Warning: contains some swearing.
Disclaimer: I still own some postcards featuring Criss Angel from when I last went to Las Vegas and not much else here.
A/N: posted today in order to commemorate both alimosebyand mirthfulwoman's birthdays! Hope you had a great time.
A Very Human Vegas
Part 1
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It had been a hard year to cope with so far. The regret she had immediately felt at turning down the Doctor had been put on hold while she dealt with her father's death; and she had spent the vast majority of the time since trawling the internet or physically investigating any strange sightings.
To be honest, she needed the money when the employment agency phoned her with a new job placement. Personal finances meant that she had to answer the call when it rang, but the perfect timing and coincidence of the latest location stunned her to her very core.
"Pardon. Where did you say?" Donna Noble sought to confirm what she thought she had just heard the woman from the temping agency tell her. Logic told her she must have misheard.
On the other end of the telephone line, Angela Mulligan at the local branch of the Alfred Marks Bureau slowly repeated the location. "Las Vegas, Nevada, in the United States of America. They seem very keen to get you. I have in my hand all the flight details and a work visa for you to arrive the day after tomorrow. I'm sending you it through right this second."
Milliseconds later an email popped up in Donna's computer inbox, proclaiming all sorts of things. Scanning it quickly, she couldn't help wondering, "What if this isn't legit and they are slave traders?"
"It all checks out," Angela assured her. "A three-month contract to start with the possibility of more should it work out well."
Still flabbergasted, Donna thanked her, and returned her attention to the details in the email. The company hiring her was called T & R Dimensions, and they wanted her to be a PA to a stage entertainer. It was certainly something very different to what she was used to, but it all still boiled down to the same basics principles. Shouldn't be too difficult to cope with. Apart from the heat. The average daily temperature was at least twelve degrees more than she was used to, but places there had air conditioning. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
And who knew, she might end up meeting a rich man who was keen to waste millions of dollars on her? It had happened to other women. Other, younger and better-looking women, a tiny voice pointed out; but she didn't let that burst her excited bubble. She was going to Las Vegas! And life didn't get better than that.
A wall of heat hit Donna as she stepped out of the air-conditioned airport. Not even noon yet and it was baking hot. She quickly prayed that she would learn how to tan sufficiently before she went home otherwise she was in for weeks of sunburn at this rate.
The queue at the taxi rank wasn't too long, considering, and she was soon on her way, chatting with the driver about what it was like to work on the peripheries of The Strip.
Stay out of trouble, seemed to be the basic advice. And she was sure she was given the scenic route to the hotel because it hadn't looked that far from the airport on the map. Never mind. You only get to see a place with fresh eyes the one time. And the whole city seemed like an adult themed Disneyland from what she could tell.
The biggest problem she could foresee was adjusting her body clock to deal with the rampant time zone difference, unless she worked nights. Might be a possibility if she asked nicely.
The Hiddleston Hotel was a newly reconditioned, London themed hotel, with a recreated Trafalgar Square and everything you stereotypical crammed into a small space. The receptionist pointed Donna towards the back of the hotel where the theatre lay.
"They're rehearsing so just go in and introduce yourself," she was told.
Walking into the semi-gloom, Donna noted that it looked like a cross between a London theatre Edwardian theatre and a Butlins holiday camp ballroom. As long as she wasn't expected to get up and perform she was fine with it.
It wasn't hard to notice the only other person present. Sitting in one of the front seats looking utterly bored out of her cranium was a beautiful woman who couldn't have been older than her mid-twenties.
This was it, show time, Donna told herself as she moved forward to introduce herself. "Hello. I'm Donna. I believe you were expecting me."
The woman instantly leapt up out of her seat in sheer delight. "Donna! Thank goodness you came. I'm Martha. Martha Jones and I've been trying to be Peter's PA until now."
"Been having problems?"" Donna knowingly asked and chided herself for being relieved the woman had a London accent. She laughed when Martha nodded. "How long have you been here?"
"Not long." Martha admitted, "Just a couple of days but already I'm swamped by it."
"Never mind. Supertemp is here," Donna joked, pointing at herself. "Shall we meet everyone else?"
"Oh yes," Martha agreed, remembering her manners. "Peter is still choosing his assistants. He was back here a minute ago."
She led the way and drew back part of the stage curtain. Behind it, they found a tall, thin, middle-aged man covered in black with most of his features hidden by his long black hair and facial hair. The un-Laughing Cavalier, Donna instantly thought as she viewed him. He was leaning with one hand against the scenery, trapping a young girl somewhere in her late teens. Apprehension mixed with excitement flashed across the girl's face.
"There you are, Martha," the man casually declared in a London accent. He was totally unfazed at being caught in his flirtatious act. "Mandi here has agreed to join us."
"Then I'll make sure Brandi is added to the list," Martha gently corrected. "If you'd come with me to costume, Brandi." Two steps away, Martha briefly halted and informed him, "Almost forgot to tell you, Peter. Your temp PA from London has arrived. Meet Donna."
Left on their own to finish the introductions, Donna didn't know whether to shake his hand or slap him for being such an obvious sexist pig. Instead, she nodded. "Hello. I'm Donna Noble."
"Donna!" he joyfully exclaimed. "Good to meet you."
Then to her horror, he grabbed her into a bone crushing hug.
"Hands!" she yelped as she felt his palms land on her bottom. For good measure, she added a whack to his forearms.
"Alright. No need to get physical," he grouched. "I get the picture. No touching." He then grinned disarmingly at her. "I'm your boss: Peter Vincent."
"Good. I'm glad we've got that sorted out. I'm here to do a job, not get touched up. How old was that girl, by the way?"
"What, Mandi?" he queried with a faint point in the direction she'd gone.
"Yes, Brandi," Donna corrected.
"Oh, old enough," he nonchalantly answered.
So Donna glared at him. "She's a child, barely old enough to wipe her own bum. So I'll be watching you, mister."
"This is Las Vegas, not London, so anything goes."
"From what I've seen, the ethos of this hotel is British. London in particular so I don't care what child abuse-allowing laws exist here. I will not tolerate such behaviour. Understood?"
Now blazing with anger, Peter retorted, "Yes Mum. Who the fuck do you think you are, coming in here, telling me how to behave?"
"I'm the PA you just had especially flown out from Heathrow to get your act together," she countered.
Conceding she had a valid point, he bit back, "Fine! But don't expect me to become a fucking monk while we're here."
"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied. "As long as you pick someone legal without exploiting her, we'll get on like a house on fire."
"There'll be fucking fireworks; I can see that happening," he mumbled to himself. "Come on then, Donna Noble, eminent PA of this parish. I'll show you where the office and everything is. No doubt you'll want to spin your spider's web up there and snare some other poor sod."
"Couldn't have put it better myself," she irritatingly agreed just to rile him further. It was best that she put her foot down with him as soon as possible otherwise she'd be up to her ears with grieving teens and their mothers, all wanting revenge.
Soon her mood brightened when they entered her assigned office space and later viewed her accommodation. All of it was modern, well equipped and a dream location. As for her boss, Peter was a bit of an untamed piglet, but she felt that she could soon train him into being a decent human being. Yes, she could definitely count her blessings.
Two weeks later, Donna was not quite so sure she was blessed any more.
Looking out of her tinted bedroom window, she could see the airport in the distance, and the numerous planes either taking off or landing. It was a constant reminder how transient this location was. For that reason, she was determined to make the most of this three-month position.
When she had first arrived there, the sight of the hotel across the road had made her gasp in wonder. The whole thing was based on a pyramid and brought to mind her recent trip to Egypt on her not-honeymoon. It would have been better if she could have found someone to share it all with her but alas none of her friends could get the necessary time off or could afford it. At least here, in Las Vegas, the people could speak English and you didn't have the sneaky feeling they were trying to rip you off. No, all of that was saved for when you went into the gambling casinos.
Anyway. Her accommodation was nice, and she was sharing with another Brit: Martha. Donna soon found out that Martha Jones had been previously studying to become a doctor. A major step-down working for some magician as his gofer, first aider, and health and safety consultant.
To be honest, Donna suspected there was more to it than that. Okay, she knew it was. For one thing, Martha fluttered around their employer, Peter Vincent, as though he was a god; which he certainly was not.
The thought of him made her sigh in exasperation. The git!
Some men are subtle, sneaking around chasing any young girls, but he was blatant about it. It was as though he was addicted to flirting. She was sure other more intimate stuff was going on too. But strangely enough, he steered well clear of Martha apart from when he wanted to abuse her caring good nature in some way or other.
The hardest part about all this was Peter himself. He was handsome and very charming, as well as the growling talented perfectionist of the type she was used to working with, and actually had a strong preference for. You always knew where you stood and what the business goals were with such people. If he had merely gone through life cruising on his looks, she could have ignored it all and got on with her job. Her remarkably easy and enjoyable job. But his attitude irked her because of his looks. In short, if he wiped off the manscara, guyliner and black nail varnish he'd be the spitting image of the Doctor.
Of course, she'd tried to subtly ask Peter if he had any scientific relatives still living in the UK and gained a very frosty response that had unnerved her for some moments. His parents were dead, and there was no one else. End of, he had proclaimed.
"Take no notice of him. He's very touchy about his late family," Martha had consoled her when Peter stormed away in disgust. "It's one of the things he won't discuss."
Unfortunately, Donna had then taken that as a personal challenge. Not that he knew that. It was better that way. But she was aware when a soul was hurting, and Peter Vincent was an open book of hurt. If it took her the whole three months, she was determined to help him cope a little bit better. It was her forte, after all.
And the more she thought about it, the more it became obvious why Peter behaved in the cavalier way that he did. It was all a charade used as a coping mechanism. She could spot those a mile off. Everything about his appearance was intended to push away normal people; people who might want to love and cherish him. His style was intended to attract shallow fly-by-nights. From his tattoos, his facial hair, long leather coat, close-fitting trousers and down to his smarmy persona, everything was a mask; or an elaborate gilded cage, depending on how you wanted to view it.
As she had suspected, the more she tried to get him to trust her, the more he deliberately antagonised her in return.
"Ginger! Where are you, you silly cow?!" he yelled out, standing on the main stage of the hotel with a pile of papers in his hands.
If he wanted a slanging match she was more than willing to provide it. "Am I supposed to think you mean me, by any chance?" she loudly replied in the gloom. She walked forward into the footlights in order to be seen. "If it is, the name's Donna."
"Ah, there you are," he stated with some exasperation. "These forms needed to be filled in and submitted by today. Why the fuck haven't they been?"
She slowly placed her stiletto heel on the wooden steps that led up to him. "Stop climbing out of your pram," she chided, completely unfazed by his intimidating act. "What on Earth makes you think they haven't been?"
"Why?" he spat, shaking the papers in his hand in front of her eyes. "Why the fuck you think?! They were sitting on your desk doing sod all!"
"If you look at those papers," she carefully enunciated, "you'll find they are the ones from last year. The relevant ones for this year are currently sitting exactly where they should be, in County Hall."
All his fire diminished. "These are the wrong fucking ones?"
She nodded her head, trying not to be too smug about it.
"Oh," he murmured. "Then why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner?" he blazed.
Typical, she thought. He still had to goad her with something. "Perhaps you were too busy being an arse about it during the five seconds I've been here," she wondered with a shrug. "Who knows? Anyway, I'll get back to my desk, if that's alright with you, and sort out that rope supplier."
"Yes, that's fine." He glared at her.
"Okay. See you later. I'm making a pot of tea in a mo if you fancy one," she offered as she turned to leave. "Play nicely and I'll even rustle up a biscuit to go with it."
He tried to hide the beam of delight that lit up his eyes. "I might be in soon."
Yeah, Donna thought as she walked away, I bet you will.
