when she was in high school.” Horrible Nanna looked around at us to see if we wanted her to continue. Rachel clearly didn’t want her to. Nor did Sally. But she didn’t care. “Until I fired her for stealing.” Horrible Nanna immediately began to giggle, the youthfulness of her laughter jarring.

  Rachel stood up abruptly. “I didn’t steal anything!” She rushed out of the saloon, out into the dark. Hunter pushed his chair out, muttering under his breath as he quickly followed.

  Horrible Nanna continued to giggle, even after they’d gone.

  “Want to hear something funny?”

  I neither nodded nor agreed, not trusting Horrible Nanna’s sense of humor in the slightest. She was still grinning after Rachel.

  “Sure,” Ian said.

  “It wasn’t Rachel who stole the money. It was all a big misunderstanding. That’s why I said it was all water under the bridge now. Shame she ran out in a tantrum instead of staying to listen.”

  “Oh, that is funny,” Ian said. No one else seemed to think so though.

  “She always said it wasn’t her,” Sally said quietly.

  “It’s all in the past now anyway. Now, where’s that granddaughter of mine with the ice cream?”

  We all listened for the sound of the dessert. Instead, we heard subdued conversation outside. The words were impossible to make out, but after a little back and forth the ice cream arrived accompanied by all four of the guests who had recently left the saloon.

  Rachel and Hunter sat back down in their places but didn’t look in Horrible Nanna’s direction. The grandmother paid no mind to the cold shoulder she was being shown and immediately began serving the ice cream which did, indeed, turn out to be truly delicious.

  When we were finished, Pepper and Sally, along with Simone and Rachel, were or
dered to help clean up. The order was given with such sternness that no one dared complain, and even those of us not commanded to help didn’t dare interfere by offering our assistance.

  Nanna moved back to her place by the fire, where Bridget was still lying, legs outstretched in pure bliss.

  After stuffing myself so full, I decided I wasn’t quite ready for more sitting just yet. I let myself out of the saloon and wandered onto the empty street. I didn’t intend to go for a lengthy walk—while I’m not afraid of the dark, I am wary of wandering around ghost towns and deserts at night—but a little fresh air and some light exercise sounded pleasant.

  I didn’t get very far before I stopped in my tracks. I’d glanced up, just for a moment, and then nearly had my breath snatched away.

  The sky was blanketed with stars. Not just one or two, or a few dozen, but thousands upon thousands upon thousands of them. Among the city lights of Vegas, I never got to see them like this.

  “Wow,” I said under my breath, unable to keep my amazement in.

  “There’s like, loads of them, aren’t there?”

  I jerked my head back down and glared at Brad, who’d snuck up behind me. So much for my solitary marveling at the cosmos.

  “Yes. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking—I was walking. But I guess I’m pretty quiet. Catlike, you could call me.”

  “I guess it’s useful for thieves.”

  Brad’s face fell. “I’m not a thief. I just—”

  “But you literally are. You stole phones and hard drives, wallets and bags, purses and—”

  “All right, all right. You don’t need to go on about it. Anyway, that was the old Brad. I don’t do that anymore.”

  I gave him a skeptical look.

  “What’s this? A new and improved Brad? An altar boy, or Boy Scout Brad?”

  “Yep. That’s me.” He gave me a three-fingered salute. “Honest Brad, at your service.”

  “Or maybe you just added lying to your repertoire.”

  “Stop being mean. I’m telling you I’ve changed. And anyway, I thought you had a soft spot for me. You know, because of our history.”

  “Our history?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you remember? You and me? You came to my party, we were locked in the closet together—Seven Minutes in Heaven—it was fun, wasn’t it?”

  “I didn’t ‘come to your party.’ I went to your apartment to interview you. And we didn’t play that silly game. I just wanted to talk to you in private to keep from embarrassing you. It was your friends who got the wrong idea.”

  “Is that how it happened?” Brad scrunched up his face and slowly shook his head at me as if he didn’t quite remember. “Huh. Well if you want to play again, you know where to find me…”

  “No thanks. What are you doing out here, anyway?”

  “I’m going to get my bongos from my cabin. Dylan and I are going to have a jam session.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.”

  Brad gave me another three-fingered salute before wandering off in the direction of the cabins.

  I looked up at the sky again, but the sense of awe and wonder that I had been appreciating didn’t come back. Instead, I just felt slightly annoyed at Brad. Still, I’d gotten some fresh air. I could face sitting down again.

  When I returned to the saloon, Dylan was sitting with his back to the fire, guitar on his lap, serenading the room with a song that I didn’t recognize.

  I went inside to join the party and accepted a beer from Hunter. The beers had arrived with the dinner supplies from Horrible Nanna’s refrigerator in her cabin. It sure beat the burn of the straight whiskey Abner had given me. Nanna was still sitting by Bridget, eyes closed now, hands wrapped around her glass. She was sure making the most of this impromptu getaway.

  “Bongos are here!” came a shout from the door.

  Bongos were indeed there. Brad had the pair of drums tucked under his arm and a beaming grin on his face. Dylan grabbed an empty chair next to him and spun it around for Brad so its back was toward the fire and the pair of them could perform in comfort beside each other.

  “I love the bongos,” Sally said in excitement, nudging Ian.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I kept a straight face but I wanted to laugh. I was pretty sure Ian had no positive feelings toward bongo drums whatsoever. It was nice to see him and Sally happy together though, especially after all the rough patches they’d been having. They weren’t even going to counseling anymore.

  I sat back down beside Nanna who immediately opened her eyes and glanced at my hand.

  “You shouldn’t drink beer after whiskey. It’ll make you sick.”

  “I barely had any whiskey, Nanna, and I’ve only had a swig of beer. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you say so, dear. You should follow my lead, though. Stick with one drink. It’s much better for you.”

  I was pretty sure Nanna had drunk four glasses of whiskey by then and was going to be feeling it a lot more than me. But I wasn’t about to argue with her.

  “Everyone? Can I have your attention?” Horrible Nanna said from in front of the bar.

  Dylan stopped playing the guitar, and Brad placed his hands gently on top of his bongos.

  “Abner will lock up at ten o’clock sharp. And I would appreciate it if you did not try and persuade him to stay open longer. He has a home to get to. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, Nanna,” everyone said in unison, my own Nanna included.

  “I’ve left an electric lantern for each of you up here on the bar for the walk to your cabins. You’ll find another one inside your cabin. Please turn them off when you go to sleep. Each of the cabins has a fireplace, and Abner is going around lighting each of them now. You should find that to be sufficient light and heat, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t waste the batteries in my lanterns. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Nanna.”

  “And there’ll be coyotes sniffing around later. If you have any food with you, don’t leave it outside the cabins—not that I can see any reason why you would. And make sure that dog stays inside.”

  This piece of advice had been directed at me.“Yes, Nanna,” I said sweetly.

  “And if any of you need more blankets, then…”

  It was another ten minutes before Horrible Nanna finished her instructions, warnings, advice, and last-minute criticisms. Finally, she was gone, and the tension in the air immediately began to dissipate.

  “Let’s get this party started!” Dylan strummed his guitar.

  “Right on!” Brad began to thump a beat on his bongos.

  “Hold on, hold on! Can you say that again? I wasn’t ready. This is going to be s’cool. Now, three, two…”

  At 9:55, Abner reappeared, jangling a keyring in hand. It seemed funny to me, sending everyone off to bed at ten o’clock—I often didn’t even start work until after that time. Ten o’clock in Vegas barely even qualified as real night time, let alone bedtime.

  By the door, I passed Pepper, who popped a pill into her mouth and took a swig of water.

  “Headache?”

  After two solid hours of bongos and guitars, I was surprised I didn’t have a headache myself. It wasn’t that the two musicians were bad . It was… no, scratch that. They were terrible. They almost made up for their lack of talent in enthusiasm, though.

  “No. It’s for my insomnia. I just have so much energy, so much passion, so much love for life, you know? I can never sleep without them.”

  “Maybe you should get a job working nights in a casino like me. You could use your energy keeping the customers happy.”

  Pepper wrinkled her nose at the thought of it.

  “No way. I don’t think I could go back to working for other people. The thing about being an entrepreneur is that once you’ve had that taste of freedom, you just can’t imagine going back to working for the man.”

  Dylan sidled up beside her, guitar now strapped to his back. “That’s rig
ht. We’re free spirits.”

  “It was just an idea. Sleep well, guys. Come on, Nanna.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder just how much money the two free spirits really made. From what I could tell Dylan wasn’t making much at the moment, but maybe Pepper was doing better as an influencer. I knew some of them could make six or even seven figures a year. I wasn’t sure if I believed Pepper was up to the standard though. No matter how s’cool she declared herself to be.

  Nanna and I walked back to our cabin, Bridget happily trotting along by our sides. She’d spent the evening dozing by the fire and was pleased to have another walk, even if it was going to be a short one.

  The night air was cool, and I was beginning to worry we’d be cold in the night until we got back inside our cabin. As promised, the fire had been lit and the inside was toasty warm and cozy, with dancing shadows bouncing off the walls.

  Bridget immediately made her way over to the fire, plopping herself down right in front of it and yawning with a satisfied squeal of delight.

  “Enjoying your vacation, Bridget?”

  She slumped her head down on top of her paws and let out a snore of contentment.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Me too,” Nanna said. “And that Brad is lovely. He taught me to play the bongos.”

  “I know, Nanna. I heard. We all did.”

  “Remind me to tell Wes to buy me a set for my birthday.”

  I made a non-committal sound. I wasn’t sure if I wanted a bongo-bashing Nanna.

  “Good night, Nanna. Good night, Bridget.”

  I quickly fell into a deep sleep that should have lasted the whole night through. But it didn’t.

  I wasn’t awoken by the sun peeking in through the windows. Nor was I awakened by a rooster crowing—not that I’d seen signs of any poultry—and nor was I awoken by the sizzling of breakfast or a gentle knock at the door.

  In fact, it was still the middle of the night when Bridget decided to start barking and howling like her life depended on it.

  I blinked my eyes open and tried to figure out what was going on. The fire had mostly died down, and the room had become shrouded in shadows, reducing every object to a vague outline. Bridget was by the door of the cabin, standing on her hind legs like she was trying to open it herself.