Loki stood in the middle of the only room of his so-called apartment, examining the fishbowl on the short dresser while he picked through a carton of cold lo mein. He'd managed to make it last two days, which really only meant he'd spent the last two days pretending he wasn't hungry, and now he was pretending it wasn't cold, since he didn't have a microwave. He knew he should not have bought the fish bowl, but there it was. A 40,000kr investment that represented every poor decision he'd ever made. If he bombed his callback, he'd have just enough money to make it back to Reykjavík, and not a króna more.
He sat down on the itchy sofa and ignored the fact that he hadn't thought any of this through. He needed a miracle at this point. Maybe if he didn't get the job, he could just wander out to the desert and feed the vultures. It would probably be less painful than going back home to face his father.
With a sigh, he looked down at the remains of his dinner. It was mostly carrots and cabbage at this point. Loki hated cabbage. He didn't trust it. It remained far too green, even after being cooked to rubber. He quickly ate it anyway, trying to get it down without tasting it in the name of not wasting the money. Dropping the Styrofoam container to the ground by the window, Loki leaned over and tried to lie down on the sofa. It wasn't very easy though, being it was only about four feet long and lacked arm rests, and he was six feet and change. The sofa pulled out in a mockery of sofa beds, making it a completely useless oversized Ottoman at its full size, but Loki hadn't even bothered.
Maybe bombing the audition would almost be worth it. Then he'd at least have an excuse to go back home and sleep in a real bed. With an annoyed huff, he threw the pillow he had to purchase from the drugstore out from under him and rolled onto the floor after it. The neighbours below probably weren't too happy with the ceiling sounding like it was going to collapse on them, but knowing he'd probably made them that much more miserable almost lightened his mood. Reaching up the wall with one long arm, he managed to flip off the light and plunge the room into partial darkness; the bright lamp right above his window outside made sure it was never actually dark enough to get any real sleep, and it was in cahoots with the constant stream of police sirens that blared down the street after 10pm.
Loki wasn't sure when he managed to finally fall asleep, but he woke bright and early to an obnoxious, piercing sound coming from his phone. Grumbling angrily at it, he pulled himself up off the floor and fished about the sofa for his phone. Finally finding it, he jabbed the home button to turn off the alarm and slunk off to the absurdly big closet to find his suit. An hour later, he was showered and dressed, with his hair pulled back into a neat tail and his pockets stuffed full of coins, cards, and silk scarves. He once again loaded his footlocker into the back of the taxi, this time also bringing a second smaller one into the back seat with him. With the drive to the casino being so short, he didn't think there would be too great a danger of spilling fish water everywhere, but just in case, he didn't want the poor creatures in the boot. If they died before he got to the casino, he'd really be screwed.
He directed the taxi to the entrance near the theatre, and even managed to get help bringing his gear inside. There were only three other hopefuls there, once again all dressed in their street clothes and ugly trainers. Loki studied the competition as he set up in the green room, recognising one of the young men from before. This time, he had a new assistant, rather than the girl he'd been hastily teaching the routine to. She seemed disinterested in the audition, poking at her phone like she was waiting for a dental appointment.
He poured several jugs of water into the fishbowl, made sure none of his fish had died during the trip, and waited to be called.
As it happened, the bowl wasn't exactly like the one he already had; a fault he hadn't discovered until after he'd purchased it and got it back to his apartment. It was close enough that most of his routine could go unchanged, but different enough that a good chunk of it had to go, which severely affected his patter. At the point where he ordinarily turned coins into fish, he found himself stalling, momentarily forgetting the changes to the routine.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't fit an assistant into my luggage, and it's making me confused," he said to the judging panel — the same four people as last time.
A few of them chuckled as he regained his rhythm. He tipped the bowl over the second tank he'd brought out, pouring the water and fish out. The fish swam around the new tank in a disorientated, orange spiral while the coins stayed in the bowl, hidden only by the distortion of the glass and the way Loki held his hand to support the bowl's weight. The panel audibly gasped at the effect, but Loki held back his reaction to it. He tipped the bowl just enough to make it seem as if there was nothing left to tip out, moving slowly to keep the coins from scraping against the sides too loudly. He could hear the clink of metal against glass, and just hoped that it wasn't loud enough to be heard in the audience. After carefully putting the bowl back onto its stand, Loki bowed to his audience.
"Thank you," he said.
"Thank you," Fischer said. "Uh, before you go, quick question. Who was it I spoke to on the phone? Was that your manager? The English guy."
Loki smiled as. "No, that was me," he said, switching accents effortlessly and going back to his more comfortable English voice. "I've spent so much time pretending to be English that I find I have to force myself to sound like an Icelander."
Fischer and his colleagues all laughed again. "All right," said Fischer. "Thank you, again. We'll call you to let you know."
Loki nodded and gathered up his smaller props, while the security guard came out to help move the fish tank off. Loki knew what 'we'll call you' meant. It meant they were going with someone else, and that he was broke, and stuck in a foreign country with terrible weather. Resigning himself to a future of ridicule and disapproval, Loki started packing up his gear, making sure nothing spilled on the floor.
"Do you want some fish?" he asked the security guard.
The security guard laughed. "No, sorry. Take them to the pet shop?"
Loki looked down at all the goldfish swimming dejectedly in the tank. "They don't take returns," he said.
There was a storm channel that ran under the car park outside his apartment. Maybe he could hop the fence and pour the fish in there. Right before he took a cab down to the recommended magic shop and attempted to sell the fish bowl at a loss, and then used the money to buy a plane ticket the hell out of Las Vegas.
"Want help getting this out to your car?" the security guard asked.
Loki looked at the two footlockers and all the stuff he still had to cram into them. "I have to call the cab, and it's all fragile," he said.
The security guard nodded. "All right. Good luck. Hope you get the job."
Loki nodded back. "Thanks," he said, already fairly certain it was going to go to the boy with the boxless box jumper routine. Hopefully, the boy would manage to find some proper trousers when he actually went on stage before an audience. He hated magicians that made the rest of them look ridiculous. It was a ridiculous career choice to begin with, and Loki knew it, and the ones who went out of their way to prove to the world they were all a bunch of massive dorks weren't making it any easier.
With everything carefully put away, Loki phoned for a taxi and sat down to wait. The helpful woman on the phone told him that it could be about a twenty minute wait, so he took one of the chairs and propped up the door to the car park, so he would wait inside but still see anyone pulling up for him.
Forty-five minutes later, he phoned the company again.
"I'm sorry, sir. It may be another twenty minutes before we can get someone out to you."
Loki glowered at the wall in front of him. "Is there nothing you can do?" he asked, not really sure how to bribe someone over the phone.
"I'm sorry sir. We're very busy," the not-so-helpful woman said.
"Fine." Loki jammed his thumb against the screen, which wasn't nearly as satisfying as slamming a phone down, or even snapping an old flip-phone shut. He stared out at the dusty car park, watching sickly-looking palm trees sway in the hot breeze. A small team of people were working on the landscaping, planting small little gardens around the lamp posts in the car park, while someone else was spraying down the tarmac in the far corner before finishing painting the lines. Loki was fairly certain that one of the landscapers was actually painting the grass green, which had to be just about the worst thing he'd ever witnessed.
Loki watched them work, wondering what past-life sins they were atoning for to have wound up working in the hot sun all day. Perhaps the same sins he was atoning for by getting stranded in some godforsaken sandbox. Loki checked his phone again, wondering if he should try to find another cab company. Surely in a city as big as Las Vegas, there were bound to be a great many unreliable cab companies to choose from. As he tapped at the screen and tried to make sense of the browser, he heard footsteps and voices coming his way.
"Green room lights are still on," Fischer said, presumably to his colleagues.
Loki rolled his eyes, prepared to get kicked out. Sure enough, Fischer walked into the green room and stopped in his steps when he saw Loki slouched in one of the chairs.
"Oh," Fischer said, obviously startled. "You, uh..."
Loki shook his head and shrugged. "Do you know any taxi services besides Henderson? I think I've pissed them off already," Loki said.
Fischer shrugged and seemed to think on that. "You could try Desert. I've never used them, though."
Loki nodded and started punching the name of the new company into his phone. "I suppose you probably want me to wait outside so you can lock up," he said. He started to get up, not looking forward to stinking up his his foot locker with baking goldfish. He looked at them in their little tank, not sure if they were already starting to look a bit deathy, or if he was imagining it.
Fischer's eyes were on the tank as well. He gave it a quizzical look and shook his head.
"You know, why don't you come back with me, instead. Save us the phone call." Fischer nodded back toward the door to the corridor.
Not entirely sure what to expect, Loki pulled the chair out from the door to the car park and followed after Fischer. Construction progress was going quickly, with new carpets laid in the corridor; a garish green and blue Art Deco palm frond pattern. Loki hated it. The wallpapering was similarly pseudo-tropical in design, though fortunately in far more subdued colours. Loki still hated it.
"So you came out here all the way from Iceland?" Fischer asked.
"I did," said Loki, not bothering to put on any accent for Fischer. He wondered where this conversation was going, and if he was going to yet again be asked his opinion of the weather.
"I found some of your videos on YouTube. The fish act seemed different online. Longer, I think," said Fischer. He led Loki into an office that had thrown out all tropical aesthetics, making it feel several hundred times more comfortable.
Loki sat down in the seat offered to him in front of a large black desk, looking round at all the pictures of what he assumed were local landmarks and celebrities.
"I didn't have the right props for it today," Loki said, smiling wanly. "I expected it to be much worse than it was."
Fischer chuckled and flipped through the leather planner on his desk. "Yeah, but you're funny about it. You could have cussed it out when it didn't work."
"Would you prefer if I'd done that?" Loki asked. He didn't mention that he hadn't sworn at his props primarily because he'd got it all out of his system the night before.
"God, no. I hated that little fucker, and couldn't get him out of here quick enough," Fischer said. He found what he was looking for and grabbed a pen from the cup by his computer. "Well. We're looking at a July fourth opening. That's about six weeks from now. Think you can get what you need over here by then?"
Loki couldn't entirely believe what he'd heard. He was half expecting to have to get on his knees and blow someone to be able to get any work, and was completely prepared to try it with Fischer.
"Uh." He blinked and shook his head a bit, still trying to recover from the shock. "I may have to sell a kidney to afford it. I barely have enough to stay where I'm at for much longer." It pained him having to admit it and risk losing the job, but he knew he couldn't afford to keep his apartment and fly everything over from Reykjavík. He shrugged, trying not to seem as hopeless and desperate as he knew he was.
Fischer, on the other hand, barely seemed fazed by it. "Where are you staying?" He asked.
Loki pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Just around the corner. At, what is it? Harbour Island, or something."
Fischer actually flinched. "Oh god. Why?" he asked.
Loki shrugged again. "They're cheap. Ish. And they'd rent to me even with foreign ID," he said.
"No, you have to get out of there before you get a disease," said Fischer, making Loki wonder what he hadn't been told about the place.
Fischer flipped back through his planner again and nodded to himself.
"Well. Why don't you come back tomorrow around ten? Sign all the paperwork and go through everything you need from us." said Fischer. "I'll send someone by to pick you up so you don't have to deal with the cabs."
"All right," Loki said agreeably. He was almost afraid to point out that he still couldn't afford to move his props over from Iceland, in case Fischer decided to go with someone else at the last minute.
"And pack your bags and get ready to check out," Fischer said. He wrote a note on an oversized sticky note and slid it into his pocket. "Our hotel is finished. It's not inspected, but it's still safer than where you're at now. We'll put you in one of the suites until you find somewhere better."
Loki nodded, wondering where the punchline came in.
"That sounds good. Thank you," he said.
He stood and shook Fischer's hand over the desk.
"And go ahead and leave your things here," Fischer said as Loki started to walk out of the office. "It'll be locked up, and we'll get your fish fed for you."
Loki nodded. "Thank you. Again," he said.
Fisher nodded back. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Loki left the office and eventually found his way back outside. There was still no sign of a cab anywhere in sight, but Loki decided he was feeling good enough to walk back, even despite the heat.
