by R. W. Jones
Bahama winced as the nurse lifted up the paw and squeezed it, but didn’t let that stop her from licking the face of the nurse, who didn’t seem to mind.
“Yeah, seems like something is a little off. Dr. Sutton will be right in.”
Bahama wanted to jump off the metal examination table, but I held her in place. After a few minutes, Dr. Sutton walked in.
After shaking my hand and introducing himself, he put on gloves and checked her heart rate and temperature. Bahama didn’t like that much, especially the second half, and temporarily forgot she had a hurt leg.
“Easy there girl. Her heart rate is up a little, but her temperature is fine, so I don’t think there is a break, as that can raise the temperature some. Do you mind if we take some x-rays just in case?”
Dr. Sutton lifted Bahama and took her to the back, and I sat down on a chair in the office. I was overcome with thoughts as it occurred to me that this is what my wife had done for a living for so many years. I had never seen her work, but I always imagined her calm and understanding when it came to her job, mainly because that’s how she was in everyday life.
“Looks like it’s just a strain. With a few days of rest she should be okay. We’ll go ahead and wrap it up, keeping it in place, which should relieve some of her pain. She probably won’t like the tape, but I’d like to try to keep it on her for at least two weeks. We’ll also give you a low dose pain medicine. The pain will get worse for her as the day goes on, so you can probably just get away with giving it to her at night before you go to sleep. Do you have any questions?”
“Nope, just glad it wasn’t worse. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
“Oh, we’d do anything for Bruce around here; he’s one of our favorite patients,” he said with a laugh. Thinking about Bruce’s woeful look after his mishap with Bahama, I imagined him having a hard time at the vet, so I wondered if Dr. Sutton was being facetious with his last statement. He then added, “The nurse will be right in with the medicine and the bill.”
She came right in, and I was surprised to see the bill was nearly $400 bucks, but I reasoned it was to be expected because of the x-rays and seeing us on short notice. Additionally, I had no idea of the price of animal care in Vegas.
When I handed the receptionist the bill and reached for my wallet with the other she stopped me. “I guess the nurse didn’t tell you. Mr. Tubbs told us he’ll take care of the bill. He felt so bad.”
“Wow, that’s so nice of him. Can you please tell him that I said that next time you see him?”
I had saved about 400 dollars today. That should be plenty enough for ordering delivery when Jen got to my apartment less than an hour from when we left the vet.
29
I made Bahama a makeshift doggy bed on the carpet, but of course she wasted no time hopping over to the bed, three legged, and jumping up. I myself hopped into the shower, two legged, and washed quickly, shaved, and dressed. Even at my own house I retained my fear of being late, but even after all my worrying, I still had 15 minutes to go before Jen was scheduled to arrive. I waited at the computer, briefly considering looking up menus of local delivery joints, but hadn’t yet decided if I was ready to eat in front of Jen yet, so instead just sat there.
At about two minutes after 8:00 she arrived. After giving me a hug, a hug I was learning to enjoy more and more, she walked in and saw Bahama. Bahama had sat up but was stuck in an inner battle on whether or not to jump down from the bed, concerned it would hurt her paw. Jen, seeing her dilemma, walked over to Bahama for their first introduction.
“Awww what happened to you little girl,” while looking back up to me. “You didn’t tell me she had hurt herself. What happened?”
“She had a little mishap at the dog park today with a dog three times her size.”
“Uh oh! I guess she’s okay since she’s home already?”
“Yes, Bruce’s owner was very apologetic and even footed the bill. It’s just a sprain; she should be back to her old self in a few days,” I told her.
“I sure hope so. I know she’s your traveling partner – can’t split up the dynamic duo!”
“Only thing is I probably shouldn’t go out tonight because we were told she should rest her leg for a few days,” I said slightly hesitantly because I really didn’t want her to leave.
“Oh. No. I’m easy, I don’t mind hanging out if you don’t mind me hanging around.” I certainly didn’t mind. She continued, “Are you hungry? I’m starving. Want to get some Chinese?” she asked as she kicked off her shoes. She was dressed in a light sweater and jeans, so she wasn’t necessarily dressed out for a big night on the town, relieving some of my worry that she had bigger plans.
“Yes, I’m starving,” I said, continuing to tell silly white lies out of nervousness, “you got a favorite place?”
“No, I’m not too familiar with Henderson, but you can just do an internet search for Chinese food in Henderson and take your pick. Don’t they all taste the same anyway?”
We ordered food, and while waiting it dawned on me that this was most likely my night to spill my guts, as Jen had done so on our previous date. Even when I just thought about it to myself it was hard for me to use the word “date” so I usually just glided over that word in my brain. Still, even though I had been out of the game for over ten years I knew that this was considered a date and it was time for me to do some talking.
Over orange and sesame chicken, I opened up. Even during our conversation I wondered if I was talking because I was afraid of the silence.
I told her about how my wife had been had been my first love. I told her most of the same story I had relived in my drive across country. I told her everything from meeting in college that first day to the day she died, though I left out some details about the end of her life. I did this because not only was it hard for me to talk about but also because a lot of those conversations I had with my wife – the sharing of fears and things we’ll miss out together once she died – were sacred to me.
Like my last date with Jen, time seemed to go quicker when we were together. When I was done talking about my wife, for the most part, we sat in silence for a few minutes, Jen loving on Bahama and I left in my thoughts. She finally broke the silence.
“Have you had a chance to see more of Vegas?” I realized that a lot of what I had said was pretty heavy, and maybe she thought this was a safer topic for now. I couldn’t really blame her.
“The truth is,” and it was the truth, “I haven’t done many Vegasy things since I’ve been here. Most of the time I have been hanging out in the room with Bahama and attempting to write. Oh, and eating too much. That Fatburger is pretty good,” I added with a laugh that I had adopted from my date.
“Don’t take this next question the wrong way, but why are you here?”
I thought for a second, then explained to her that after just sitting in the house for a full year and reading stories about people who have gone all over the world I felt like Vegas was one of the “must see places,” and yes, I did the air quotation marks.
After another moment I added, “I think I got really comfortable in the Keys. I dare say I almost felt at home there. Sure, there were thousands of tourists pouring in and out of there every day, but when I was there I didn’t feel like I was one of them. At least after a week or so, anyway. Heck, I even got a job there.”
“Vegas is a little different, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking I came here just for the hell of it without thinking too much of why I was going. I’m an old man, I guess, I don’t have a huge desire to go around clubs and bar hopping anymore,” I fought the urge to say “unless you were there.”
“Well, if you were up for it, I could take you back to my stomping grounds and see how you like that.”
I knew she was talking about her trips to the Pacific Coast, but couldn’t help it.
“Eh, I don’t know, what exactly is there for me to see in Kansas City? A tornado? No thanks.”
Jen leaned over just far enough from the bed she was sitting and temporarily stopped rubbing on Bahama’s belly to punch me in the arm. “You know what I mean!”
Jen left a little while later after that, saying Bahama needed to get some rest. We made plans to get together soon after.
This time when she came in for a hug she planted a kiss on my cheek. It wasn’t a friendly smooch. I was taken aback, not because I didn’t like it, which I did, but because it was the first time I had even had those types of thoughts for over two years. She caught my eye to see my reaction, but because I recoiled a bit she believed I wasn’t interested. She went back in for a hug, which I gladly accepted and left me with a smile.
As I drifted off to sleep that night I only hoped I hadn’t disappointed her.
30
We started seeing each other a few times a week, and I suspected we both wished it could be even more, but her work schedule prevented that. In general we’d check out a restaurant or bar, and end up talking for hours. On almost all of our dates she would ask me what I had been up to since our last date, knowing I had done nothing “Vegasy.” After a few dates and me answering this question with my typical “Oh, you know, stayed in the room and wrote and hung out with Bahama,” I knew she was teasing me. Around the sixth or seventh time we had agreed to go on a date, she called me a few hours before to tell me that we’re doing something “Vegasy” that night.
“Oh really, what exactly are we doing?” I asked, thinking it was going to be gambling or a show.
“I’m taking you to a strip club!”
“Ummm,” was about all I could say.
“I have a friend who is a bartender there, not a stripper, and we can sit and talk with her. Don’t judge it before you try it; you’ll have a good time.”
I was surprised she thought this is something I would like to do, and even wondered if she had hidden alternatives as to why she was dating me. But I also figured she was going through a lot of work if she was planning on scamming me in any way, so I tossed these thoughts to the side. I still hadn’t talked. After a few more seconds, she spoke again.
“Listen, if you really don’t want to go that’s fine. I don’t want to force you. I just thought for someone who seems to enjoy a lot of experiences you would get a kick out of this. Maybe it will even end up in your writing one day! Trust me, it’s not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable, and if you don’t want to go, no hard feelings at all. ”
I apprehensively agreed despite remembering my last time at a strip club for my 21st birthday. After a while of sitting in the room and contemplating the plans we had set for the evening, I did come to the conclusion that it would indeed be a break from the normal for me. It may have been an odd way of showing it, but I could tell Jen was certainly looking out for my best interests.
We got to Tigris a little after nine o’clock. Being that it was a Thursday the strip club wasn’t packed, but it was busy enough that I didn’t think it would be considered a slow night in the strip club world. When you walked into Tigris there were bathrooms to the right, and everything else was to the left. The place was huge, and seemed to go farther than the naked eye could see, but that could have been from the fog machines they implemented during their shows. Upon entering, you first came to the bar, located on the left side of the room. If you continued walking straight to the other wall you would pass multiple stages with different kinds of set-ups. The last stage you came to was for the headliner acts, as it had the biggest stage, with a long cat-walk, and the most stage-side seating. On a Thursday night though, all of the action ended before the main stage.
Jen stopped at the bar and asked for her friend Ashley, who was on a smoke break, as there is a no inside smoking in Vegas. After ordering a couple of drinks from the other bartender, Ashley came back in. Jen had explained to me in the car that she had met Ashley at Burger Bar when Ashley had been on a date. In much the same way I may have misjudged Jen when I first met her, there was more to Ashley than just being a bartender in a strip club. She had left Chicago after working as a legal secretary for a popular and important law firm. After a few years of that work she burned out, and came to Vegas for a change of scenery. Lots of people doing that lately, it seemed.
Ashley introduced herself with a strong handshake, one I imagined that came from bartending, as Jen had a similar grip. Ashley had blonde hair, a nose piercing, and very large breasts which I’m sure would have gotten her another job within Tigris had she wanted it. Ashley was busy, but between customers she and Jen talked and caught up, not having seen each other for a few months due to conflicting work schedules. Jen had introduced me as “her friend Mike” and Ashley cocked an eyebrow towards Jen, as in asking “is he just ‘your friend Mike’ or is he more?” I’m not sure how I expected Jen to introduce me, but you can bet I thought about it the remainder of the night. This was an especially hard thought to stay focused on when you think the girl next to you may be your girlfriend and you are surrounded by a bunch of gorgeous naked women.
Female patrons get a lot of attention in a strip club. While Jen was there mostly to show me a good time and to catch up with a friend, she did her best to make her fellow peers in the service industry feel wanted by giving the talent a good tip, though all she did was talk to most of the strippers, opting out of a free show or dance.
I had a clear shot from my barstool to the closest stage, and spent most of the night peeking out towards that when Jen and Ashley were in conversation. It wasn’t that they weren’t involving me, but with the music as loud as it as it was, it was hard to have a two way conversation, let alone a three-way. Conversation.
A bachelor party was taking place, and at one point they took the groom-to-be onto the stage and sat him on a chair with his hands tied behind his back and around the stripper pole. Flashbacks of my 21st birthday ran rampant.
Shortly after the future groom was tied up, a woman was on his lap, giving him a lap dance. But then she called two of her friends over, and at one point they were all on him. His buddies, who had surely spent a lot of money to make his friend the center of attention, were all loving it, but I thought I saw an uncomfortable look on their tied up friend. The original stripper then did this move where she jumped to the top of the stripper pole, and slid down head first, ending with her head in the man’s lap and her legs wrapped securely around his head. When she gyrated I swore you could hear his head clank off the pole. When the two songs were over, the man tried his best to smile, but he basically leaped off the stage back into the comfort of the private booth on the other side of the stage.
Shortly after that show, Jen went outside with Ashley when she went outside for another smoke break. I also figured this is when Jen would tell Ashley about our relationship. I didn’t have much time to ponder what exactly she would say to her friend, as a few seconds after Jen was out of the bar, a long-legged stripper sat next to me on Jen’s barstool.
“Hey, I’m Misty, is that your girlfriend?” she asked while extending her hand limply for a handshake. After the handshake her hand landed on my thigh, and stayed there. I contemplated my answers, as I didn’t think me telling Misty that Jen was my girlfriend would deter her in the slightest. However, I didn’t want to put Jen in any possible embarrassing situations, so I elected to keep her out of it.
“No, we’re just friends. She’s just showing me around,” I said, with my nervous laughter creeping back in.
“I was hoping you’d say that. I think you’re really cute, do you want a private dance?”
“I’m really sorry, I have no money on me,” I told her. I even reached into my pockets to flip them inside out for emphasis. My wallet was in my back pocket, but she didn’t need to know that. I fully expected that move and line would cause her to get up and move on to the next guy, but it didn’t
“That’s cool, baby. Do you mind if we just sit and talk for a while?”
“No,” I figured she could have been tired from a night full of grinding and wearing ridi
culously tall heels, so if she needed to use me to take a rest, I figured it was the least I could do.
“I really do think you’re cute, you know. If she isn’t your girlfriend, like you say, I wouldn’t mind going out with you. I don’t plan on being a stripper forever and you look like as nice a guy as there is in here. I haven’t even seen you get a dance yet, so chances are you aren’t a creep either.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I semi-lied, “I’m just getting over a tough relationship.” While that was true I was really just thinking about Jen and wondering when she was going to come back in and save me from this situation. I also thought that Jen coming back could be a cause for concern. I know Jen wouldn’t care I was talking to a stripper, knowing she most likely approached me, but it could make for some odd questioning based on the lines I had fed Misty so far.
“That’s very nice of you to say, and I don’t mind your choice of profession; I’m just not interested in a relationship right now. It’s nothing against you.”
Seemingly ignoring my statement, she asked, “Do you like art? I used to love going to art museums. I used to want to be an artist.”
“Um. I don’t know much about it, but I appreciate certain works of art.” Like my date for the evening.
For the next ten minutes she told me about her favorite works of art, and was fascinated to hear I was a writer, an artist in my own right, she told me. Unfortunately, the things I had written weren’t quite as fascinating to her.
I then saw Ashley back behind the bar. I wondered where Jen was. I looked over Misty’s shoulder towards the entrance to see her leaning against the wall flashing me a smile that was more of a smirk. She had wanted me to have a “Vegasy” experience and I guess talking to a depressed stripper about art fit the bill.
“I’m really sorry that you aren’t interested, I think we would have had a good time. I better get back to work. Thanks for your time, love.” As she got up, her hand brushed way up my thigh, surely by design.
