An Awkward Serenade
"It's her last night in the Mojave, and she's spending it at the Tops," the one-eyed man said.
"So what do you want me to do about it?" the mustachioed drifter replied, shifting in his seat. He looked at the clock on the wall beside him. 5:45.
"I saw the song you wrote about her. You'd better sing it."
"How'd you get into my stuff?"
"I'm your manager, it's my job." Tommy Torini paced in front of the drifter, smoking a cigarette. He felt the curtain beside him and sighed. "Seriously, I don't want you to let her get away."
"And what makes you so interested?" the drifter asked, laying his guitar over his lap.
"I'm a romantic a'sorts, all right?"
"And the publicity," the drifter said wryly.
"Well, yeah! Imagine the headlines, 'Courier Six seduced at the Aces - Public goes wild!'" Tommy said, looking up to the ceiling reverently. "Just think!"
"My feelings aren't part of the act."
"Bullshit, your songs get half the customers crying into their drinks."
"You have yourself a point," the drifter admitted. He looked up at the clock again. "Is she even gonna come to the show?"
"She always catches you when she's got the time, you know that."
"Doesn't mean she'll do it for her last night. She might just decide to gamble herself an extra month of supplies."
Tommy sighed, looking down at the drifter. "Of course she'll come. Will you do it or not?"
The drifter looked at his guitar, then down to the ground at his case, where lyrics and music sat. The one on top was labeled "New Vegas Valley". He put a hand on his chin and considered for a moment, then looked back up at his manager. "All right. I'll do it."
"You're the best, Lonesome."
"I have a name."
"Yeah, but real names are boring. Show's on in five, get yourself ready." Tommy left the backstage area to the man known as the Lonesome Drifter, who looked up to the clock and slowly counted off the seconds in his head, shaking in his boots.
Leather boots scuffed along the hardwood floor of the Aces theater as the woman known as Courier Six walked in, surveying her surroundings. Her head turned this way and that, eyes obscured by blackout aviators scanning the room for a clear spot. When she stopped and looked at a table of desert-camouflaged soldiers, they immediately looked to her, sat straight up, and saluted. They quickly vacated their seats. Courier Six tipped the black desperado hat on her head and took their table, stretching her legs across two chairs. She opened the brown trenchcoat she wore over her black armor, pulling a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket. A bartender quickly came and put a whiskey on the table before her, which she set aside in order to light a cigarette. Once lit and secure in her mouth, she took the massive anti-materiel rifle from her back and laid it on the table. She pulled a rag from her pocket and began to clean the huge firearm.
She looked at the clock above the stage. 5:59. Perfect.
The curtain lifted, and the Lonesome Drifter stood up, took his guitar and sheet music to the front of the stage, and sat down on a lonely stool. Six took a drag, the Drifter cleared his throat.
"This one goes out to a very special woman, who has changed all of our lives over the past few months," the Drifter announced. Six smirked, and a few scattered claps came from the audience. The Drifter took a deep breath, and began to strum his guitar. Then, he started to sing.
"From this wasteland they say you are going.
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile,
For they say you are taking the sunshine
that has brightened our world for a while."
Six looked up from her cleaning, cigarette idly burning. Looking down at his instrument, the Drifter straightened up a little.
"So come sit by my side, if you love me.
Do not hasten to bid me adieu.
Just remember the New Vegas valley,
and the drifter that loved you so true."
Six ground out her cigarette in the table's ashtray, then looked up, folding her sunglasses and putting them in an inside pocket. Her pale blue eyes met the Drifter's, and he now looked directly at the subject of his serenade.
"For a long time, my darling, I've waited
for the sweet words you never would say.
Now at last all my fond hopes have vanished,
for they say that you're going away."
Six's smile was wide, yet something looked off to the Drifter. Her eyebrows were lifted, and her eyes seemed to carry a deep pity. A woman in a brown suede jacket and rattan cowboy hat entered the room, and the Courier moved her legs to allow her to sit. The jacketed woman leaned over to whisper in Six's ear, but she quickly shushed her companion.
"So come sit at my side, if you love me," the Drifter sang - and the Courier began to stand.
"Do not hasten to bid me adieu."
She approached the stage.
"Just remember the New Vegas valley..."
She reached one of the twin stairs leading to the Drifter's place of performance.
"And the drifter that loved you so true."
Amid applause, the Courier walked on stage and pulled the Drifter to his feet. He grinned giddily, glad to be hand-in-hand with the woman of his dreams. As he stood, he asked, "So, you interested in becoming Mrs. Lonesome Drifter?" But her smile was still sad, and the Drifter's expression suddenly fell. He felt a heartbreak in the works.
"Only if you've got a sister," Six replied.
The drifter looked confused, so the Courier's companion felt a need to speak.
"She likes girls, you dumb fuck!" she called from the back.
There was an outbreak of nervous laughter. Courier turned her head to look at the cowgirl, snapping "Cass!"
"What? You weren't going fast enough," Cass explained.
"You are so tactless," the Courier sighed, turning back to her would-be seducer. He let go of her hand and took a step back.
"Oh. Sorry," he mumbled, looking at the floor.
"No, don't be, that was the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me," Six replied, lifting his chin up. "I've never gotten my very own serenade before."
"Well, at least you'll remember me, if only for causing the most awkward moment of your life," the Drifter said sheepishly.
"Actually, that honor belongs to Cass," the Courier said, putting a hand on her hip and glancing at the cowgirl.
"That was the one time, swear to God," Cass said, putting her hands up in defense.
"I can still never sleep in my bed again."
The crowd laughed, and the Drifter realized she was trying to pin the pressure on someone else, to save him embarrassment. Oh, God, how he loved her. "Well, I guess I've still got a full show to do," he said, taking a seat again. "You sticking around?"
"Hold on a minute, who said you can't get a little something for that gesture?" The Courier leaned down and planted a kiss on the Drifter's forehead. As blood rose in his face, she turned back to the cowgirl, beckoning her over. "And who says you still have to do a show after that awkward moment?"
"What do you want me to do?" Cass asked, though she was already getting up.
"Show this man a good time, will you?" the Courier asked. The crowd laughed again, and the Drifter took a closer look at Cass as she approached the stage. She wasn't bad, not bad at all, now that he thought about it - pretty red hair, big blue eyes, and a raunchy disposition.
"Hey, you're not my pimp," Cass said accusingly - yet she still approached the stage. Another good laugh from the crowd.
"You willing?" Six asked the Drifter.
"She is quite...nice," the Drifter admitted. Someone whooped.
"Oh hell, why not? Been in a bit of a dry spell anyway," Cass said, leaping up onto the stage and grabbing the Drifter's hand. "Your dressing room?" she asked, to a holler from the audience.
Tommy suddenly stepped up on stage. "Woah, woah, guys, control your hormones!" he cried. "I gotta have a show runnin' for another hour!"
"Well, bring out the ghoul!" one of the soldiers the Courier had disturbed earlier called out. They started their own chorus of "Ghoul! Ghoul! Ghoul! Ghoul!"
"I got stuff to say about this!" a raspy voice called from backstage. "This is prime material!"
"Get on up here, Hadrian!" Tommy shouted. "Lonesome, you're excused."
"Damn straight, he is," Cass confirmed, pulling the Drifter through a door backstage. He didn't bother to protest. The Courier tipped her hat to the crowd, earning herself a round of applause and cheers. She leapt down from the stage, grabbing her rifle and slinging it across her back. She turned again to the crowd.
"Don't any of you worry!" she called. "I'll be back from Arizona before you know it! The Legion can't be that big, can it?" Laughter, applause from the audience.
"She's dead! Everybody, we're holding the funeral now!" a man with very bad skin called out as he stepped to the front of the stage.
"Do what you want, Hadrian - bet you a thousand caps I'm back here in six months or less."
"Hey, how am I getting my end of the bargain if you bite it?" the ghoul inquired.
"It's going straight to my will," the Courier replied, taking her sunglasses from her pocket. "'Course, I'm sure with your vast earnings, it'll just be pocket change." She put on the glasses and turned to leave.
"Damn straight it will be, Six!"
"See you in six months!" Six proclaimed as she left, followed by thunderous applause.