by Craig Birk
Chapter Twenty Two
The Club
11:40 p.m.
“No Donny, these men are nihilists. There's nothing to be afraid of.”
– Walter Sobchak, The Big Lebowski
Despite having a table reserved, getting into Body English, the club at the Hard Rock, was no simple task. By the time the group made it across the casino from the Center Bar, a disorganized mass of people had grown in front of the entrance to the club. Because groups of attractive girls were ushered into the club like dust into a Hoover, what remained was a tightly packed group of mostly males with some less attractive girls scattered about.
Because he had a connection with the VIP host of the club, Alex led the group. He paused outside of the ever-increasing mass of hopeful entrants and looked for the best pathway to get to the front. He picked a line of attack that looked less densely concentrated and began to fight his way forward. It took about two minutes to reach the entry point. About halfway there, he noticed the tall girl from the bachelorette party but avoided making eye contact. The proverbial “velvet rope” in this case was simply a black plastic removable barrier like those used at the check-in counters and security lines at the airport. Behind this barrier was a well-lit waiting area occupied solely by the five security people who determined who was let into the club. The crew consisted of three medium-sized white men in their mid-twenties wearing black suits, carrying clipboards and wearing listening devices in their ears; one large black man who was about thirty and who was also wearing a black suit but with only a black tee shirt underneath his jacket; and a slightly older woman wearing a purple pantsuit with expensive looking eyeglasses and high heels. Alex quickly got the attention of one of the young men with the clipboards.
“Good evening,” he shouted to the doorman. “I am Alex Reine. We have a table under my name, but I am a friend of Charlie’s. Please let him know we are here.”
The doorman referenced his clipboard. Once he located Alex’s name on it, he smiled, told a group of younger guys to Alex’s right to move aside, and waved Alex and his friends in. “How many in your group?” he asked.
“Just these three,” Alex said motioning to Gary, Mike and Roger.
The doorman quickly returned the barrier to its place, then turned back to them. “Welcome, gentlemen, please wait here and I will tell Charlie you arrived,” he said.
While they waited, Alex realized he had chatted with the black security guy earlier in the year but he could not remember his name. He approached the large man and offered his hand, “Hey, good to see you. How’s it going?” Alex asked.
The bouncer shook his hand, engulfing it. “Yo, man, welcome back. Have fun tonight,” he said before turning his attention back toward the crowd behind the divider.
Charlie, who was the main VIP host of the club, appeared seemingly out of nowhere. At six feet five inches tall, he had an instant presence. He looked to be roughly the same age as Alex, but he wore his hair slicked back so it was hard to tell. He had an infectious smile and always seemed to be in a hurry. Alex met Charlie a few years before when he came to Vegas with one of his co-workers who was a big gambler. In that case, the casino had sent Charlie up to their hotel suite to escort them into the club through a back entrance. Alex didn’t get this kind of treatment on his own, but he maintained enough of a relationship to ensure he had no problems getting into any club in Vegas and he always got a good table when at the Hard Rock.
Charlie (smiling and extending his hand): “Alex! Great to see you, buddy.”
Alex (shaking Charlie’s hand and passing him a hundred-dollar bill): “Hey Charlie. How’s it going?”
Charlie: “Fantastic man. Living the dream.”
Alex: “Sweet, man. Good to hear that. You will make sure we have a nice spot inside?”
Charlie: “Always, my friend. Consider it done.”
Charlie (to the young guy in the suit): “Patrick, these guys are friends of mine. Make sure they are taken care of.”
Patrick: “Of course.”
Charlie: “Okay, Alex, have a blast and let me know if you need anything else this weekend.”
Alex (patting Charlie on the side of the shoulder): “Thanks, Charlie. Take care.”
Patrick: “Gentlemen, please come with me.”
With that, Charlie disappeared as if in a magic trick and Patrick led the way toward a hallway at the back of the waiting area. On the way there, he explained to the guys that there would be a crazy amount of hot chicks in the club on this night, but Alex knew from previous experience that the hosts always said this regardless of its accuracy.
The group stopped in front of an elevator and Patrick hit the call button. The elevator arrived promptly. Its doors slid apart to reveal a silver- and black-walled cabin bathed in purple light. Along the left-hand wall was a very attractive woman who appeared to be some blend of French and Persian with tastefully large fake breasts. She was wearing a violet silk evening gown and black high-heeled shoes. The purple lighting illuminated her, reflecting small pieces of glitter embedded in the exposed skin on her shoulders and neck. She looked elegant, slutty and exotic all at once.
Patrick informed the guys that the woman, Alexandra, would take them to their table. Then he turned to Alexandra and let her know that the group was friends with Charlie and would be at table number eleven for the evening. Alex slipped Patrick a ten-dollar bill and then tried to get into the elevator immediately next to Alexandra, but was already boxed out by Mike and Gary. “God, Vegas is great,” Roger said to no one in particular.
Alex was still trying to figure out how to maneuver closer to Alexandra when he felt something poking him in his left buttock. Surprised, he looked down over his left shoulder to find a midget in a black tuxedo looking up at him with a disturbed expression. He had his right arm raised and was pointing up at Alex with one little finger, jabbing it angrily.
The midget’s face was tightly wedged between Alex’s ass and the back wall of the elevator, so Alex stepped away to give him some breathing room. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, not sure if a more appropriate response was available.
The midget said nothing, so Alex returned to his previous preoccupation, but by then the doors on the far end of the elevator opened and Alexandra walked out, instructing the group to follow her. Gary led the way, followed by Mike and Roger. It was darker inside the club and it was difficult for everyone to see while their eyes adjusted.
Alex: “Did you see the midget?”
Mike: “Yeah. They are quite trendy right now.”
Alex: “Oh.”
Alexandra led them through a smallish room which was filled mostly with girls standing around talking with one another while drinking out of champagne glasses. There was a bar on the right-hand side. This led to another, larger room with a bar on the left. The second room opened up to the main part of the club, which consisted of a sunken dance floor about the size of half of a basketball court. The dance floor was surrounded by circular black leather couches which wrapped around black tables. Overhead, a number of white chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
The group continued up to the left and reached another roped-off area, again using the plastic dividers found at the airport. A medium-sized black man in a black suit stood behind the divider. Alexandra said something to him and he opened the divider and smiled, revealing a steady white set of teeth that glowed in the black light permeating the club. Alex recognized him and stepped up to say hello.
Alex: “Hey Randy, good to see you again.”
Randy: “All right, my man. Good evening. I am working security in this area so if there is anything at all you need, just let me know.”
Alex: “Thanks. I’m Alex, we have met a few times before. As always, we would be happy to hook you up if you introduce someone we may want to talk to.”
Randy: “Cool, man. Do you like blondes, brunettes or Asians?”
Alex: “Anything very high quality. Otherwise we are equal opportunity.”
> Randy (smiling): “Yeah. Yeah. Of course. You got it.”
Randy and Alexandra led the group past a few tables set against the wall and directed them into a mezzanine-level booth overlooking the center of the dance floor. Two semi-circular black leather couches surrounded a medium-sized black table, creating an oval-shaped sitting area. The benefits of this layout were several. Primarily, the space was distinguished from the main passageway of the VIP area, but only by the height of the couches. This meant it was easy to see everyone in the space and invite them in, but otherwise it was difficult for people to enter. Secondly, there was ample room to sit on the couches for conversation, or to stand in front of the balcony to dance or simply watch the action below.
Alex, who was getting sick of having to tip everyone himself, asked Gary if he could give Alexandra a twenty. Gary, happy to oblige, fished out his wallet and pulled out the bill to give to her. With that, Alexandra let them know that Yvonne, their server, would be with them shortly; then she left with Randy following.
Below, the dance floor was about half full, but the population seemed to be visibly intensifying. Roger and Alex sat on the left side of the booth and Mike and Gary sat on the right side. Alex lit another Dunhill and offered one to Roger. Roger shook his head and informed Alex that he was going to have a Kodiak instead but was dissuaded by Alex’s request that they attempt to appear to be somewhat classy for at least another hour or two. He accepted the cigarette and grabbed Alex’s out of his hand to use to light his own. Once it was lit, he put it in his mouth with his left hand and used his right to try and mess up Alex’s hair. Alex successfully fought off the attack and called Roger a sword-swallower, laughing as he said it and in very good spirits.
On the other side of the booth, Gary and Mike were also in a positive frame of mind. Mike grabbed the drink menu off of the table and perused it quickly, even though he knew in advance what they would be ordering. He noticed the prices were slightly higher than he remembered from the last time he was at the club just over a year or so ago. Bottles of Stolichnaya, which for no particular reason had always been the vodka of choice for the group, were $350 each. Mike noticed that Grey Goose was $425, and a bottle of Cristal champagne could be purchased for $600. Small type at the bottom of the menu informed the reader that a twenty percent service charge would be added automatically.
The music in the club was loud, but not such that you couldn’t have a full conversation with the people immediately around you. While Mike was looking at the menu the DJ seamlessly mixed Prince’s Raspberry Beret into AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long. Mike was satisfied with the music selection but was slightly annoyed that the songs seemed to switch after only about forty-five seconds each.
Mike: “I think the fucking DJ has ADD or something.”
Gary: “Yeah, but at least it isn’t all techno. I hate that shit.”
Mike: “Totally. Man, you know what, they are not shy here about charging for a cocktail.”
Gary: “How much are the bottles?”
Mike: “Stoli is $350 plus twenty percent.”
Gary: “Hmm, you aren’t kidding. Do you think we will go through two or three?”
Mike: “It depends how much we give away to bitches, but probably three given the way Alex and The Rodge drink.”
Gary: “Probably, yeah. Oh well, no one said Vegas was cheap. But I have to give it to Alex, he seems to do quite well at having a good time.”
Mike: “No doubt. Yeah, I am pretty fucking happy to be here also. It really is cool that we could all make it out together. We used to have a lot of good times out here, remember?”
Gary: “Yeah, it was a lot of fun, though we sure as hell were not blowing a grand on a few bottles of vodka back in those days.”
Mike: “Fuck no. I used to bring two hundy for the whole weekend. It was all about the five-dollar blackjack tables and cramming a bunch of guys into the cheapest hotel room we could find.”
Gary: “If we even got a room. Do you remember when I slept in the bathtub at the Imperial Palace?”
Mike: “Yep. I ended up sharing a bed with Fat Freddy that night.”
Gary: “Ouch. I am not sure which is worse. Good old Fat Freddy.”
Mike: “Was that the trip Alex hooked up with the jouster chick from the show at Excalibur?”
Gary: “I think so. Classic. Of all the showgirls, how do you end up with a jouster? At least she must be good with a pole. Yeah man, those were some good times. This is fun too, though. It is just crazy how things have changed.”
Mike: “Totally. We are getting old, dude.”
Gary: “Well, yeah, that, but I mean also the way the city is now. Anyway, it is good we have some cash now. I mean if you are in college now, coming to Vegas must be frustrating because you can’t really afford anything.”
Mike: “I think if you are still in college, you don’t even know what you are missing. Anyway, you would basically come to the same club but instead of sitting VIP you would still be waiting in that line outside.”
Gary: “God, that would suck.”
Mike: “Yep. Anyway, have you talked to Blair yet since we left?”
Gary: “Yeah, I called her while you were in the shower. I told her you are not really getting married but that it is kind of a long story and I would tell her about it when I get back. She didn’t sound too happy, but was generally okay. Basically, I am using a lot of political capital on this one, but it will blow over.”
Mike: “That’s good. I think your lady is pretty cool.”
Gary: “She is. I think we both realize you have to let the other person live their own life sometimes. We may not like what the other person wants to do on their own, but as long as they stay respectful of the relationship it should be okay.”
Mike: “Cool. It is hard to find a chick that is rational enough to think that way.”
Gary: “I know. Anyway, don’t get me wrong, I will still get a lot of hell for this, and she probably will use the money I spend as an excuse to either buy a new bag or not let me buy the steak knives I want.”
Mike (wondering why steak knives were so important): “Oh.”
Gary: “Anyway, enough about home. We’re in Vegas. How do I not have a drink yet?”
As if on cue, Yvonne arrived. She was nearly six feet tall, with long brown hair that went about halfway down her back. She had a very nice, thin, tanned body with a flat stomach that was largely visible between a black tied-up shirt and a black skirt. Her face was pretty, but in a Midwestern cute way, with pudgy cheeks that didn’t seem to fit her body. Though well suited for her figure, her rather small breasts seemed notable in their contrast with all of the silicone competition present. Nevertheless, she had a genuine smile and everyone immediately approved of her.
She sat on the couch next to Gary, who was on the outside of their section, and put her hand on his knee. Then, careful to make eye contact with everyone, she said, “Welcome to the club, gentlemen. My name is Yvonne and it is my job to make sure you all have a great time tonight. So, is anyone here planning to drink anything this evening?”
This got a laugh from everyone. Gary ordered two bottles of Stolichnaya vodka and asked for sides of cranberry juice, orange juice and soda water. Alex then asked her to also bring six sugar-free Red Bulls which Yvonne informed them would cost an extra six dollars each. Yvonne then asked who would be giving her a credit card to secure the tab. No one moved for a few moments, so Alex dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and handed Yvonne his Platinum American Express card.
Yvonne grabbed the card and stood up, flashing her smile again. “Thanks guys, I will be back in a minute,” she said, then spun around and disappeared. Instantly replacing her was a short Mexican man who brought over a large silver tray containing ten tumbler-sized plastic glasses, two medium-sized buckets of ice and one slightly larger bucket with a scooper in it. Within two minutes, a different Mexican man arrived with a tray containing six sugar-free Red Bulls and one large car
afe each of cranberry juice, orange juice and soda water. The carafes were placed on the table next to the glasses and the buckets of ice. The music changed from 2Pac’s California Love to Beyonce and Sean Paul’s Baby Boy. Yvonne returned carrying two opened bottles of Stolichnaya. She bent down in a fluid motion and jammed one of the bottles into one of the medium-sized buckets of ice. Then she sat down next to Alex, her legs set apart just enough to be sexy without ruining her elegant image. Without saying a word, she grabbed four glasses from the tray, set them upright, and filled them about two-thirds full with ice from the larger bucket. Once completed, she asked who wanted a drink. Roger spoke up first, requesting a vodka-cranberry, heavy on the vodka. Yvonne poured similar drinks for the other three and said cheers to everyone.
Once she was gone, Gary stood up and raised his glass toward the middle of the group. “Cheers, dudes,” he said. The other three stood and all clinked plastic glasses. Nothing else was said, so they began to drink. A thirty-four second version of Cowboy by Kid Rock provided the backdrop. Mike chose to finish his entire glass, so he reached for the now-two-thirds-full bottle of Stolichnaya and began to pour himself a new one.
The boys spent the next forty minutes mingling mostly with each other. One group of three ambitious, but not cute, girls forced their way into their area and sat down. Gary poured them drinks, light on vodka. Mike commented to Roger that “they are basically Fours”, and would feel somewhat guilty the next morning when he couldn’t remember if he had said it loud enough that they may have overheard. Alex found a way to escort them out of section before they could pour themselves a second round. Alone again, the guys alternated between sitting on the couch and standing against the rail over the dance floor, which was now completely packed. The first bottle was finished.
At half past midnight, a stunningly sexy blonde wearing a pink silk mini-dress which very well may have originally sold as lingerie strolled into the booth on unusually high-heeled black shoes. She immediately raised a long, creamy leg and lowered it between Alex’s legs, then sat down on his lap, though really it was more like only his right thigh. She swiveled so both her legs were between his, placing her left arm around his neck and pressing her large left breast against Alex’s right shoulder. She introduced herself as Mariah and asked if she could have a drink. Alex asked Roger, who was again sitting next to him, to do him a favor and fix her a nice cocktail. Roger complied.
Across the booth, Mike and Gary ended whatever conversation they were having and did little but stare at this new arrival into their little world. Mike leaned toward Gary and said, “Jumping Jesus, look at that.”
Gary: “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have our first Ten of the night.”
Mike: “She looks a bit slutty.”
Gary: “What is your point?”
Mike: “Yeah, I guess you are right. Alex is amazing. I don’t know how he does it.”
Gary: “Fuckin’ A.”
Mike: “I have to say, sometimes it pisses me off.”
Gary: “Jealousy is a female trait, my friend. Be happy for him.”
Mike: “Yeah, I guess so . . . But still. Wow, she is unbelievable.”
Gary: “Fuckin’ A.”
Meanwhile, Alex was getting to know Mariah.
Alex: “How did I get to be so lucky?”
Mariah (lifting one leg up to show her shoes, revealing the entirety of her upper thigh): “Well, my feet were getting tired in these shoes so I needed a place to sit down. Then I saw you and I just really wanted to sit on you.”
Alex: “Well, I want you to know I am quite particular about who I let sit on me, so you should feel honored.”
Mariah (looking directly at him with large blue eyes): “I do. I think I could sit on you all night if you wanted me to.”
Alex: “Don’t you think you might start to get a little heavy?”
Mariah: “Well, maybe we could switch and you could be on top for a while.”
Alex: “It might look funny to people if I was sitting on your lap.”
Mariah: “You’re silly. I like you.”
Alex: “You are silly too.”
Mariah: “You have a nice body, honey.”
Alex: “Thanks. I used to be in a Bow-Flex infomercial.”
Mariah: “You are an actor?”
Alex: “No, never mind. It was kind of a joke.”
Mariah: “So, what do you do for money?”
Alex: “I am a carpenter.”
Mariah: “Seriously?”
Alex: “Yeah, you know, just like the Big Guy.”
Mariah: “Who?”
Alex: “You know . . . Jesus.”
Mariah (touching his nose with her right index finger): “You’re silly.”
Alex: “No, I am just kidding, I work in finance.”
Mariah: “So are you some kind of agent?”
Alex: “Umm . . . Something like that.”
Mariah (nodding to the rest of the group with her head): “That’s really cool. And are these your buddies?”
Alex: “Yeah, these are my best friends, mostly from college. What about you, are you here alone?”
Mariah: “No, I am with you.”
Alex: “Good point.”
Mariah: “So, what plans do you and your buddies have for the rest of the night?”
Alex: “Nothing too defined. Party here for a while and then see what sounds good.”
Mariah: “Well, I have an idea for you. I am going to be at Spearmint Rhino later. You should definitely come see me.”
Alex: “You are working there?”
Mariah: “Yep. I will be there until five. I really hope you can join me.”
Alex (rapidly losing interest): “So you are a stripper?”
Mariah: “Yes, sweetheart.”
Alex (sitting up to raise her off of him): “Okay, I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”
Mariah stood up and straightened her outfit, then gave Alex a kiss on the cheek and waved to the other guys before walking toward the exit. Alex, who along with the rest of the group was now more than a little buzzed, noticed she entered one of the other booths across the walkway and sat on someone’s lap.
Gary: “What was that all about?”
Alex: “It turns out she is a stripper. She said she wants me to meet her at the club later, but I think she just comes here to get a few free drinks and try to get people who look like they can spend some money to go over and buy dances from her later.”
Gary: “Interesting strategy.”
Mike: “Which club?”
Alex: “The Rhino.”
Mike: “Maybe we should go there after this.”
Alex: “Nah, I have no desire to go to a strip club tonight, so whatever. But you are right, it probably is a good strategy. You can’t blame someone for doing some marketing.”
Gary: “Yeah, whatever. But damn, she was fucking hot.”
Alex: “No doubt about that. That’s one interesting thing about Vegas. It keeps getting better and better, but at the same time it is changing in a weird way.”
Gary: “How do you mean?”
Alex: “Well, just think about when we used to come out here. First of all, look around at what the chicks are wearing now. Also, think about it; I just had a stripper sit down in my lap in our booth at the club. That’s a bit strange, right? I don’t think it would have happened even a few years ago.”
Don’t Cha by the Pussycat Dolls began to play.
Alex (waving his hand around at nothing): “Here is another great example. Basically the Pussycat Dolls are the next generation of the Spice Girls, right? But the Spice Girls were kind of cute and nice while the Pussycat Dolls are simply in your face about sex and money.”
Gary: “I don’t know if that’s true. What did the Spice Girl’s song say? If you want to be my lover, you’ve got to get with my friends. I mean, that’s pretty hard core, don’t cha think?”
Alex: “I don’t think they literally meant you had to boff their friends before th
ey would sleep with you.”
Mike: “That is what it sounded like to me.”
Alex: “I don’t think so, dude.”
Everyone took a moment to contemplate this while listening to the song.
“See, I don’t care, but I don’t think she’s gonna want to share . . .
Oooohh. Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?”
Gary: “I liked that blonde Spice Girl.”
Roger (to Gary): “You are weird.”
Roger (to Alex): “So, the new chicks are hotter. Big deal. Why are you complaining about it?”
Because it was too loud for all four of them to hold a conversation together, Roger moved back to the railing overlooking the dance floor without waiting for an answer.
Alex: “I am not complaining about it, but it is interesting. Everything is more material now than it used to be. Everything centers on money and sex. I mean think about the fact that we are buying four-hundred-dollar bottles of vodka. For that, they send a hot girl over to serve it to us and then the chicks in the club know you have money so they want to drink with you.”
Gary: “I think they come to drink with us because they know we will give them free drinks, not because they necessarily want to fuck you.”
Mike: “Ninety-nine percent of girls are whores in one way or another. Don’t ever forget that.”
With that, Mike stepped away to the table to add a topper of vodka to his half-full drink and then joined Roger on the railing.
Gary: “Actually, this city is set up well for girls. They can pretty much drink for free off of chumps like us who are paying a fortune. Then, if they do want to go home with someone, they can pick whatever guy they want as long as they are decent looking themselves. Meanwhile, we are paying hundreds of dollars and will probably go home alone.”
Alex: “I thought you weren’t interested.”
Gary: “That isn’t what I meant. I am just trying to make a point.”
Alex: “Anyway, Chief, you aren’t going home alone because either Roger or I will likely be sharing a bed with you.”
Gary: “Oh yeah. Sweet, I almost forgot.”
Alex (laughing): “Anyway, you are starting to sound like Mike.”
Gary: “Yeah, maybe. Sorry.”
Alex: “My original point was just that society is becoming more materialistic than it was. Have you noticed almost every other table here bought Grey Goose? There is just no way a bottle of Grey Goose can be worth fifty dollars or whatever more than Stoli. I would argue it isn’t even as good at the same price, but aside from that, the only reason to buy it is to show that you are a baller and have money. People don’t even buy houses now based on where they want to live; they’ll choose one they think will appreciate more, or even just to flip. Also, look at shit like that Sweet Sixteen show on MTV. It’s fucking disgusting, but these kids are all about how much cash you have. I saw one where this high school chick had a VIP section at her own birthday party.”
Gary: “Yeah, I happened to see that one. Sarah likes that show. That was gross.”
Alex: “You let Sarah watch MTV?”
Gary: “Yeah, just not the dating shows like Next or Date My Mom. But even those she tries to TiVo.”
Alex: “Your three-year-old knows how to TiVo?”
Gary: “Yeah, they are smart little fuckers. You have to watch them all the time.”
Alex: “Also, basically every rap song is about how much money the person has and how many chicks he is nailing. Since there really isn’t any new rock music anymore, rap is now the main pop culture. I am the whitest guy around and ninety percent of the songs I download lately are rap or hip-hop.”
Gary: “I think rappers have always been singing about how much money they have and how many chicks they are nailing. Rock was basically the same thing if you really think about it.”
Alex: “It’s worse now. Maybe it’s all cyclical and this is what it was like in the eighties. Probably it will reverse again at some point, but I just feel everything is moving in a direction of the idea that money is the only important thing.”
Gary: “Kind of a scary idea when you have a small daughter.”
Alex: “Totally. It is something I have been thinking about a lot lately. In my mind I call it the Paris Hilton effect. Sometimes I think Paris fucked up society.”
Gary: “How’s that?”
Alex: “She is probably the biggest celebrity in America right now, right? But the thing is, she doesn’t actually do anything that adds any value. She isn’t a movie star. She isn’t an athlete. She isn’t really even a model. Basically she is the daughter of rich people with a recognizable last name who parties a lot. But she has become bigger than all those people who do something just by making herself synonymous with the image of glamour and money.”
Gary: “That’s hot!”
Alex: “Exactly.”
Gary: “Didn’t she just release an album?”
Alex: “Do you know anyone who bought it?”
Gary: “Good point. Well, she is sort of a movie star if you think about it.”
Alex (laughing quickly, then becoming serious again): “Okay, true. Even that supports the point though. She has become even more famous because it turns out she is something of a slut. But more than anything, she made it fashionable for money and sex to be what people respect and strive for above all else. The money itself is the only goal now, not how you get it.”
Gary: “I thought you always believed in the free market and that people should earn what they were worth based on the demand?”
Alex: “Yeah, I do. And this really confuses me. On one hand, I think she is the biggest genius there is. I mean, she gets millions of dollars just for partying and showing up at places. Basically she has turned herself into a brand. So I give her credit for that, and she deserves every penny she makes. But maybe we should question where our society is headed if this is what we idolize. Money is and should be great, but not just to show off how much you have. I think part of it is also due to all these new Russian billionaires who are so in your face about how much money they have. I think previous rich people used to be more discrete about it, at least from mainstream society. Anyway, I think it will continue to get worse until we have a major recession, but it doesn’t seem that will happen anytime soon.”
Gary: “I don’t believe that you, of all people, are worried that there is too much materialism. I thought you believed greed was the root of progress.”
Alex: “I still do. Maybe there just needs to be something else that goes along with it.”
Gary: “Maybe you are just getting drunk.”
Alex: “Maybe. I think we are going to need another bottle.”
When one o’clock arrived, each of the guys, high on a mixture of Red Bull, vodka, and nicotine and feeding from the energy of the club, found themselves armed with a strong sense of optimism and a high level of alertness.
At 1:05 am, Alex poured himself a new drink and informed the group that he was going to take a lap around the club. Roger decided to join, leaving Mike and Gary alone in the booth. With Roger and Alex gone, the space seemed awkwardly empty when compared to the packed surroundings of the rest of the club. Even the VIP area was now relatively full with people. Regardless, within a few minutes, Randy arrived with two girls and suggested to Mike and Gary that they may want to meet them.
The girls, both with medium-length blonde hair, looked to be around thirty years old, but were still attractive. Both wore designer jeans and expensive-looking shirts, in contrast to the more naked approach most of the younger girls in the club favored.
One sat next to Mike and the other stepped over Gary’s legs to sit on the other side of him, closer to where she could look down on the dance floor. Gary asked the girls what they wanted to drink. At their request, he poured each a vodka-cranberry with a splash of Red Bull, leaving about three inches of liquid remaining in the second bottle.
Mike, suddenly feeling a lot less cheap, waved Yvonne down and ordered a third bottle of Stolichnaya and three more Red Bulls.
Their inhibitions drowned by alcohol, each of the newly introduced couples rapidly engaged in conversation. It took Mike about three minutes to develop a crush on the one he was paired up with, Kristen. He found out from her that both of the girls were thirty-two, lived in LA, and were college friends from the University of Arizona. Kristen was a pharmaceutical sales representative and Ashley, her friend, was an elementary school teacher. They were in town for a quick girl’s weekend and were staying at the Venetian.
Mike recounted some of the humorous anecdotes from the drive out, though he swapped Roger into his own role for the outhouse story. He was pleased to get several laughs, especially from his imitation of the Jeff Kent cop, and he was impressed that Kristen knew who Jeff Kent was. She also seemed genuinely interested to hear about the house he was buying in Del Mar, which Mike greatly enjoyed talking about. Happy that Alex had instigated the trip, Mike took inventory of how drunk he was. He decided he could afford to down another few drinks but realized he needed to be a bit careful. He poured himself a rather weak version of what Kristen was drinking and also made her a new one.
Gary also took the opportunity to fix fresh drinks for Ashley and himself. Yvonne returned with a new bottle of Stolichnaya and a new bucket of ice. One of the Mexicans followed her and swapped out several of the dirty glasses for fresh ones and also brought a new carafe of cranberry juice.
Yvonne sat down briefly next to Gary and asked how everything was going. Mike and Gary assured her things were very well and she sensed her presence was not desired at the table at the moment so she got up to leave. Before she did, she looked down to the dance floor and said, “It looks like your buddies are having a good time also.”
Gary, Mike, Kristen and Ashley all leaned toward the balcony and surveyed the scene. The dance floor was generally packed, but it did not take long to find Alex in his yellow sweater. There was a bit of space around him and he was doing his monkey dance, bent over, supporting himself with one fist on the floor, and waving his ass around wildly. Though it could not be heard at this distance, the puckered shape of Alex’s lips suggested he was complementing the dance with “ooh-ooh, aah-aah” monkey noises. Behind him, an attractive girl in a green mini-dress was trying to rub against him, but was struggling to follow because his butt was moving about unpredictably. In front of him, Roger was engaging in an aggressive version of the white-man’s shuffle, pausing periodically to grind against a slightly overweight Asian girl who was obviously drunk. The Asian girl was so engaged with Roger that she appeared oblivious to Alex’s antics, which were the main attraction for everyone else within ten feet of them.
Gary turned towards Mike and Kristen with a large grin on his face. “I haven’t seen the monkey dance in years. Alex must be wasted,” he shouted across the booth. Then, he and Ashley repositioned themselves so they could more comfortably watch the action below.
The next time Gary looked at his watch, he couldn’t believe it was already 2:30 in the morning. It turned out he had a lot in common with Ashley, including being married and having a three-year-old daughter. Ashley also was concerned about getting her daughter into the best pre-school and how to pay for the twenty thousand or so in tuition once kindergarten and elementary school started. Her descriptions about the politics within the public school she taught at were genuinely interesting to Gary who was still a believer in public schools over private. Additionally, Ashley’s husband was also a lawyer so she understood the demands of his job.
Gary realized it was the first time he had had a decent conversation alone with a woman other than his wife in over a year and probably the first time he had spent this much time alone with another woman while drinking since his wedding. He was bemused to realize he genuinely liked this person he just met in a club in Vegas, of all places. He had no ambitions of cheating on Blair when he learned he was going to Vegas, and now he found himself wondering if he wanted to now. Ashley had not given any direct signs she would be interested, but she was very flirtatious and demonstrated several of what Alex annoyingly and repeatedly referred to as “Indications of Interest.” Clearly there was some connection. Perhaps because of the alcohol, he also began to see her as sexier than when she first arrived. It seemed her shirt had been repositioned to reveal more of the top of her breasts than before.
It took about ten minutes after the idea first came into his mind for Gary to realize that as much as he liked this new woman, and as much as he was physically attracted to her, he did not want to sleep with her and had absolutely no interest in attempting any kind of actual relationship. Still involved in their conversation, and still very much enjoying it, Gary did not have time to think much about his realization, but somewhere he registered an initial feeling of disappointment and regret. Happily, it was fleeting and quickly began morphing into something like relief, but closer to satisfaction or pleasure.
It felt good not just to think, but to know, that he was secure in his marriage and still valued it as much or more than ever.
The notion was reinforced when he took a break from the conversation to check out the group at the table next to them. While the other table had been occupied since just after midnight, Gary had not even made the effort to acknowledge them until now. It consisted of two rather ugly-looking Persian men in their mid-thirties and six attractive white girls in their early twenties. On the table were the remnants of one bottle of Grey Goose and four bottles of Cristal. Three of the girls were sitting by the guys and looked utterly bored. The other three were dancing against the railing and were, seemingly, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Somehow in Gary’s mind it all looked quite pathetic.
He wondered, given the miscommunications of the weekend, what the chances were of Blair still allowing him to buy the steak knives he had his eye on. He had a feeling there was a new Gucci bag in her future. But, despite these petty desires, he knew he had something beautiful and something real and felt good about it. He refilled his glass with ice and poured two ounces of Stolichnaya into it, his eyes happily lingering on the ass of one of the dancing girls in the next booth.
Out on the dance floor there was no longer any sign of Alex or Roger. Gary excused himself from Ashley for a moment and repositioned himself to the other side of the booth next to Mike. He put his arm around Mike and said hello again to Kristen.
Gary: “How is it going over here?”
Mike: “Great. She is super-cool. How about you?”
Gary: “Really good, man. I am having a lot of fun. It is a bummer for you that these two are married.”
Mike: “What are you talking about?”
Gary: “Check the rings, dude. You didn’t notice?”
Mike quickly turned his head back toward Kristen and checked out her left hand which was holding a plastic glass filled with vodka and cranberry juice. She started to talk to Ashley who had moved to her other side.
Mike: “Holy shit-show! You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Gary: “You didn’t realize it?”
Mike: “No. I guess I didn’t even think to look. Unfuckingbelievable. I really thought I was getting somewhere.”
Gary: “Sorry, dude.”
Mike turned back toward the girls: “So Kristen, how long have you been married?” he asked loudly.
Kristen: “Um . . . I guess it has been about four years.”
There was a brief silence filled only by the loudness of the club and Milkshake by Kelis. Then Mike said that he needed to use the bathroom and stood and left the booth. Kristen and Ashley conferred for a minute while Gary sat awkwardly. Then Ashley let Gary know that they needed to get going and told him she had really enjoyed meeting him. He stood and gave her a hug and she kissed his cheek. Then they were gone. He sat again, now alone. Unsure what to do and surprised with the sudden turn the night had taken, he reached to the table and stole a Dunhill out of the pack Alex
had left there. He checked his watch, lit the cigarette, and then checked on the Persian’s table where Yvonne was bringing yet another bottle of Cristal. It was quickly consumed by the girls who clearly were in no shape to tell the difference between quality French champagne and Martinelli’s sparkling apple cider. Gary laughed to himself, took a drag, sat back, exhaled and crossed his legs contentedly. A smile lingered on his face.
It turned out he was not alone long. By the time he finished his smoke, Alex and Roger came bouncing into the booth, both dancing along to Duran Duran’s Reflex. Gary’s smile widened as it was clear his two buddies were quite drunk and it appeared likely that Alex, who immediately began eyeing the girls in the Persian’s booth, might break into some of his robot moves at any moment. Instead he sat next to Gary, reached to the table for one of his Dunhills, lit it, and put his arm around Gary.
Alex: “Where is Mr. Happy Face?”
Gary: “He got a bit bent out of shape when he realized the girl he was ramping all night is married.”
Alex: “Ah, bummer. I hate it when that happens. Where did he go?”
Gary: “He said to the bathroom but he went the wrong way. Where were you two?”
Alex: “At another table on the other side. Funny story. I will tell you later.”
Roger leaned in, slurring his words heavily: “Alex was ramping the super hot blonde in the green dress and I was getting sloppy with some Asian chick.”
Gary: “Yeah, I noticed that. I think the whole club did. So where are they? Do you want to bring them over here?”
Alex: “Nah, it is not important. I’d rather hang with you for the rest of the night.”
Gary: “Another bottle of booze?”
Alex: “No. Fuck it, dudes. Let’s go roll some dice.”
