Count On Me

by Abigail Graham

  When it got dark, that huge roof would light up with thousands upon thousands of colored lights in a spectacular show that ran from nine at night to three in the morning, and there was a stage for concerts and all sorts of people and street performers, vendors and a fortune teller in a little hut at the end of the street.

  Andi came out of the bathroom in a horribly indecent green thong bikini and started filling up the hot tub.

  “Somebody might see you,” I chirped.

  She rolled her eyes, bent over, and mooned Las Vegas, not that the string between her cheeks gave her much coverage anyway. When the hot tub began to bubble she lowered herself into the water.

  “Can I take my nap now?”

  “Fine,” Andi sighed. “We’re not going out until dark anyway. I got us tickets to a show.”

  Good enough for me. I freshened up and changed and claimed the bed furthest from the window, hugging a pillow as I closed my eyes. Hours and hours on the plane and the car ride and all of it just fell on me like a lead weight and I was out like a light.

  I woke up to find Andi sitting up next to me in the bed, drinking a wine cooler from the honor bar and flipping channels. She stopped on Storage Wars.

  “I hear this show is fixed.”

  “Nuh uh,” I mumbled.

  “Yeah, it is,” said Andi. “They plant stuff. Who the hell leaves Spider-Man #1 or whatever in a burning hot storage bin in the middle of nowhere and just forgets about it? You know there’s an honor bar here, right?”

  “I don’t want to drink,” I said, though the last words came out all mushed up by a yawn. “I’ll be the designated driver.”

  “Fine,” Andi sighed. “You’re not going out like that. Go get cleaned up and change.”

  I didn’t feel like arguing. I took a quick shower and put on something a little more appropriate for the weather. It would be warm here even at night, closer to summer in Philadelphia, so I put on some capris and a loose, sleeveless t-shirt. When I came out of the bathroom, Andi was decked out in Daisy Dukes and a belly shirt with YOU CAN’T AFFORD ME written across the front in gold glitter, and flip-flops.

  Andi took one look at me and rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, well. I guess you’re off the market, anyway.”

  I sighed. “So are you.”

  “Hey, just because the store is closed, doesn’t mean they take the signs down. Let’s go have some fun.”

  “Okay. Fun.”

  Back down to the parking garage, and the Mustang was parked by the door. We went to get it ourselves, after Andi gave another generous tip to the attendant and handed me the key. I put the top down and Andi gave me a derisive snort when I stopped at the entrance and looked both ways, and adjusted my mirrors, before pulling out into traffic.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to the Strip. I’ll let you know,” said Andi, sinking into the passenger’s seat. “Just drive.”

  I drove.

  It was a more impressive sight at night, so much so that I had to remind myself to look at the road. Even in the distance the Strip was a flashing panoply of colored light, like a boardwalk carnival writ huge across the desert landscape. It only got bigger, and bigger as Las Vegas Boulevard became the Strip proper. We passed the Stratosphere and slowed down with the traffic to the perpetual crawl of the Strip and just stared at the sight of all that light and color. Even Andi was hushed by the spectacle, so much so that she almost missed the turn.

  “Hey, here it is.”

  I pulled off the road, up a ramp towards a parking garage. I started towards the self-service parking but Andi punched my shoulder.

  “Go to the valets.”

  Andi led the way, strutting through the garage after the attendants took the car, and slipped the ticket in her back pocket. The downtown hotels were big but this place was enormous. We walked out into a lobby that had to be four stories high, with a sky painted on the ceiling, and a twenty foot tall marble statue in the middle of a fountain ahead of us. Andi looked around and whistled.

  “Why didn’t we stay here?” I said.

  “Downtown is a better deal,” said Andi. “We’re gonna miss the show.”

  “What show?”

  Then I saw it. It took me a moment to process what All Male Nude Revue meant.

  I stopped in place, I crossed my arms, and I put my foot down. Literally.

  “No.”

  Andi sighed and gave me a sharp look. “Chris, come on.”

  “I said no.”

  “Look, it’s not like we’re going to a strip club where some guy is going to grind his dong in your face. I just want you to see more than one dude’s dick in your lifetime. It’s my civic duty.”

  I shook my head and my voice tightened. I was really getting mad.

  “No. I’m not doing this, Andi. I refuse.”

  Andi crinkled her nose. “I already bought the damn tickets.”

  “No.”

  “It’s just a show, Chris. Come on.”

  “I said no. I’m not going. I’ll wait for you out here.”

  “Fine,” Andi snapped. “I paid, I’m going in. You can just sit out here and sulk.”

  She stormed off, leaving no room for further argument. I watched her get in line and headed for the casino floor.

  I was scared of getting my purse snatched, so all I had on me was my driver’s license and a wad of cash. After I glanced back and saw Andi enter the amphitheater to watch the show, I glumly sat down at a slot machine and fed it a twenty.

  I did not want to spoil my friendship with Andi and have her move out of my life on a sour note. That’s why I was here in the first place. But, I knew that he would never go to a strip club or a show like that with naked girls, and he would view it as betraying me. I looked at my ring and knew I owed him the same.

  So I plunked away on the nickel slot machine, doomed to wind down my twenty dollar bill, since I had no idea what I was doing. I just hit the MAX BET button over and over and wished Andi was there with me. She’d make a joke about who Max was and make wasting money fun somehow.

  The show couldn’t be more than an hour, maybe an hour and a half, tops. Andi would walk out with some guy’s thong on her head and tell me a crazy story and we’d make up and go do something else all night until we crawled back to the room, and then it was just another day of fooling around until it was time to go the airport and I would be back home.

  It was half over, and the Big Day was ticking ever closer, minute by minute. Now that everything was ready, my dress, the cake, the hall, the arrangements with the church, all I had to do was wait, and that was, for sure, the hardest part.

  I looked over at the bar. I was the designated driver but I could have one, right? I was bored out of my mind. Maybe I’d just have some ginger ale and pretend it was scotch or something. I got up and wandered over, leaving a dollar in the slot machine, unclaimed. The old lady that took my spot didn’t deign to point out that my wagers were not yet finished. Part of me wished her a jackpot win on my nickel. I already had everything I wanted.

  Still, when I sat down alone at the bar I felt bad for abandoning my friend. Was it really that big of a deal? An hour of discomfort to make Andi happy.

  The bartender came over and I ordered my favorite drink, a screwdriver. Orange juice and vodka.

  That’s when he came up to the bar.

  He was like a living statue, a chunk of marble that got up and walked around on its own. Everything about him was bleached white, his skin his long hair pulled into a severe ponytail, even his fingernails. Like there wasn’t a spot of color to him, except his eyes. His eyes weren’t really brown, they were a dark red, like the color of dried blood that’s still a little wet.

  Even his clothes were white, a freaking white suit, the white broken only by black shoelaces and an honest-to-God string tie. He sat down next to me and looked over and I guarded my drink, tucking it up under my chin. I thought about moving away, hopping one bar seat down, but I didn’t want to be r
ude.

  Sitting to my left, he took my hand.

  I tried to pull away, but it was like yanking on my hand, stuck in a stone crevice. I could feel the power of his grip in my joints as he examined the ring on my finger. Finally he let go.

  “Get lost,” I said, in my toughest voice.

  He leaned on his hand and smiled at me with pale bloodless lips, like two pink worms.

  “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to run, and I’m going to chase you.”

  4

  I just stared at him.

  “W-what?”

  He sat back and adjusted his coat, running his fingers over the lapels. I saw all his fingernails were shaved to sharp points.

  “It’s now eight forty-three. If you can make it out of the city by midnight, you will be free. I’ll give you a ten minute head start.”

  I continued to stare at him.

  He sighed. “This is my favorite part, watching your perception of the world crumble. No, I am not insane. No, this is not a joke. No, no one can help you. Your time begins now. I’d run if I were you.”

  With a little flicker of a smile he stepped down from the bar stool and walked out into the crowd behind me. I turned around and around, but as soon as he left my peripheral vision he was just gone, even though he should have stood out like a sore thumb. The bartender came over to me and looked at my drink.

  “Ma’am? Another?”

  “No, thanks,” I absently slid a twenty across the bar. He could keep the change. “Did you see that guy?”

  “What guy?”

  “The one sitting here just now.”

  “I didn’t see anybody.”

  A lump formed in my throat.

  “Is there security here or something?”

  “Yeah, over there.” He nodded towards the elevators.

  I dropped off the stool and walked across the casino floor. In the back of my head I was ticking the seconds off that ten minute head start. I had to get Andi and get the hell out of here. If that guy was stalking us he might do something to her.

  Security would help. It was their job. They would secure me, right? I spotted a bored looking guard in a faux-cop uniform. The rent-a-cops here were serious business. They carried guns. I went right up to him.

  “Hey. Some guy just threatened me at the bar.”

  The guard stirred on his feet and looked down at me. He was a big guy, built like a linebacker, and had his thumbs perched on his duty belt. His hands weren’t helping it stay up any more than the big paunch rolling it forward. He pulled the belt up and adjusted himself.

  “He here now?”

  “No. I lost track of him. Look, I want to get my friend and get out of here before he comes back. Can you help me?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, hon. Where’d you see your friend last?”

  “At that… revue thing,” I said, choking down the embarrassment. “She was heading into the theater.”

  “That show ended fifteen minutes ago. Were you supposed to meet up with her?”

  Fifteen minutes ago? That made no sense, I was only there for a few minutes. Then I remembered what the man at the bar said. Eight forty-three. That was almost two hours after we arrived. Had I been sitting at the bar that long? I clutched my head, trying to remember. It was like there was this blank spot in my mind between stepping away from the slot machine and the strange pale man confronting me. The guard was staring at me.

  “You alright?”

  “No, no, I’m not.”

  I swallowed. The lump in my throat was joined by butterflies in my stomach. Any worse and I’d be vomiting cliches. I looked around the room, trying to slow my breathing. I was starting to panic. I wanted to go home. When I got my hands on Andi, I was going to lock both of us in the hotel room until it was time to catch our flight tomorrow. I hated this place. The car. She probably went back to the car to wait for me there.

  I walked back to the casino floor and looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Andi strutting around the room, but all I saw was a jumble of strangers and flashing lights and the sounds made my head hurt. Fluttery panic filled me from my toes to my throat and I had to leave. I ran back through the casino floor to the parking garage.

  I went up to the valet counter, and realized Andi had the slip in her pocket. Damn it.

  The attendant looked up.

  “Miss?”

  “Is the red Mustang convertible still here?”

  “Ma’am, we’ve got two red-“

  “I was in it,” I snapped, exasperated. “Me and another girl. I know you remember us.”

  “Oh, yeah. She left.”

  My stomach sank. No. No way, Andi would never abandon me. She may have had an acidic personality sometimes, but she was never cruel. No, if she couldn’t find me, Andi would be raising holy hell, leading a train of security guards and concierges and freaking James Bond if she could find him, all around this casino.

  She’d be panicking right now, throwing a tantrum on the casino floor until I showed up. I’d been through that before, or something like it. One time we got separated on the class trip in high school and Andi had a panic attack. Even after she found me it took hours for her to stop crying. No, this wasn’t right at all.

  “Did she leave with anybody else?”

  “Yeah,” the attendant shrugged. “Tall, old guy. I guess he was old. All white hair.”

  My stomach dropped through my knees.

  Oh. Oh God.

  Instinct kicked in. When I started college my Mom drilled it into my head that the first thing I should do if I felt threatened was find a crowd, a big crowd in someplace public, and get the attention of the police and stay there until somebody came for me. So I turned and I ran.

  One guy was not a crowd, even with a few valet parkers further up the ramp hanging around waiting to pull new cars into the spots. I went back into the casino, hoping the crowd and public space would protect me. As I ran out towards the table games I realized I was being stupid, panicky. I could just call Andi and find out where she was. I slipped my hand in my pocket.

  Nothing. My phone was gone, and to my rising panic, so was my driver’s license. I had nothing in my pockets but a few folded up twenties.

  This. Could not. Be happening.

  It didn’t matter that the gambling floor was huge, it felt like the walls were falling in on me. So I ran. I ran all the way through, legs pumping, up the front steps to the doors and threw myself outside into the hot night air, under the blinding lights that blocked out all the stars, and when I turned around I saw him walking calmly through the casino, passing by the revelers inside like he was walking through raindrops, rusty eyes locked on me. I couldn’t hear him from so far away but I clearly saw him mouth the words, time’s up.

  I pushed out into the crowd and let myself be pulled into the flow of foot traffic. The lights were too bright, the crowd too noisy. Everywhere there was yelling, shouting, laughter, camera flashes and drunkards wrapped up in beads waving around huge drink cups. A guy in a foam rubber Michael Jackson costume tried to grab me and pull me into a photo.

  I wrenched free of his rhinestone-studded glove and ran. There had to be a cop here. Las Vegas was crawling with cops in cars, on foot, on those Segway things, they were everywhere, but as I looked I saw not a single uniform or badge anywhere in the crowd.

  I wasn’t even sure where I was, just on the Strip. A sign marking the next cross street marked it as Tropicana Avenue. I vaguely remembered passing that way on the way to the hotel, earlier in the day.

  That was it! Get back to the hotel. I could use the phone there, call Andi, figure this out. Eventually she’d have to come back, even if she was out looking for me, right?

  She left with a man with white hair. It didn’t make any sense.

  I looked back. He wasn’t there, it was just the crowd.

  I started to step into the road and jumped back as a taxi rounded the corner, blasting its horn at me. The DON’T WALK sign was lit in baleful red,
warning me to halt with the cluster of twenty or thirty people all around me. That was it! A taxi.

  I could hail a cab, ride back to downtown. I remembered reading in the trip guide not to walk too far up the Strip after dark, past the last casino it was a seedy area and there wasn’t a lot of light. I started giggling to myself. I might get mugged. Wouldn’t that be hilarious!

  I turned around and looked again, this way and that. Then I spotted him, reflected in the glass, but when I turned to find him he wasn’t there and when I looked back, the reflection was gone. Then I turned around and he was ahead of me, posted on the other side of Tropicana Avenue, waiting to cross my way.

  I turned and ran in the opposite direction.

  I pushed through the crowd, ignoring jeers and stares, mumbling my apologies as I ran down the sidewalk against the flow of foot traffic. I moved to the edge of the sidewalk and saw a gap in the oncoming cars, and I ran for it. I darted across the road to the median, stopped, and ran again. A horn blared behind me and I sobbed out loud, throwing my gaze everywhere in a frantic search. He was behind me, I knew it. I could feel his eyes on my back, feel him getting closer, moving up on me with every breath. A siren blared out in a quick woo-woop.

  “Oh thank God,” I shouted.

  I ran over to the car as the cop stepped out, hefting his flashlight.

  “Ma’am? What the hell are you doing in the middle of the road?”

  “Help me!” I screamed. “There’s a man following me.”

  By now I didn’t care if they arrested me. I wanted inside that cop car.

  “Who?”

  “Please let me get in the car,” I begged, I pleaded. “I’ll tell you everything, just let’s get inside, I’m begging you. Please.”

  “Okay, ma’am. Let’s just take a deep breath, and… fine. Get in.”