Worth Saving

by W. S. Greer

  “Well, no matter what happens, don’t ever let that light go out.”

  I smile at Marlene and she smiles back just as I feel a tap on the shoulder. I swing around to find a man with a thick beard wearing a black suit with thin white pinstripes. He’s got mafia written all over him, and he looks at me like he owns me.

  “You ready?” the man asks, holding out his burly hand for me to take. He smiles, but it doesn’t make me feel at ease. It does the opposite.

  “Absolutely,” I lie with a fake smile that I‘ve perfected over the years.

  I take the man’s hand and he helps me off the barstool. Just as we start to walk towards the night that he has paid to have with me, I turn back to Marlene.

  “Holding on to that light is a lot easier said than done.” I smile at her, but again, it’s forced. “I’ll see you later,” I say, just as the man whose name I don’t know leads me out into the darkness.

  Layla

  I smell his cologne all over me and it makes me want to gag. Even though I took a shower before I left, I can still smell him on me. Even though we make sure everyone wears a condom, I still feel disgusting and ashamed.

  I walk out of the Marriot Hotel with my bag draped over my shoulder and a feeling of disgust resting in my stomach. My skin feels like it’s crawling with tiny spiders whose venom makes me feel sadder with every nibble of my flesh. Maybe that’s a little extreme, but that’s how gross I feel.

  As I walk past the sliding glass doors, I try to forget everything I did last night to make sure the man’s two thousand dollars was well spent. After the incident I had with Damien, I know better than to back out when someone pays for me, but even though I know I’m only doing it for my own safety, it doesn’t make it any easier, and it doesn’t make me feel any better about it.

  I remember the first time I had to spend the night with someone. I’d just turned eighteen, and Damien told me it was time to “break me in,” because I’d already been working at Red Pony for three months, and I hadn’t made him any money. The guy that night was eighteen too, and his friends bought me for him. He was a scrawny blonde with thin lips and a five o’clock shadow, but I could tell he and his friends came from wealthy families. He was just as terrified as I was in that hotel room. I remember how he was so nervous that he came in his underwear the second I went to reach for them. He was totally embarrassed, thinking he’d displeased me in some way by not being able to perform, but the truth was that I was beyond relieved. He ended up letting me sleep in the bed that night, while he slept on the floor. All he wanted was for his friends to think he’d had sex with me so they’d leave him alone about being a virgin. That was the first time I ever met a guy that nice. It was also the last.

  I step out into the Nevada morning sun, still smothered in that smell, and I make my way over to the curb. The customer brought me over to the Marriot in his rented Escalade, but I didn’t want to have to get a ride back with him, so now I’m in need of a taxi. When I reach the curb, I look down the road to see if there’s one coming. There isn’t. There’s nothing but the never-ending onslaught of cars and shuttle buses. It’s just my luck that I’m going to have to stand here like an idiot for twenty minutes, drenched in the scent of a chubby minute-man, while I wait for a taxi to drive by. Or, I could call Marlene.

  I pull my cell phone from my bag and quickly find Marlene’s number, but it’s eight in the morning and she doesn’t answer. I know she worked the late shift and probably only got home a couple of hours ago. Shit. I decide to leave her a message.

  “Hey, it’s Layla. Listen, I’m so sorry to have to call you like this, but you know how I hate calling for cabs and dealing with all those nosy ass, horny drivers. I was kind of hoping you could come get me from the Marriot. I’m just now leaving and I didn’t want to have to wake up the customer to get a ride back to Red Pony to get my car. Ugh. I know you’re asleep. Shit. Well, never mind, sweetie, get your rest. I’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

  I end the call just as I see a spot of yellow down the road coming in my direction. My heart jumps for joy when I see the light on the top. It’s a cab! I step up to the curb and put my hand in the air, and I’m thrilled when the cab stops in front of me. I hate taxi cab drivers, but I’m tired and willing to deal with it for the ten minutes it’ll take to get back to Red Pony.

  I flash an obviously fake smile to the driver and reach for the handle in the back. When the metal touches my skin, I hear a car slam on its breaks. I look up and see a dark gray Camaro stopped in the middle of the street right next to the cab I’m reaching for. Its windows are tinted so I can’t see who’s inside. Typical Vegas drivers, I think to myself as I open the door to the cab, but when I start to get in, the driver’s door of the Camaro pops open right there in the middle of the road. I hesitate for only a second when I see a shoe step onto the pavement. It’s a nice shoe—gray, with a black pant leg hanging over it. I follow those pants all the way up the body of the man who’s now standing in the middle of the street staring at me like it’s me who’s in the road holding up traffic.

  At first I’m just confused, but then I recognize him. It’s the guy I met at the bar a few nights ago. He’s dressed very business casual, his brown hair fixed to perfection, and I can see those blue eyes even clearer in the morning sun. Holy shit, he’s even hotter than before.

  I don’t speak. I’m not even sure I’m breathing. It’s more like I’m just existing in an immovable silence as his mouth shifts into a flawless smile.

  “Hi,” he says, oblivious to the fact that he’s got four cars behind him. “I thought that was you. Do you remember me?”

  I don’t know how I want to respond. I mean, of course I remember him—how the hell could a girl forget a guy who looks like this?—but do I want to admit that I remember him? I don’t want it to seem like I’ve been sitting up thinking about him for the past three days like I’m obsessed or something. What do I say? Crap.

  “I’m not sure I do. Do we know each other?” I reply, satisfied with my answer.

  “I wouldn’t exactly say we know each other, but we met a few nights ago at Stacy’s Bar. Your name’s Layla, right?”

  He remembered my name.

  I force back a smile. “Good memory. I’m not sure what your name is though,” I lie.

  “It’s Austin,” he answers just as a horn blares like a thousand trumpets from behind him. He jumps a little at the sound, and then smiles at me like it wasn’t embarrassing. “Listen, I was actually on my way to go get some breakfast, and you look like you could use a ride. You hungry?”

  Now I feel like I’m in a real predicament. Here I am, standing next to a cab with the only man who hasn’t annoyed me or tried to pay to get in my pants, he’s asking me to go have breakfast with him, but I’m still wearing my dress from last night and I still have the chubby guy’s stench on me. I know I should say no, but I kind of don’t want to.

  “Umm,” I start, but a horn goes off again, and then Austin speaks up.

  “Come on,” he says, smiling like the pissed off drivers behind him don’t bother him one bit. “I don’t want to have to keep holding up traffic like this. You hear this? You could save me by getting in.” Another horn, this one from two cars back, which seems to set off the whole line as they all start pressing their horns. “If you don’t hurry, they might actually kill me. You don’t want me to die, do you? This is your chance to save my life.”

  The horns are like a symphony of hate, but Austin’s totally unfazed and smiling.

  “Ugh. Okay, but only because I don’t want to see you get beat up by all these people.”

  I speed walk over to the car—his smile never fades—and climb into the passenger seat. The inside of the Camaro is a pristine red and it just screams sexy. The low rumble of the engine gives my legs a tiny massage. As he puts the car in first gear and slowly lets up off the clutch, I rub the leather seat, marveling at how well kept it is.

  “Nice car,” I say quie
tly, almost under my breath.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is this what you pick up all the girls in?”

  He smiles again. “Nah, definitely not. What about you, you don’t have a car?”

  “No, I do. I just left it . . . at home. I crashed at a friend’s house last night and I didn’t want to wake her, so I decided to take a cab home.”

  “That’s cool. Nice of you to let her sleep. So, can I confess something to you?”

  I look over at him. He has his eyes on the road, which is good, because it gives me a chance to just look at him and admire his face. He’s got a strong, masculine jaw and full lips. I can see the hair on his face is starting to grow in, which he’ll probably shave soon since he’s in the military. He’s gorgeous, and the way he shifts through the gears with those strong hands is somehow sexy. You know someone is stunning when every little thing they do is seductive to you, like, the sensual way he’s blinking is definitely a turn on.

  “Umm, a confession? Sure.” I answer finally, still checking him out.

  “Okay. I have to admit I’ve been thinking about the night we met at Stacy’s. It was only for a little while, but something about that little while kind of stuck with me. I was upset you got pulled away by that guy, and I was hoping I’d be able to see you again. Didn’t expect it to be today, but I’m glad I recognized you out there.”

  I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t. I just let him keep going.

  “So, you can be honest with me, okay? Was that your boyfriend the other night?” He asks the question, but doesn’t look at me. He stares straight ahead, but I can tell he’s really hoping I say no.

  “That wasn’t my boyfriend. That was my boss, Damien,” I reply.

  “You went to the bar with your boss?”

  Crap.

  “Umm, yeah. We happen to be pretty good friends. He was feeling sick and was ready to go home so I had to help him out.” I hate to keep lying to him, and I’m not even really sure why I’m doing it, but I’m not ready to tell him what I actually do. It really isn’t even any of his business, anyway.

  “I see. So, do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No.” He smiles when he hears the answer.

  “Good,” he says, finally turning to look at me as we pull up to a stoplight.

  “Why’s that good?”

  “Because now I don’t have to worry about being the asshole who’s trying to steal another man’s woman.”

  I feel a smile coming on, but I force it back and focus on maintaining an expressionless face. I know what he’s trying to do, and won’t let myself get caught up in it.

  It only takes us a few minutes to get to IHOP. Austin pulls into the parking lot and makes sure to park three spaces away from any other cars. I understand why. We walk into the restaurant where a forty-something year old redhead takes us to our seats. Both of us order coffee, but I’m sure I’m the only one of us who did it just to mask the smell of the man I was just lying next to.

  “So, what’s your story, Layla?” Austin kicks off the conversation. “How is it that someone who looks like you doesn’t have a boyfriend? I don’t believe for a second that guys aren’t hitting on you every second you’re not in your house.”

  “There’s no story. I just don’t have much time for that kind of stuff, you know? I’m pretty busy with work most of the time.”

  “I see, and you’re a bartender, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where at?”

  Crap.

  “Why? Are you going to come stalk me if I tell you? I’ve had to deal with that, you know.”

  “Oh yeah? I’m not surprised. I don’t know, if you tell me, I might end up being a little stalker-ish. Who knows?” He lets out a chuckle. It’s a relaxing sound—something that I’m not really used to. He’s got very comforting eyes, and a sense of humor that makes me want to sit back and relax with him, but I’m not falling for that. History has taught me better than that.

  “I work at a club called . . . Majestic,” I lie again. “You ever heard of Majestic?”

  “Nah, I haven’t, actually. Is that off The Strip or something?”

  “Yeah, more towards Summerlin. Kind of on the outskirts of it. Anyway, so what’s your story then? No girlfriend?”

  The waitress comes over and sets the two coffee mugs on the table and I immediately pull mine closer to me so I can smell it. The chubby-man-stink is masked, at least for a little while. We place our orders and the waitress walks away before Austin is finally able to answer.

  “Nah, I guess we’re the same when it comes to not having much time for that kind of thing. I’ve been in the Air Force a few years now, and I’ve had to deploy a lot, so I really haven’t had the time for anything serious. I just work, and don’t get too caught up in the rest.”

  “And what is it that you do in the Air Force?”

  “I’m a helicopter pilot.”

  A pilot. Impressive.

  “Wow! That’s pretty badass of you. You like it?”

  “It has its ups and downs,” he replies. His face seems to sadden for a brief second, but he quickly pulls himself out of it. “I love flying, but it makes me have to leave a lot. It keeps me busy.”

  “Uh-huh, and no girlfriends out there on those deployments? I’ve heard a lot of stories about how deployments go, especially for a pilot.”

  “Is that right? What kind of stories have you heard?”

  “You know, the typical stuff. That there’s a lot of girls out there who sleep around with all the guys. I had a friend who was in the military and she called them desert queens.”

  He lets out a resounding laugh that lights up his entire face.

  “Desert queens. Wow.”

  “Yeah, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Those are the girls who don’t really look good enough to get attention when they’re at home, but on these deployments, men find them irresistible. I can tell from how red you’re turning that you know what I’m talking about.”

  He sips his coffee as he starts to come down from the laughter.

  “I hate to admit it, but of course I know what desert queens are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a twenty-three year old man and I’ve had girlfriends and such, but nothing serious. Ever.”

  “You’re not interested in anything serious? Too busy with the desert queens?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way. Desert queens are one thing, but I’ve never met anyone who was really worth saving like that.”

  “Worth saving?”

  “Yeah, I mean worth keeping around and keeping in contact with when I’m in another country. Someone who’s willing to wait for me while I’m gone. Someone who I need so much in my life that their face never leaves my mind, even when I’m thousands of miles away. That’s a hard thing to find, you know?”

  “I definitely know. I’ve had my run-ins with short term relationships. Very short term. I have to be honest with you, Austin, I’m not too confident in the male species these days. It kind of feels like all of you have caught an airborne asshole virus that’s been floating around.”

  He chuckles again.

  “You’re right. There’s a lot of dicks out there, both literally and metaphorically, but we’re not all bad.”

  Now it’s my turn to giggle. “You’ll have to prove that one.”

  “Well, I hope I get the chance.”

  “Wow. That’s a little heavy isn’t it?” I ask, even though I thought it was sweet. He doesn’t answer me though, he just shrugs it off.

  I look up at him and he stares back. It’s the first time since the night at the bar that we’ve really stared into each other’s eyes. The blue in his is like looking into a perfect view of the calm ocean. They’re enchanting, and in that brief moment of silence and stillness, I feel a little flutter in my heart. It’s the first little flutter my heart has ever felt. It’s not insta-love or the sudden sound of cupid’s arrow shooting me in the ass. In fact, I don’t know what it is, but I know
it’s something I shouldn’t be allowing myself to feel. There’s no room in my life for fluttering hearts. Fluttering hearts scare the hell out of me. Not to mention, I just met Austin, and he’s done nothing to prove that he’s any different from the rest of the asshole men I’ve encountered in my life.

  We’re interrupted by the waitress setting the plates down on the table. The food looks great, but as I reach for my fork, my phone chimes in my pocket. It’s a text message. Probably just Marlene finally responding to me. I pull the phone out and check it. It’s not Marlene.

  Damien: I need you to come in a little early tonight. A couple of hours.

  My annoyance with the text must be written all over my face, because I look up from the phone to find Austin staring at me as he chews.

  “Bad news?” he asks.

  “Umm, just work stuff.” I put the phone on the table and start eating, trying my best to ignore Damien and his constant drama, but the phone chimes again.

  Damien: A guy just booked you for a bachelor party tonight. You and three other girls. Might be a long night, but the payday will be fucking awesome, so get your ass here as early as you can tonight.

  I read the message and I feel sick to my stomach. Another night of being treated like shit by a bunch of drunk imbeciles, forced to do things no one should ever have to do to earn money. In a place like Las Vegas, bachelor parties are the fucking worst.

  See, this is why I feel fear when my heart has little flutters. It’s because no man would want a woman like me, not for anything long term or serious. If Austin found out what I do, he’d be out of here faster than that nice car of his can drive. I wouldn’t expect him to be so sweet if he knew where I worked. When guys find out what I do for a living, it turns them into horn dogs, instantly. No flowers, no compliments, no fucking breakfast at IHOP. It’s just, “Great, then when are we going to fuck?” Guys are pigs, and I don’t want to stick around long enough for Austin to show me that he’s one too.

  “You okay?” I hear him say after I go a while without talking.