by Rosa Foxxe
Tyra nodded, although she wasn't really sure what the man was talking about.
“What can I do for a lady as lovely as yourself,” the man said. “My name is Gizmo, or at least it's a nickname that I still carry around with me from childhood.”
“Why do people call you Gizmo?” Tyra asked.
The man was old, frumpy, and overweight. She wasn't sure why he wouldn't have a nickname indicative of that.
“Because I'm clever,” Gizmo said. “I'm good at making things, at breaking things, at planning things, and disrupting things. So back in the day people started calling me Gizmo, saying that I had, 'I gizmo for everything.'”
“Oh,” Tyra said. She wasn't sure why the man was telling her all this but she didn't mind. It was actually kind of interesting to find a man named Gizmo alone in building full of offices writing an email to Italy.
“What happened to everyone else,” Tyra asked. “That works here, anyway.”
“Oh there's just me,” Gizmo said. “My bosses, they like me to have privacy because sometimes, well, you know how it is. People are rude sometimes and I'm an old man! There is only so long I can hold my temper.”
Tyra raised her eyebrows.
“The people that live around here are very nice, though,” Gizmo said with a wave of his hand. “No one really has an attitude beyond being passive aggressive. Where I came from before I had to punch some punk just to get to work every day!”
“Where was that?” Tyra asked.
“Little Italy,” Gizmo said. “The place has kind of gone to hell. The youth don't respect nobody, not even the people who look out for them. Recently we pulled everything out of there and moved it to a much better, nicer place, where people are glad we're around because we bring money and business around.”
Tyra was beginning to wonder just what kind of man she was dealing with.
“What does your business handle?” Tyra asked.
“Casinos, now,” Gizmo said. “But really everything.”
He glanced down at his desk.
“Hey! Holy shit!” Gizmo shouted, his eyes flashing. “I was just about to give you a call. Lady, you just won a trip to Vegas, to one of my bosses’ casinos! How does that sound! It'll be all paid for, too. You won't even have to buy a single drink when you're there. This place, oh boy, you've never seen anything like this place. The casino is like a fucking fortress, with all kinds of ballasts on the outside. Then you go in and it's like some kind of time mish mash of Persian palace and Greek garden to the Gods. It's kind of hard to explain, but that's Vegas for you.”
Tyra was stunned. “So I won?” she said.
“Oh yeah!” Gizmo said. “You for sure won. The boss took one look at you and said you had to be it! No ifs, ands or buts! That's why I was about to call you and try to convince you that you really should take up the offer because it's a once in a lifetime deal.”
Suddenly Tyra wasn't so sure what was going on anymore. Why did his boss get to pick who’d win? Wasn't it some kind of drawing?
“Am I missing something?” Tyra asked hesitantly. “I was under the impression the contest was some kind of blind drawing.”
Gizmo took off his glasses and chewed on one of the ear pieces.
“Here's the thing, my boss is a young guy, really good looking, and a fucking billionaire,” Gizmo said. “Pardon my language but I want you to know that I'm serious about it. Well, my boss, he's a nice guy, but he has a hard time meeting women. I guess mostly he is really, really, particular; he doesn't want to shack up with any old broad, you know what I mean? He's one of those classy, romantic types who has to really feel it for a girl before he can feel it for a girl if you catch my drift.”
Gizmo raised and lowered his eyebrows. When he didn't get a response from Tyra, he kept going.
“Not that you have to sleep with the guy or anything, but you'll want to, believe you me,” Gizmo said. “This guy, he's top of the line. They don't make 'em like this anymore. He's a great business man, a hell of a fighter, and one of the most street savvy guys I've ever met. And he also writes poetry, or so I've been told. He keeps a lot of that stuff separate from the family business and I figure he'd rather not have my dumbass reading and commenting on it, so I just don't check it out. But the women love it!”
Gizmo stopped and looked embarrassed, like he'd caught himself talking too much.
“Look, lady,” Gizmo said. “You're going to love this trip. And I'm sorry if I've run my old, fat mouth too much and maybe scared you away. Because don't think there are any expectations. All you have to do is get on the plane and go do as you please. It's simple! Fool proof! There is no way on this planet that you aren't going to have the time of your life!
Oh! And there are special things planned that I can't even tell you about! Stuff that will absolutely knock your socks off. You're a cultured girl, right? I thought so. Well some of the stuff you're going to experience will have all of Des Moines’ housewives jealous of you. Seriously. Because there are some things that you just can't get around here, as I'm sure you're aware, and you're about to get all of those things in spades.”
Tyra sat, shocked for a few seconds.
“Are you going to give me some kind of letter or something?” she asked.
“No, no,” Gizmo said. “I'm going to send you an email that you can forward to your boss and then it'll be all wrapped up. Just you wait and see. Your boss is going to read the email I'm about to write and want you to go so much that he’ll insist. He'll insist you go and he'll tell you to take a couple of days off otherwise while you're at it.”
“How do you know this?” Tyra asked.
“Because my company is going to talk to your company at the very same time your boss reads the email you'll forward him. And then bada-bing bada-boom, you’re in Vegas.”
Tyra smiled as she stood to leave. She shook Gizmo's hand and wished him well.
“I'll see you around, I'm sure,” he said with a bow as she left.
Chapter2
Tyra had trouble concentrating at work the next day. She had no idea what kind of contest she'd gotten herself into, but she knew that she had no intention of not going to Vegas to meet whoever the playboy was that had staged the competition in the first place. Now the photos made sense. The playboy had wanted to get a good look at all of the “contestants” before he made his pick. Well, Tyra wasn't new to men wanting her, and wanting her badly enough to fly her across the country. Hell, she'd been flown around the world before, so why should she blanch in this instance.
She knew that she would be going out on a limb this time because she had no idea who the mysterious playboy was, or how he was so powerful and rich, but that didn't really matter. As long as she wasn't expected to do anything she didn't want to do, she would be just fine going to Vegas to spend time away from Des Moines, Iowa.
“Tyra,” it was her boss. “Corporate just OK'd time off that you haven't even asked for yet. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Do you even know?”
Tyra's boss, Jim, was a good-enough guy for being as big of a square as he was. Jim was your typical Midwest middle-management kind of guy—balding, overweight, wife he couldn't stand and kids he didn't like. Despite all of that, he was still a fairly nice guy who was easy enough to work for. Tyra didn't plan to be with the company long enough to find out how bitter the years would make Jim, after he realized that things weren't going to change and he was never going to get promoted. Jim would never figure it out either, that his unhappiness with the rest of his life bled over into his work.
“I was supposed to get an email from a contest I entered,” Tyra said. “To be honest I'm not sure what's going on, except that I was told I've won a trip to Vegas and that my work would be all right with it. I was supposed to get some kind of email that I could forward to you that would explain everything, but obviously that didn't happen, and I didn't want to just bring it up out of nowhere because it's a pretty fantastic story and I didn't think you'd believe me.”
/> Jim shifted from one foot to the other as he looked down at the piece of paper in his hands. He was standing at the entrance to Tyra's cubicle, the iridescent lights reflecting off of his bald spot.
“Yeah, well, this email from corporate says you are cut from work as of right now and are free to leave at your leisure,” Jim said. “It also says that you should be ready to get a phone call very soon that will explain everything? Again, I'm not privy to as much information as you are, so I'm not really sure what's going on here, but it seems to be legit. I mean, corporate never lets people leave work early.”
That much was true, corporate had a thing for never granting unscheduled time off or even scheduled vacations, sometimes. They always hid behind policies that didn't allow for managers to use their own judgment and rewarded those who had worked hard while making the slackers go without. It was one of the reasons that the company had such a high turnover rate. People got sick of missing peoples' birthdays and graduations because the corporate office hundreds of miles away didn't think that anyone that worked for them deserved a day off.
“So what should I do?” Tyra asked. “Should I close up shop for the day and head out or wait around for someone to ping my email box? I'm not sure what to do. Until this second, I wasn't completely sure that the contest wasn't some kind of scam.”
“What kind of contest was it?”
“To be completely honest, I entered it when I was blackout drunk at the casino so I really have no idea what kind of contest. I mean, the finer details, anyway. What I do know is that I'm going to Vegas!”
Jim laughed at her enthusiasm.
“Well, pack up your stuff and close up shop!”
*
At her apartment, Tyra was trying to pack without knowing what she was going to be doing in Vegas. She figured it was safe to assume she would need swimwear, dresses, a nightgown and all the other usual stuff. After thinking about it for a while, she figured it would be best to pack as much as she could since everything was getting paid for anyway, to include the flight over and luggage.
It took her longer than she thought it would. Packing was one of those things that Tyra just couldn't do well. It was an art form that always alluded her. Sometimes she would get on YouTube and try to figure out exactly how everyone else seemed to neatly fold and fit everything into their suitcases. Tyra always ended up just throwing everything in and sitting on the suitcase to get it to close. This time, though, she was really afraid that she wouldn't have enough room for all the stuff she wanted to bring, even with her extra suitcases.
In the middle of packing, her phone rang.
“Hello,” Tyra said.
“Hey, this is Gizmo. I'm going to be picking you up soon to take you to the airport and all of that. I was calling to make sure that you're ready to go. For some reason, I can't get a hold of you through email. I think it's the God-damn feds snooping around our business again because we're Italians that don't plan on cutting their grass anytime soon, or shining their shoes or anything like that.”
Tyra stood silent, unsure of what to say. So Gizmo continued.
“So, anyway, I was just calling to make sure that you would be ready to go because if you want we can wait until tomorrow. Not that it will be any better going tomorrow over today. I mean you're going to fly first class either way. I just know how women are sometimes and maybe you've got an appointment to tan or get waxed or something. You never know. So I figured it would be best to check with you first and see how things were going to develop.”
“Let me call you back on that,” Tyra said. “I haven't thought that far ahead myself.”
Gizmo said goodbye and they both hung up. Tyra couldn't help but wonder what kind of people she was dealing with that were so used to women and their needs. Most places wouldn't even think about whether or not she needed to wax her legs or get a tan before she went on vacation. Most places would have had the attitude of, “Well aren't you a lucky duck; now get on the plane!” But instead of doing that, Gizmo was being considerate enough to touch bases with her before he decided anything.
Tyra wasn't sure if she should get herself waxed or not. She had just gotten one a few days ago but maybe it would pay off to be completely smooth. Also, it couldn't hurt for her to have at least some kind of base for a tan when she touched down in Vegas because as of right now there was no return date. She guessed that she got to come back whenever she felt like it. Or maybe she would just find out later.
“Hello, Gizmo,” Tyra said. “I'm going to get a tan and a wax. Is tomorrow still all right? OK, see you then!”
Tyra finished packing and headed to the local spa. It seemed like the right thing to do, to make sure that she looked as good as she could for whoever was paying all the money to have her flown across the country.
Just because she didn't plan on doing anything with the guy, didn't mean she shouldn't look good. And how could she plan on doing something with him anyway, since she didn't have the faintest clue what he looked like? There really wasn't a way to fantasize about someone who you knew nothing about. But somehow, Tyra's mind worked overtime until the mystery man had a body and a face. She thought about the person she'd made up as she lay in the tanning booth after getting her body waxed. It took her awhile to realize that she wasn't imagining an Italian person.
Tyra wondered if most Italian guys had a thing for mixed race girls, or if this one was special. She wondered how he liked to have sex, and what he liked to eat. Everything she could wonder about, she did. She even wondered if the mystery man was wondering about her. If he was, he sure did have the advantage, considering that he knew what she looked like. And who knew whatever else he knew about her. He for sure knew her name, and that meant that he could run all kind of searches through the internet for her history.
She didn't have a criminal record to speak of, but she didn't think that her social networking pages were private. It made her think that the mystery man had used technology to get to know her very well. Then the thought occurred to her that Gizmo might have a camera in his office and whoever was waiting for her in Vegas had watched her walk in his office and talk to him. She had to tell herself that was just her wild imagination acting up again. The tanning booth chimed before she was ready, signaling that her session was over.
The whole way home, Tyra couldn't help but feel good in her own skin, the best she'd felt in a really long time. She wasn't planning on sleeping with the mystery man by any means, but at the same time she sure wasn't ruling it out. When she got home and crawled into bed, she fell asleep and slept soundly, better than she had in years.
*
The next morning Gizmo was at her apartment bright and early to take her to the airport. Now, all of a sudden, Tyra felt like she was getting cold feet. What was she thinking, flying all the way across the country to hang out with a rich man that she didn't even know, much less know what he looked like? It was crazy, one of those things that she heard about on television. And what happened if the guy ended up being crazy? She didn't know anyone in Vegas. Her closest relatives were in Arizona and she hadn't spoken to them in years. As if sensing her anxiety, Gizmo spoke up.
“You've got nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. I know all of this seems a little crazy but it isn't, really. Imagine if you were some rich big shot and all you wanted to find was the girl of your dreams. And you looked and you looked, but you couldn't find her. But every day a bunch of beautiful women, of which there’s no shortage of in Vegas, throw themselves at you in an effort to get some of your money. Eventually you realize, 'Hey, this shit ain't working out!' and you try to figure it out for yourself.
Now, the guy you're going to meet, he's a little old school. So instead of doing some kind of internet thing he does this live kind of raffle where everyone enters. Did you remember all the guys entering? You do? Good catch. That was because for it to be a 'real' thing it had to abide by some federal laws. And that meant the contest couldn't be, 'Be hot and I'll pick you.'”
Tyra wasn't sure if Gizmo was trying to help but he wasn't doing a great job. He didn't seem like the smartest guy, but something about him made Tyra think that he'd gone through his entire life hiding his real intelligence from people.
“Maybe I'm doing a bad job at explaining this,” Gizmo said, sensing her standoffishness.
“Imagine you've got a heart of gold. A real heart of gold. Not just the kind that poses for pictures and hands out money to little kids when the cameras are on you. So anyway, you've got this heart of gold and you are looking for someone else with a heart of gold, but they have to be attractive. I know, I know, it's a terrible day and age we live in where people aren't judged entirely by their insides, but that's how it is. And that's how it's always been. You know that personality can only make up for so much in the looks department.”
Gizmo swerved around a car that was slowing down in front of them.
“God damn drivers,” Gizmo said. “This fucking town is full of idiots. And I sincerely mean that. I haven't seen such bad driving since I lived in Queens! And you Midwesterners all think you are the bees’ knees! Well let me tell you something! You people don't know how to drive and as beautiful as you think this state is, I've seen more beauty in a muddy puddle!”
