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LUCKY THIRTY-EIGHT
Vegas, baby, Vegas!
July 10th
14:52
At first sight, Vegas was everything En had expected, and at the same time it wasn't.
She'd expected the lights, even in the middle of the hot, sunny day, and she'd expected the tall buildings, the billboards, the tacky slogans on them and the music bopping out of the speakers in front of the casinos.
She hadn't expected the people. Proppers stood outside of the casinos and bordellos, shouting themselves hoarse just to get a few more customers inside, whores (because they were dressed as them) stood leaning against the walls, smoking cigarettes and advertising bodies with cellulite dimples in their legs and bruises in the crooks of their elbows and chem-wasted teeth. Three NCR troopers waddled through the streets, drunk as Irishmen, leaning on each other and tripping over their own feet. From a distance, an NCR soldier with a black MP-armband noticed them and jogged toward them, his baton ready to give them all a good electrically-charged thrashing. There were beggars in the streets, though not as many as in Freeside. En imagined not too many actually got in, and those that did were probably very quickly displaced. It was all really decadent, she felt.
The Securitrons were here too, patrolling the city. They didn't seem to bother the NCR soldiers, but En was certain that any troublemakers quickly got their asses handed to them.
Most of the buildings were of a decent size, but three stood out. One casino called Gomorrah had fiery red letters hung high to show how special it was. En's biblical knowledge wasn't stellar, but she knew what the deal with the city of Gomorrah had been, so she imagined gambling wasn't the only thing that went on in there. Another noticeable casino was a stylish white structure called the Ultra Luxe. It was a ridiculous name, but at least it didn't look anywhere near as sleazy as that Gomorrah place. The third and last big casino looked to be a more wholesome place, called the Tops. The billboard advertised mostly singing and dancing acts, and there was even an actual musical advertised. Then again, this was Vegas, so for all En knew, all those acts were done naked with a midget's arm up the ass.
"We're finally here," Watkins sighed with a broad smile. Then her giddiness came back. "Which casino do we go to first? That Gomorrah place looks like it's a lot of fun!"
For her, yeah.
"Let's focus on what we're here for, Leza." Sunny said, taking the words out of En's mouth. "We need to find that bastard Benny first."
"Right, right," Watkins said, containing herself. "Shithead who shot Ennie first, gambling later."
"We can at least go grab a beer at that stand though," Meyers pointed out. Finely, he added, "Or a scotch."
"Ooh yay beer!" Watkins chirped. With Meyers, Sunny and Ringo, she walked to the drinks stand while Melissa and En remained behind to see what had to be done now. "So, Melissa, where's our friend B – "
"Well, howdy pardner!"
Oh man, this had to be a joke. With a long, grunting sigh, En lowered her head and groaned, "Hello, Victor."
"Imagine runnin' into you here, little trail hand!"
"Yeah. Imagine."
"Made it all the way here from John Chisum's ranch. I'm impressed, cowgirl!'
"What do you want, Victor?"
The Securitron-with-cowboy-face-monitor rode around her on its one wheel so she faced it, then proudly announced, "I have the pleasure to invite you to the Lucky 38!"
"Got the whot?" Melissa asked incredulously. "All the time you've been followin' us, you little rotter, it was just to advertise a flippin' casino?"
There was the sound of three disapproving tongue-clicks, and then Victor, in its perpetually cheerful, annoying, thin, tinny voice said, "Well shucks, my Apache friend, I done expressed myself completely wrong. I meant to say there's someone who'd like to have a little word with your little pardner here. Concernin' that varmint with his checkered livery."
Wait, what did he say?
"You know where I can find Benny?" En demanded to know.
"Shucks, no, little trail hand, I'm just a poor lonesome cowboy, an' a long, long way from home. But my sheriff, he knows about that yellow-bellied outlaw, an' he's waitin' for you to tie your horse to the post at the Lucky 38."
Well, that was an appointment she couldn't afford to miss. The tower of the Lucky 38 was the highest in all of Vegas, visible from far away, even from Goodsprings. So that was the mysterious tower she'd seen at the horizon. And she'd seen it when she'd been on her knees and looking into the barrel of a gun too. God damn Benny.
At the thought, fireflies zipped across her vision. "Melissa, I'm getting one," she merely said, and then her muscles went beyond her control again, and she felt herself going to the ground, her legs no longer supporting her. Melissa had the reflex to catch her, she felt, and lower her gently to the ground, taking off her leather vest and showing it under her head so she didn't hurt herself. All En could do was wait out the seizure, powerless as it took control of her and sent her limbs twitching and flailing.
"Well slap my ass an' call me Sally, looks like our little trail hand's not feelin' too w – "
"Shut your damn face right now, you mongrel," Melissa snapped at the robot. "Y'alright, jillaroo?"
The seizure slowly abated, the blinding head pain coming down gradually and the ear-shrieking lessening to a tolerable level. It had been a bad seizure, but they hadn't been as frequent since she'd been taking the anti-depressants. As she regained control over her muscles, En hoped the anti-depressants would work even better over time, because this was terrible. Worst of all, she'd had one in front of that rotten bucket of bolts, Victor.
"I'm… okay," she breathed, sitting up. "God damn seizures."
Melissa sat kneeled next to her. "Yeah. For what it's worth, I still hate mys – "
"Don't. Hating yourself doesn't help anyone, least of all me."
"Yeah." She stood up and held out her hand to pull En up as well. "Guess you're right about that."
"This is all Benny's fault," En said, her teeth clenched. The bastard would pay.
"We'll find him, En. We're dead close, I'm positive."
"Yeah."
Victor had rolled away, finally realizing he was too much. Good.
"You alright, miss?" two NCR MP's asked, looking at her concerned. "Had a bit too much, huh?"
"No," she snapped, pointing at the side of her head. "I get seizures ever since some shitbitch shot me in the head. Got any more insensitive questions?"
"Uh… no, miss," the MP said, hopefully feeling incredibly stupid. "Sorry, uh, we just wanted to check up on you and all."
"I'm fine," En said.
"Now bugger off," Melissa added sharply. "Go shoot some women and children!"
"Hey, that's uncalled for," the MP half-shouted, lifting his baton, but his partner took him by the shoulder and said, "Let it go, Tom. Let's just leave it alone."
The MP stood glaring at Melissa for a moment longer, then followed his partner, disappearing in the crowd.
"Arseholes," Melissa grunted after them.
"I'm alright," En said again. "Let's get to that Lucky 38 place then?"
They picked up the others, who'd just finished their drinks, and walked through the crowd together, keeping an eye on each other and their packs, because there was no way there weren't any pickpockets and thieves in this place. It was simply impossible.
They arrived at the Lucky 38 without incident, however, and the tower was surrounded by long, red concentric stairs, leading to a broad dark glass double door. There wasn't much activity inside, and the place looked to be closed. Like it had been for a long time, in fact. The stairs were completely free of people (and litter), but next to the door was her old friend Victor. En took the liberty of counting him among the nonexistent litter.
As they stepped up the stairs to the grey stone tower with its red stripes running up its sides, Victor rolled up to them and said, "Ah, pardner, 'fraid I can't let you pass. Not like that anyway."
Ugh, what now? "Victor," she said with barely contained anger, "you told me to come here and now you're telling me I can't go in. Start making sense before I take my screwdriver to your back plate."
"Aw, well shucks, little trail hand! No need to get all riled up. You can go in, butcha gotta leave your band of cowboys behind. Only the Courier's allowed into the saloon, I'm afraid."
"What, I can only go in alone?"
"Got that right, little cowgirl."
"Whoa, whoa," Sunny promptly protested. "You're expecting her to go into this creepy-ass abandoned casino all on her own? What, didn't she get shot in the head enough times yet?"
"Ma'am, it breaks my heart, but yes, that's exactly what I'm sayin'. Now don't be worryin' too much. Mr. House don't got nothin' to gain by murderin' a little cowgirl in cold blood. We're a place of business, not a slaughterhouse."
"That's what you say," Melissa said. "But you're still tellin' a kid to go into a buildin' on her own without knowin' what's inside."
"Yeah," Watkins joined in. "That's, like, totally not gonna happen."
"I don't think there's much to fear," Ringo said calmly. "Not much is known about Mr. House, but I will tell you he is indeed a businessman, not a murderer. I'm rather certain Mr. House didn't try to get you murdered. In fact, I'm rather convinced – "
"… That he's the original addressee or your package," Meyers completed.
"Exactly."
"Mr. House?" En asked. "Who the fuck is Mr. House?"
"He's the de facto boss of Las Vegas. Surprised you've never heard of him?"
"Well, no. It's my first time this far out, remember?"
"Lots of rumours about him, but none that portray him as a murderer," Ringo continued. "I'm sure he wouldn't have anything to gain by killing you either."
"Don't think so either," Meyers supported him. "But he just might intend to use you as a sucker to get his delivery back, so don't let him fill your head with promises of revenge, now."
"I still think it's a bad idea to let her go alone," Sunny said, crossing her arms as Cheyenne looked up at her, panting. En still suspected the damn dog of actually understanding them.
"Your decision, jillaroo."
It was a risk, but one she had to take. She'd come this far and if she wanted to find Benny, this was her best bet. And if Ringo said this Mr. House dude wasn't the murdering sort, then she supposed he wasn't. Whoever he was. "I'll take the chance," she said, earning her a disapproving sigh from Sunny and Leza. "I need to do this, I didn't come all this way to chicken out now. Can I keep my weapons?" she asked Victor.
"Sure thing, pardner, you can keep your shootin' irons."
"Alright, I'm ready."
Victor rolled out of the way, even though the door was more than wide enough for her to be able to pass him, and she approached the door, which slid open as she came near.
Stepping through after one last look at her friends, she found herself in a casino, but there was no one inside. The place was meticulously maintained though, the carpets were bright red and free of dust, as were the one-armed bandits, blackjack and roulette tables, and the bars and stools. The place was gloomy, but she could find her way easily enough. Another Securitron stood by the lift in the centre of the casino floor. En assumed that was where she had to go. As she approached the bot, the stern cop cartoon face disappeared, replaced by Victor's annoying cowboy grin.
So that was how the fucker did it, always being one step ahead. He simply jumped to any bot he wanted. Well, it, because it was still software, but the Victor software could actually switch units as needed. She hated Victor even more now.
"Get your saddle-sore behind into the lift here, little trail hand," Victor told her. "So you'll finally see what's at the top of the church tower."
En figured they probably wouldn't drop the elevator from up high just to kill her in a more spectacular fashion, so she got in. The doors closed and the elevator buzzed into action. En had never been in an elevator before, and the feeling of the cage around her accelerating upwards was most peculiar, as was the gentle stop at the end. The elevator floor opened with a cute little ding, and she stepped out of it, looking out at the blue sky through the far wall, which was one giant window, really.
"Penthouse floor," a robot inhabited by Victor announced. Creepy.
She was on a mezzanine overlooking a lounge, which apparently went all the way in a circle, following the ring of the saucer-like construction they were in, giving a breathtaking panoramic view. The lounge was, just like the casino, immaculately maintained, but completely devoid of people. She stepped down the stairs, between the tables, and towards the window. The glass was angled towards the ground, so she could look all the way down to the street level. God damn she was up high, at least twenty metres. She could see Sunny and Melissa and Leza and Ringo and Meyers standing on the red stairs ringing the casino, tiny toy people from her height. None of them looked up, though, so they couldn't see her. Shame.
"Miss?" a female robotic voice gently asked behind her.
En turned around, "Yeah?"
"Hi," she spoke in a Southern secretary voice, pronouncing it not "Hi", but "Haah." On its monitor was the cartoon face of a blonde secretary with fifties helmet hair. "Welcome to the Lucky 38. Gorgeous view, isn't it? You had an appointment with Mr. House, right?" She didn't wait for the answer. "If you please, could you step over here? Mr. House is ready to see you now."
Aw, she didn't get time to enjoy the view more. Ah well. Work came first. She followed the Securitron through the circular lounge, until they came to a pale blue curtain. "Mr. House is right behind this curtain," the robot announced redundantly. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to call on me. Just ask for Jane, that's me."
"Uh huh."
With that, the robot shut up and moved aside. Taking a short breath, En stepped through the curtain.
She'd expected to see a man in a suit sitting there, possibly stroking a tiger or something, flanked by half-naked oiled female black bodyguards, but there was no such thing. The bodyguards were two Securitron robots, and the man in the suit, well… it technically was a man in a suit, only it was a bust projected onto an enormous television screen, at least her height, and possibly more. It hung three metres high, so that anyone talking to it would have to look up and presumably feel humbled.
The bust itself was of a stylish and handsome gentleman with a thin fifties moustache and black hair, slicked over and parted to one side. The face was motionless apart from the occasional flicker of the screen. It was the face not of a rich businessman, but that of a star actor playing the part of the rich businessman.
"Uh… hi," En said to the monitor.
"Ah. The Courier," the speakers droned in a cultured, somewhat aloof male voice. "I was beginning to think no one would show up."
"Well… I'm here now, I guess."
"So you are. Victor reported your progress to me. You've made it here in one piece, and I suppose some would consider that an achievement."
Not exactly generous with praise, this one. "An achievement, yeah. I try to get as many of those as possible so I can show everyone how hardcore I am."
"Your snarky tone will not win you any favours." He promptly dismissed the matter and introduced himself. "I, as you may know, am Mr. House. New Vegas is my territory, and I've overseen it for longer than I care to remember. I have many people working for me – and I don't mean the robots – and without knowing, you were in my employ as well."
Yeah, so Ringo and Meyers had been right. "Let me guess, the package?"
"Indeed. The package."
A silence fell, probably because this computerized windbag thought it'd make her nervous. But shit, she wasn't about to let herself be brought off-balance by a stupid face on a stupid screen. "Is this the part where you make an offer I can't refuse?"
Another short silence, and then, "As disagreeable as I find your attitude, yes, I have an offer for you. I am prepared to pay you most handsomely for the retrieval of this package."
"The platinum chip, you mean?"
A short flicker went through the screen. "I paid good money to ensure safe delivery, and secrecy, and I see now that I have received neither."
"Yeah, well, I was robbed just outside Goodsprings, by someone who knew damn well what he was looking for, and he's the one who took the chip out of the package and showed it off to me," En shot back. "Hardly my fault."
"The safety of the object entrusted in your care is your responsibility. But in all fairness," the computerized voice said, "the carelessness was partly mine as well."
"Yeah. I don't think that Benny guy just happened to be in the neighbourhood when he took my package, made me get on my knees and shot me in the head."
"Quite. Now then, it would seem we both require something from my erstwhile associate. And the platinum chip is where it all begins."
En already knew what was coming. "Right. You want me to prance to wherever it is he's hiding and get your precious little chip back."
"Your perceptiveness is astounding."
"What makes you think I'll just do what you say?"
The computerized voice made something that resembled a chuckle. "If the monetary reward isn't incentive enough, then I daresay the answers to your questions doubtless will be."
She wasn't falling for that one so easily. She crossed her arms at the screen. "What makes you think I even have questions that need answering?"
Another digital chuckle. "You would not have come here if you didn't. And at this time, only Benny or myself can answer them. I am not yet inclined to do so," he paused for effect, "and I think you'll find Benny even less cooperative."
Alright, he had her on that one. Damn, she was falling for it so easily. "Ugh, you know what, fine. Where is that asshole Benny?"
She practically heard the victorious gloating in its voice. "You'll find him in the Tops casino. He and his associate Swank are in charge of the place. Both are in my pocket, or at least they were, until Benny turned on me."
"Whatever this platinum chip is, or what it's worth," En pointed out, "you sure protected it pretty badly if it was that precious to you."
Grudgingly, the voice with the face of the fifties actor-playing-businessman admitted, "Placing my trust in Benny was a mistake, indeed. One you will soon rectify, I assume?"
There came the question again. "I… haven't decided yet."
"Hmph. Mercy. The great inhibitor to success. Be that as it may, I deliberately chose an anonymous and unprotected delivery. My enemies knew I needed the chip and that I would try to bring it here. Think on it, what is more suspicious, a courier carrying a little box all on his own, or an entire caravan with armed guards?"
"Yeah, fat lot of good your approach did to me."
"What's done is done. And I was not responsible for your mishap. Benny was the one who made the decision to betray me and victimize you. You should seek restitution from him, not me. I'm offering you an opportunity."
"I already said fine," En said with a frown. "Just don't think I consider you the good guy."
A laugh came from the speakers, the first sound they had produced that actually sounded sincere. "I harbour no illusions about what side of the karmic coin I am thought to find myself on. I don't expect you to follow my instructions out of a deluded sense of right and wrong. I'm offering you an opportunity, one that requires you to ally with me for a certain amount of time. No more."
She'd heard enough. "Tops casino, huh?"
"Indeed. Return to me when you have the platinum chip. Don't bother showing up before then."
She was going to try to wring some information out of him while she still could. "I have more questions before I go."
"No," the voice calling itself Mr. House said calmly, but firmly. "No more questions. Jane will show you out. Good day."
En turned away and under her breath muttered, "fucker."
"These audio receptors are highly sensitive, miss Tessara. I suggest you keep your thoughts in your head, unless you'd like my Securitrons to get them out of there along with everything else."
Oops. Bus-ted. "No thanks," she said, walking out, "I've had enough head trauma to last a lifetime."
The elevator ride down was uneventful, and after navigating the gloomy casino floor, she found herself back in the sunlight. Only Melissa and Watkins were waiting at the base of the stairs.
"The others have gone to find a place to stay," Melissa told her as she joined them back on the street. "We're meetin' back here in half an hour."
"So we've got some girl-only time?" Watkins chirped. "Let's go do something fun!"
"Sure, yeah," En said. She knew where to find Benny now, and he'd probably be there often, so at least there was no more rush. "Whatcha wanna do?"
"Oooh, I don't know," Watkins said, bouncing and clapping her hands. "There's so much to see, so much to do?"
"Well, we can always go for a beer?"
"Beer, yeah!" Watkins agreed.
They shouldered through the crowd to a drinks stand and ordered three beers. En preferred soda, but for the sake of camaraderie, she ordered the same as the others.
"Cheers, mongrels," Melissa said, hoisting her beer into the air. Watkins toasted along enthusiastically, and they drunk their beer. It was ice cold and tasted pretty damn refreshing. They talked a bit about this and that before the others returned, ordering a new round of beers when Sunny, Ringo and Meyers came back to join them.
"Hey sweetie, so? What'd you find out?" Sunny asked, uncapping her beer. It was always nice when bartenders let you keep the cap. A single cap was worthless, but the gesture was important.
"I know where Benny is," En said, beaming.
"Aha!" Meyers exclaimed enthusiastically. "Your quest draws to a close!"
"We'll see about that," En said, kinda hoping it wouldn't be over just yet, because despite her occasional frustration, she really was enjoying her time with these new friends. "But he's apparently at the Tops casino."
"I think I saw a billboard for that a short way back," Ringo said.
"M-hm, we walked past it."
"Check it out now?" Sunny asked.
Much as she wanted to, En smiled and said, "No, tonight we're going to forget why we're here and have some fun!"
"Hell yeah, Ennie!" Watkins cheered, full of enthusiasm, pumping a fist into the air. "Vegas, baby!"
Meyers had to grin at that and agree with a frugal, "Well, quite."
"Our finances equipped to handle the onslaught?" Ringo asked. En interpreted his question as an approval.
"I think so, yeah, we have umm…" she quickly counted in her head, "around two hundred caps left. Minus the cost for the rooms…?"
"They were twenty a night, per person," Sunny said, looking guilty."Not exactly the cheapest."
"Mmmno, but just you wait and see, I'll double our money in no time," En said confidently.
"Okay, okay," Watkins chirped. "Me and Ennie are going to gamble and stuff, who's coming too?"
"I am," Sunny said. "Well, we are, right?"
With a shrug, Ringo said, "Sure. Let's just not get too exuberant, shall we?"
"Nah," En said. "We're gonna gamble to have fun, not to waste caps."
"It stands to reason that I'm joining you," Meyers said. "Good company, a good game, a good scotch and a good pipe, there is very little better."
"A good book?" En asked.
With a grin, Meyers said, "Very little doesn't mean nothing."
Watkins said, "You coming too, Melissa?"
"I wouldn't wanna miss out on the chance to see you guys in tuxedoes and cocktail dresses," Melissa answered. "Sure yeah, count me in."
"Will you be wearing a cocktail dress too, Melissa?" En couldn't resist asking.
"Pft, with this bod? I'm ugly enough without a dress makin' it even worse."
"You ladies are aware we don't have the benefit of tuxedoes and cocktail dresses, yes?" Ringo asked with a curious frown.
"Ugh, Ringo!" Watkins whined, "stop ruining our illusions?"
"Alright," En said. "Plan right now: drop off our stuff at the hotel, wash up and change clothes, and go out gambling, looking scandalously gorgeous!"
"Want me to do your hair, miss En?" Ringo asked.
"Ooh, yes!" En said, "Got anything in mind?"
"Mmmno, not really, but I could give it a nice trim, model it a little for special occasions."
"Wait, wait," Watkins said. "You do hair?"
Ringo crossed his arms and looked at her defiantly. "Yes I do. Don't bother questioning my sexuality, I'm more than secure enough in my manhood."
"Okay. It's just… ummm… unusual?"
"Unusual is fun," En said, averting the attention from Ringo's hobby. "And yeah, Ringo, I'd love for you to make me pretty."
"That's gonna require more than just a perm," Melissa pointed out, earning her a playful kick to the shins from En.
"Come on, let's go."
They only had to walk a few hundred metres down the road. "There it is," Sunny called out from the front of the group. "Vault 21."
It actually was an honest-to-God Vault, repurposed as a hotel, apparently. Staying in a hotel underground didn't seem all that appealing (a few windows were always nice), but En had absolutely no reason to complain about anything right now. They checked into the hotel, run by a blonde girl who looked like a slightly plainer Watkins with a clearly Jewish nose, threw their bags into their rooms (room division was quickly determined, according to the standard principles), and freshened up. En didn't shower just yet – it'd be a silly thing to do before a haircut – but she already laid out the denim skirt and white sleeveless shirt she'd bought in Novac for the evening, and unpacked her bathroom stuff. Her soap, toothbrush and toothpaste were there and ready for service, but her eyeliner pencil had snapped in two, making a few ugly stripes on the inside of her sponge bag.
"Hey Leza?" she called out the door.
"Yah?"
"Got some eyeliner I can use?"
"Uh huh." Without knocking, Watkins pattered into the bathroom in her underwear, holding a small make-up bag, thrusting it at her. "You are totally going to use foundation tonight?"
"Uh, I've never – "
"Shush, I'll teach you," Watkins cut her protest short. "Shower free?"
"I'll be out of here in a sec."
Watkins shrugged. "I can shower with you here, I mean, we're not strangers or anything?"
"Uh… no, no, I'll be out in a minute."
With a grin, Watkins leaned against the door jamb. "Never thought someone would ever refuse to stay in the bathroom when I shower?" Despite herself, En believed her. Seeing her in her underwear confirmed what En already knew: she had a body to die for – and to feel venomously jealous over. Stupid sexy Watkins.
"Something wrong?" she asked, actually picking up on En's brief mood dip.
"Uh? No, no, I'm good." There was a knock on the door. "Ah, that'll be Ringo."
Watkins craned her neck at the door. "The offer to stay in the bathroom when I shower doesn't extend to him, okay?"
En raised an eyebrow. "I thought you enjoyed male attention?"
"Um, only if I can do so without being a homewrecker?"
En found it hard to believe. Leza had doubtless wrecked more than one relationship in her life, but hey, at least she had the decency not to do it entirely on purpose. "Well, enjoy your shower." She switched places with Watkins.
"Oh I will. Since you'll be out there, I can have some fun with the showerhead?"
"Leza, eww, I still have to use that, come on!"
Watkins snickered. "I'm kidding, silly?" As she reached behind her to unhook her bra, she nudged the door with her toe, making it click closed in En's face. En sure hoped she'd been joking.
Ringo looked slightly peeved when she opened the door, standing there with a frown on his face and a sheet draped over his arm, his scissor bag on top of it. "Not exactly expedient in opening the door, are we?"
"Sorry, I had to shield a half-naked Watkins from your hungry man-eyes."
"Best not say the words 'half-naked' and 'Watkins' too loudly, with Meyers a few rooms down the hall," Ringo pointed out.
"Mm. Yeah."
"Now then, shall we?"
"Totally!"
En sat down on a chair in front of the mirror next to the bed, and Ringo came to stand behind her, draping one of the sheets he stole from the hotel room's reserve closet over her shoulders. "Now then, miss En, any preference?"
With a flourish of her hand, she simple said, "Make me pretty, Ringo!"
"Very well." As he began, snipping at her hair, he told her, "I'm not going to change too much, since it's already so short, but I think it'd be nice if the hair on top kind of," he made an inverted V with his hands, "comes together with a semblance of a faux-hawk."
"Whoa, hey, no Melissa cut, alright?"
Ringo laughed. "No, no, just making it a little more exciting."
"Hmph. I trust you."
"Don't worry, I'll keep it subtle." He snipped at her hair some more. "Sunny appreciates the conversation you had the other day, incidentally."
"Yeah," En said, "I think we both needed it." It was a bit of a lie, but what the Hell. The sound of water being turned on could be heard from the bathroom.
"I appreciate it as well," he said, parting the hair away from her scar to avoid hurting her. He did so regardless, but En kept quiet. The damn thing still hurt like Hell when someone touched it. Fuck that sonovabitch Benny. She had half a mind to get up right now, in the middle of her haircut, and march to the Tops to blow his god damn brains out.
"Sorry, was that painful?" Ringo asked, concerned.
"A bit yeah. Can't believe it's still so sensitive." She sighed. "And so ugly."
"I don't even notice it anymore, myself," Ringo said with a shrug. "And neither does Sunny."
En chuckled without much humour. "Nice of you to say."
"It's the truth."
"… maybe I didn't lo~ve you…"
Ringo and En fell silent, and in the mirror their gazes met, eyes wide in surprise at the singing voice flitting through the sound of running water. What the Hell?
"… quite as often as I shou~ld have…"
"Is that…?"
"Uh huh," En said. "It's her. Holy shit."
"… maybe I didn't trea~t you…"
"… I find that hard to believe," Ringo said, sounding skeptical. "Her voice is usually so…"
"… quite as good as I shou~ld have…"
"… Nasal, huh?" En said. "Yeah. But seems like when she sings…"
"… Damn."
"Everyone should hear this," En decided, jumping up from her chair, cut-off snippets of hair going airborne in all directions, and running to the other rooms. Sunny and Cheyenne were lying on the bed with their eyes closed – predictably – and Meyers was meticulously arranging his books on his night stand while Melissa sat on the bed, undoing her boot laces. In the doorway of both rooms En called, "Guys, come on, come on, something you gotta hear."
Meyers was intrigued instantly, Melissa followed, trudging behind her with her boots open, and Sunny moaning at the interruption of her rest but following anyway.
"Te~ll me…"
Somewhat annoyed, Melissa asked, "What are we listening t – " , but then she noticed the entire group, except for one person, was in the room, and one corner of her mouth pulled away in a grin. "No way."
"Uh huh," En said with a smile.
"Wait," Sunny said, still half-asleep. "We're all here except Watkins. And we all know she has a voice like a banshee when she talks, so…"
"Tell me that your sweet lo~ve hasn't die~d…"
"Nope," Ringo said. "The originator of the vocal work is indeed miss Watkins."
Meyers simply stood in the centre of the room, listening, in complete rapture.
"Te~ll me…"
Melissa shook her head. "I am having the hardest time actually matching this voice to Watkins' ditzy face."
"She's not a ditz," Meyers said, a little too quickly.
"Well, regardless," Ringo opined, "I must admit I've – "
"Um, Ennie, could you hand me m - AAH!"Watkins yelped, after suddenly appearing butt naked in the room, thankfully drying her face with her bath towel, which hung down her body and covered all her vital areas. "What the Hell?!" she shrieked, wide-eyed, clenching the towel against her body in a comically prude stance.
The others erupted in a flurry of apologies and attempts at explanation, becoming completely unintelligible. Then everyone fell silent and there was a moment of complete puzzlement, all eyes on the dripping wet, holding-the-towel Watkins. An incredibly awkward silence hung in the room.
"Um, okay," Watkins snapped, breaking the stalemate. "If you're waiting for me to drop this towel, you're gonna wait a long, long time!"
"Ladies, gentlemen," Ringo announced, as dignified as he could, "I suggest we vacate the premises."
"Yeah," Sunny agreed. "Get out, you filthy greedy men."
"So I can stay?" Melissa attempted with a grin, earning her a stare from Watkins that was icy cold and at the same time, hot as hellfire.
"Errr, I think it's best if you beat it too," En said, embarrassed. "Don't worry Leza, we didn't, uh… no critical part of you was ever exposed."
"And that," Melissa remarked, still grinning, "is too bad!"
"Uh, Leza," Meyers stammered, "I'd like to apologize from the bottom of my – "
"Apologize when I'm wearing clothes?" Watkins cut him off.
"Of course, of course." With that, Meyers hastily backed out the door, following the others, leaving only En.
After another moment of awkward silence, En asked, "So uh… what did you want me to hand to you?"
Leza only snatched her smaller hair towel from the rack and whacked it over En's head. "My clean underwear, stupid!" And after another towel whip in her direction, she added, "You'd be getting a much bigger beating if I'd come out without my towel?"
"Hey," En said, dodging the lash, "Not my fault you decided to pop out of the bathroom butt-naked like a jack-in-the-box." She tossed Watkins the panties and bra. "Besides, did you forget Ringo was here, cutting my hair?"
Watkins checked, her face went blank for a second, and then she sheepishly admitted. "Uh…yeah. I… totally did. Crap."
"Moron."
Before she got dressed, Watkins let her head stick out the door and asked, "Oh by the way… your hair gonna stay that crooked? Because it kinda looks like shit?"
Oh shit, she'd forgotten. Ringo had been in the middle of cutting her hair. It probably looked lopsided and ridiculous. "I'll uh… ask Ringo to finish the job in his room."
Watkins approved with an irritated "Hmph," before pulling the door closed again.
The rest of the hair-cutting was uneventful, this time accompanied by Sunny's comments, and when Ringo announced, "Done!", Sunny looked at En, her head cocked, and said, "It's nice but… kinda boyish."
"Even more?" En asked.
"Mmmyeah, but it suits you, kinda."
"Boyish suits me?" That was hardly a compliment.
"M-hm."
Ringo stayed quiet and handed her a mirror. It wasn't as masculine as she'd feared, her previous nondescript short hairstyle replaced by a trendy-looking faux-hawk. It was a bit boyish, sure, but it didn't take away the femininity of the rest of her appearance. "Ringo," she said, "job well done."
"I am pleased it merits your approval, miss En."
"Now I gotta hop in the shower and get ready or Watkins is going to drag me in there and throw me in the bath herself."
"Yes, I suppose if we're going for a night on the town," Ringo said, "we must look our finest."
Sunny grabbed her sponge bag and headed into the bathroom. "I always look my best."
En quickly showered, jumped into her clothes, and modelled her hair. It was rather good-looking, she had to admit. The other hairstyle had been nice too, but maybe a bit too plain. Watkins taught her the mysteries of using foundation with much eagerness, and even though it felt like her face was caked with wall plaster, Leza assured her it made her look completely dead gorgeous. Though not as gorgeous as she found herself, probably, but whatever.
They'd agreed to meet in the lobby and head out together. Leza had put on her tight blue jeans and the chest-hugging black tank top, Meyers only had the shirt and jeans they'd bought at Mick & "Raiph's", Melissa was… well, Melissa, and Ringo and Sunny seemed to be taking their sweet time. En guessed she knew why: Sunny wanted to make a spectacular entrée in her new dress.
And yep, she'd been right.
"I'll be buggered," Melissa commented when Sunny came into the lobby, Ringo leading her by the hand. He was wearing a smart dark blue shirt and black jeans, and Sunny wore her new dress, looking spectacular in it, the fabric hugging her body in all the right places, showing off a modest amount of cleavage but leaving her legs covered. Her hair was worn up, doubtless after some caretaking by Ringo, and a single silver necklace completed her look.
"Oh em gee, Sunny!" Watkins blurted out. "That dress is like, sixty-two flavours of awesome?"
"How do I look, how do I look?" Sunny asked, beaming as she turned around and showed the dress off.
"Miss Sunny," Meyers said, crossing his arms in approval, "you look ravishing."
"Thanks so much for going dress shopping with me, sweetie," Sunny said to En.
"My pleasure, except, well, now we're all looking like vagabonds next to you."
"Well," Ringo said to that, "I certainly see no problem with having Sunny be the belle of the evening tonight."
"Neither do we," En said with a smile, "Now let's strut!"
"Say uh," Melissa asked, "what about Cheyenne? Assumin' you don't want any dog hair on your clobber?"
"The owner's taking care of her," Sunny said. "She loves dogs."
Watkins, already standing by the stairs that led up and out of the hotel, insisted, "Come on, guys, Vegas!"
It was going dark when they emerged from the Vault 21 hotel, and the crowd had gotten even thicker, filing the streets, soldiers, civilians, traders, bums, all sorts of people, and most were here simply to gamble. From a casino some ways away, a flare shot up, whistling through the twilight sky to pop in a bright red palm tree. The air was at a pleasant temperature, when the hot day cools into a refreshing semi-warm.
"Alright, Leza," En said, "Choose a casino!"
"Hold on, hold on," Sunny called out. "Wait a sec, we're going to get some churros!"
Oh yeah, a woman in an elegant evening dress stuffing her face with churros, that would be a sight. Meyers seemed to think differently. "Churros, don't mind if I join!"
En, Leza and Melissa watched them make their way to the churros-stand Sunny (of course, Sunny) had immediately pinpointed.
"There they are! Hey, kid!" a gruff male voice called out to En. As she turned, she saw a man coming through the crowd, wearing a trench-coat. He had short but chaotic dark brown hair and a short-cut, thick brown beard and moustache. He looked to be in his early thirties, with a rugged face that some would probably describe as handsome, a sharp nose and powerful-looking eyes.
"… the Hell?" Melissa muttered.
"Kid, what were you doing in the Lucky 38 this afternoon?" the man asked bluntly when he reached them. Nice manners this guy had, whoever the fuck he was.
"I wondered if I could see my house from up there," En said crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow. "Or maybe I wanted to look down from on high on the guy who came to ask me stuff that's none of his business."
He raised his hands. "Look, settle down. I'm asking because… well, are you by any chance a Courier by trade?"
"Uh… yeah, why?"
"Thought so."
"… yes?" En said, waiting for the rest of the explanation. But then she heard a voice that sounded vaguely familiar.
"Look at that. If it isn't Watkins."
A woman wearing an old, tattered, thick woollen robe and an old dark green scarf over her hair had come to stand next to the trench-coated man, looking at Watkins with a disdainful sneer. She briefly interrupted her show of Watkins-disapproval to give En a brief smile and close-and-open her eyes at Melissa, greeting her in a way only people who'd shared their bed do.
"Veronica." Watkins said back, again with icicles hanging from her greeting.
"I forgot to say last time," Veronica told Watkins with clearly false friendliness, "I love what you've done with your hair, the one lock over your face. Clever. Can hardly notice your lazy eye anymore."
As En stood wondering what the Hell was going on, Melissa whispered in her ear, "This is gonna be good."
"At least I can show my hair, and I don't have to hide it with some ratty old scarf?" Watkins riposted.
"Oh no, you're all about showing," Veronica parried. "Go on, push those fake boobs out some more."
A triumphant smirk came over Watkins' face, and pointing unashamedly at her breasts, Watkins pointed out, "I'll have you know, Veronica, that these are all natural?" She thought she'd snatched away victory from under the other woman's nose, but En knew better. Veronica was too clever for that.
And indeed, she was quick to 'apologize', drawing back with her hands raised. "Oh. Sorry. You're right, I shouldn't insult the only thing about you worth mentioning."
Whoa, that one was a bit harsh. The barbs had been within limits until now, taking potshots at people's aspects, not their entire person. This one had been different – it wasn't a jovial stab, it was a downright insult, a dismissal of someone as an entire person. En didn't know what the history between these two was, but this was taking it too far. Melissa seemed to think so too, because En heard her quietly say, "Whoa there," in her ear.
Watkins' lower lip began to tremble and her eyes looked wounded. "Veronica? That's, like… a terrible thing to say?"
Veronica merely stood looking at her, not intent on taking back what she'd said, or even softening it a little bit.
A single tear streaked down Watkins' face, and En decided it had been enough. But before she could tell Veronica to take that rotten remark back, the man in the trenchcoat lost patience and barked, "What the Hell, you two? You wanna act bitchy to each other on your own god damn time?"
Veronica only crossed her arms, still glaring at Watkins, who was completely lost for words and looked genuinely hurt in the deepest of her soul. She was a ditz, but she'd clearly been wounded by what Veronica had said. She certainly didn't deserve to feel that way, and in En's opinion, Veronica did herself injustice by acting that way as well – she'd gotten to know her as a cheerful, caring person, not this snide, bitchy shrew she apparently turned into around Watkins.
"Veronica," En said harshly, "I don't know what it is between you guys, but Leza's part of my group, and I want you to respect that. That last remark was uncalled for, and coming from me, that's saying something."
Veronica's face became a lot less hard, and she said to En, "I respect that, En, and I apologize. To you, not to her."
That did nothing to help the situation or make Watkins feel less rotten, but thankfully Melissa defused the situation. "Hey Veronica? Let's go for a walk together, yeah? Spend some time?"
Veronica hesitated for a second, her eyes briefly shooting back to Watkins, but then she said, "Yeah, I'd love to."
"Come on, let's catch up, yeah?" With that, Melissa and Veronica walked off, though Veronica not without a last-second fiery glance at Watkins.
"… the fuck?" the bearded man muttered. "You people know each other?"
"Yeah," En said, "we ran into Veronica a while back. She and Watkins here apparently have a… history. Or something." Looking at Watkins, she added, "Leza should tell me about it some time."
Watkins said nothing, looking away.
"Anyway, whatever it is, it's not important right now," the man with the trench-coat decided. "I'd like to know what happened in there." He pointed at the Lucky 38, unlit but still sharply visible against the darkening sky.
"And I'd like to know why the birds always shit on my parents' roof right after I've cleaned it, but some things simply aren't mine to understand, you know?" En said back, crossing her arms again. Meanwhile, Watkins sullenly trudged away in the direction of the churro stand. Probably for the best.
The man rolled his eyes and let out a grunting sigh. "Look, this is important, so how about answering without bratty remarks, huh?"
"Tell me why it's so important to you then," En said, and when the man seemed apprehensive, she added, "Quid pro quo, Clarice."
After a few more seconds of hesitation, the man said, "Fine. We were carrying a package to New Vegas, but we got robbed on the way here. I was out finding water when the bastard hit the campsite, but…" The man's tough-guy face faltered ever so briefly when he said, "He shot my brother when he refused to give him the package. He was always so eager to be a damn hero."
"Who shot him?" En asked, already knowing the answer.
"Some asshole in a checkered suit."
Right. Seemed like she wasn't the only one who'd met Benny. He'd been honest with her, so might as well tell him the truth too. "Same thing happened to me. I was alone, and they took my package, then put me on my knees and," she turned the side of her head toward the man, "shot me in the head. So for what it's worth, whether or not your brother had handed his package over, they'd have shot him anyway."
"'They'? There was just one."
"There were three of them with me," En said, figuring it'd be wise to keep the identity of one of them secret. "Three big bad robbers against one teenage girl, and they still shot me."
The man put his hands in his sides and looked away, thinking. "This is all really strange. What was in your package?"
"What was in yours?"
He let out another grunting sigh. "A small platinum playing card."
"Huh. I had a small platinum poker chip."
"Platinum's valuable, I suppose it's worth killing over, but it doesn't add up in your case. Why shoot you over something they already had?"
A lot of people had asked that question already, and so far, only one explanation made sense. "I think because they didn't want to leave any witnesses. They didn't want anyone to talk, you know? Because I'm pretty sure there's more to that chip than just the platinum."
"Seems so, yeah. I heard the bastard say to my brother that 'the game was rigged from the start'. What do you suppose he meant by that?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. But I think it's pretty clear that it wasn't a simple robbery."
"No, looks like it wasn't." He looked away for a moment, his hands in his sides, thinking. "I think it's best if you let me handle things from here."
En blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Look, no offense, but this isn't something a teenager should be dealing with. It's all way too dangerous."
"Tch. As if I came all this way to just chicken out and let someone else have all the fun." Fat chance, tough guy.
"Fun?" the man half-shouted incredulously. "This isn't about fun, kid! People have died because of this. It's fucking serious, alright?"
En rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, well, you're too young for this, so just let me handle it, alright?"
Who the Hell did this guy think he was? "Um, no? What's with the bossing-around?"
The man lost patience again, shouting at her, "You wanna play with the big boys, kid? Huh? That it? Well, if you get your ass blown off, I'm not responsible!"
"No one said you were," En parried.
A woman holding a bag of churros came to stand next to Patronizing Trench-Coat Man and said, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?"
Ugh, shit, her. She might have forgotten their initial encounter, but En certainly hadn't. The red hair, the stupid taco-shaped straw cowboy hat, yeah, it was her alright. En's face had hurt for a day after the punches the drunken bitch had given her. She looked a bit less hammered now, but it was pretty clear she hadn't started the day on just coffee and a bagel.
"Does everyone fucking know each other around here?" Patronizing Trench Coat yelled in frustration. He seemed to have a bit of an anger problem. En felt a guilty sense of anticipation steal over her. The hot-tempered ones were always the most fun.
Straw Hat looked a bit taken aback by the harsh tone, and she looked at him and said, "Uh, geez, sorry, didn't mean to – "
"Whatever, Cass," he snapped. "Doesn't matter. Now kid, I'm telling you now, stay out of my way, got it?"
"I was staying out of everybody's way until you came to me, walking tough and telling me to mind my own business," En pointed out. "Which I was doing."
"Good. Keep it that way," he bit curtly. Then he stomped off towards the Lucky 38. Looks like he'd had an invite too. Whatever. Straw Hat gave her another where-do-I-know-this-kid-from look, and then went after him. Good doggie.
"Don't mind him," a calm, cold male voice said behind her as she watched him go. The man standing behind her was the sniper she'd seen in Novac, the one who'd blown that old biddy's head off. "He's under a lot of pressure. Not everyone can deal with it gracefully."
"Uh… seems so."
"Mm," the sniper simply said, and then also went in the direction of the Lucky 38.
What a weirdo.
The next voice was, thankfully, familiar. "Just because I love you so much, sweetie, I've brought you a bag."
"Huh?"
Sunny stood behind her, holding out a bag of churros. "A bag. I've brought you one."
"Oh, right, thanks." She took the paper bag and decided the whole other thing wasn't important right now. She'd seen how the people in the other group treated each other, and it had made her realize, she was damn lucky to be part of a group where people treated each other with friendliness and respect. Part of her had the urge to give Sunny a big-ass hug, but that'd be totally embarrassing, so she just said, "You're gonna make me fat with all your loving."
"You can use a curve or two," Sunny merely said, popping another one of the fried yellow sausages in her mouth. Ringo was contentedly munching his, and Meyers was crushing his bag into a ball, his mouth completely full. Leza walked next to them, still looking shaken.
"Hey, Leza," En said, hoping to cheer her up a bit. "I told you you got to choose the casino, didn't I?"
That seemed to get her out of her lethargy a bit. "Oh. Uh, yeah, right."
"So?"
"Well… Um, I figured, if that Benny guy runs the Tops casino, why don't we head over there? Like, get a feel for the place?"
"Excellent idea," Meyers immediately said. "You never know the hoops we'll have to jump through to even see the guy."
"You might want to stay off his radar though," Ringo remarked. "Gambling in his casino seems like the way to achieve the exact opposite of that."
"Bah," En said. "If he runs the casino, he probably won't be traipsing around on the gambling floor, he'll be up in his office. Besides, he thinks I'm dead, right?"
"Plus, you had your hair long then too, didn't you?" Sunny asked.
"M-hm."
"I don't know," Ringo said, "Melissa recognized you too."
"What's Melissa got to do with this?" Meyers asked with a frown, in the middle of stealing a churro from Sunny's bag.
"Uh, nothing, nothing."
Meyers didn't seem satisfied. "Mm. Anyway, I don't think there's much harm in going. You'll be in the middle of a packed casino floor. Hardly a very conspicuous place."
"Exactly," En said. "Let's wait for Melissa a sec and then we're going."
"She's uh, just over there," Watkins pointed out, drawing their attention to a drinks stand where Melissa and Veronica were sharing a beer and talking, hopefully not about Watkins.
"Hey Melissa?" En called out over the heads of the crowd in the street.
Melissa looked back and nudged her chin at En in a what?-gesture.
"We'll be at the Tops!"
Melissa answered with a raised thumb.
"Let's hit it," Sunny announced.
As they walked, shouldering through the crowd when it became thick here and there, En asked Watkins, "Hey, so what's the deal with you and Veronica?"
"Ugh," Watkins grunted in frustration. "I don't know. She just got on my case one day and never stopped?"
"What, just like that?"
"Ye-ah. I don't know if it's jealousy or just her being a bitch, but she hates my guts even though I never did anything wrong?"
"Come on, there's gotta be a reason."
"I'm telling you, I don't know? She's just… I don't know, she just hates me?"
"Weird."
"Yuh-huh."
"You okay, though?" She probably needed someone to show some concern.
"Sure, yeah. Was just a rotten remark, is all?"
"Yeah, it was."
"I mean, I've been called a lot of things and I usually just, you know, shrug and move on?" She waited for En to nod in acknowledgment and then went on, "But this, I dunno… was just telling me I was completely worthless. Not cool."
"Well, you're not. You know that, right?"
She smiled and nodded. "Yep, don't worry, I'm alright?"
"You better be, because I need you at your best tonight."
Leza's smile widened into a grin. "Oh don't worry, I'm all set for a night of sex and drugs and rock 'n' roll?"
"Primarily sex for you, probably," En said, hoping she'd restrain herself somewhat.
It was idle hope. "Oh yeah."
"Let me know in advance so I can go bunk with Melissa and Meyers."
"Sure that's a good idea?" Leza asked mischievously. "Who knows what those two are up to in that room…"
"Ugh, I don't even wanna think about that."
Even Ringo seemed to be excited at the prospect of a night of gambling, much as he tried to hide it. "There it is, ladies and gentlemen, the Tops."
There were too muscled bouncers at the door, armed with submachine guns, and with a radio at their belt to summon reinforcements if it proved necessary, their wide frames nearly bursting the white suits they wore. Their fedoras looked like they were too small for their heads. "Welcome to the Tops casino," the one on the right said. "Not carrying any weapons?"
"Nope," En said, holding out her hands to show she wasn't hiding anything.
"Just my charms," Melissa said, winking at the bouncer.
That did the trick, "Alright, go on in. Please enjoy yourselves."
Another "Welcome to the Tops casino," greeted them when they came into the lobby. "My name's Patrick Swank, you can exchange your caps for chips right here, and if there's any questions, anything you need, don't hesitate to call on me." Swank, En had heard that name before… Now where was it? Hm, it'd dawn on her soon enough. She handed him a hundred and twenty caps, and he exchanged them for casino chips. "If you're unfamiliar with casino rules, I'm at your disposal to answer all your questions."
"Uh… we've never been to a casino before," En said. "What are the rules?"
The handsome man at the reception desk gave her a wide, confident smile and said, "We want you to enjoy yourselves, miss. That means no weapons, no disruptive behaviour, and no refunds. And remember, even though we appreciate your patronage immensely, for your safety, you should always follow the guidelines of our casino staff."
"So just, like, act normal and things will be alright?" Watkins asked.
"That's exactly it, miss. You're our guests, and you'll receive all the benefits of our hospitality if you behave as such."
"We'll be good," Sunny said.
"I don't doubt it for a minute, ma'am," Swank assured, the smile on his face widening even more. "And I must say, that is a fabulous dress."
Sunny beamed. "I know, right?"
He gave them the same line the bouncers had to welcome them in. "Please enjoy yourselves."
They made to go in, but Meyers stayed where he was. "I've got one question, if I may?"
"Of course, sir. How can I help?"
His face critical, Meyers asked gravely, "What kind of scotch do you serve?"
Swank gave a clap of his hands. "Sir, I am glad you asked! We don't serve third-rate rotgut at the Tops, no siree Bob! We have the traditional cheaper blended whiskeys, which I'm sure are beneath the demands of an appreciator such as yourself, and also a selection of single malts that will make your taste buds feel like they're being caressed by an angel." He proceeded to name several whiskeys, Meyers nodding in approval at every one.
"I've heard enough," Meyer said. "Where's the bar?"
"Right through these doors, sir."
The Tops was laid out in an L-form. On the left side of the L were roulette tables, on the other side stood card tables. There were several bars scattered around the place, some set against the wall, others forming islands between the tables. Chandeliers with fake diamonds hanging from them lit the casino up, and the entire floor was decorated with green plants, fake gold railings, and wooden finishes. It was tacky beyond belief, but then again, that was the way casinos were supposed to look! There were players at every table, and plenty more people spectating or just strolling around, enjoying a drink or a chat or both. The clothes they wore ranged from pragmatic to opulent and everything in between. Every now and then, between the noise of the crowd and the games, a triumphant cry or a desperate groan could be heard.
En felt Watkins' nails dig into her shoulder, "Oooh, ooh, what are we doing first?"
"Well, I was really lucky at blackjack last time, so maybe we could do that?"
A shove in her lower back from Watkins. "Okay, let's go, let's go!"
"Do you know how to play?"
Watkins grinned sheepishly, "Sorta."
"Good enough." They were here to have fun, after all, and En didn't think it mattered to Watkins if she won or lost. "Let's go."
"I think I shall try my hand at a game of caravan," Ringo announced.
"Sure, hun?" Sunny asked with a face full of trepidation. "You and caravan aren't exactly the best of – "
"My luck has to change some day," Ringo simply said.
"Alright, hun, you know best."
"I'll be accompanying you ladies, if you don't mind?" Meyers said. Of course he'd be accompanying them. Couldn't stray too far from Watkins, the horny old devil.
"There's two seats, there's two seats," Watkins hissed, completely excited, rushing through the crowd to claim the rare free seats at the blackjack table, and almost pouncing on one of the stools. "I've got them, Ennie, come sit next to me!"
En was in a bit less of a hurry, and the seat was still perfectly available when she got there.
"Ladies, can I fetch you something to drink?" Meyers offered.
"Oh yah," En said, in the most posh accent she could muster. "Cola please, James."
"Beer beer beer," Watkins chirped, bouncing in her seat and immediately attracting the attention of every man at the table with her bouncy bits, and still not getting over the fact that she could actually drink beer now.
"Three beers then," Meyer said with a grin and wandered off to the nearest bar.
"Two new lady players," the dealer announced in a bored tone. "Soft 17 rules in play, resplit to four, no double after resplit. Faites vos jeux."
"Uh, what does 'fat for joe' mean?" Watkins whispered to En.
"It means you have to bet now." Oh dear, she was going to go down so hard. "Not too much on your first try." En split her off twenty chips to begin with. She'd at least be able to last a few games with that if she wasn't stupid. Ugh, not too stupid at least.
Watkins bet ten on herself. Right, she'd last two games then. After some consideration, En bet ten chips on herself as well. Why the Hell not.
After everyone had bet (surprisingly, no one had bet on either En nor Watkins), the dealer dealt two cards each. En got a face and a two to start, but Watkins immediately flipped her two cards over and announced, "Blackjack!"
Holy shit, she was right. The jack and the ace were actually there, grinning at everyone on the table.
"Natural twenty-one," the dealer announced. "Chair five."
"Yayyyy!"
Watkins' ten chips doubled, En's went down the shitter.
She wasn't as lucky in the next game though, unfortunately for her and the people who superstitiously bet chips on her, thinking she was a good luck charm, she bombed the next game, busting at twenty-five. En, on the other hand, took home the prize, standing at 19 when everyone else either went bust or stood to early, putting her back at twenty chips.
"Sorry about that one," she taunted Watkins, who shrugged and replied with a chipper, "I'm having fun, that's what matters."
She couldn't be more right.
A few more chips went in En's box this time, and Meyers was just in time to see it happen. "Bein' a little good luck fairy again, little lady."
"I fully intend to, yes," En said, amused.
More cards were dealt, En getting a natural 18 and standing. Watkins foolishly stood at 15 (overcompensating for the overconfidence in the previous game, most likely), and everyone else went bust. Cha-ching!
One other gambler tentatively slid five chips over to En's box.
"Little lady, you're going to be the terror of the gambling table if you keep this up," Meyers remarked behind her, sipping his scotch.
Unfortunately, she went bust on 22 right after, the guy who'd placed the chips in her box winning the hand. "You're jinxing it, old geezer," she said with a grin.
"My apologies, I'll keep the jinxing to a minimum."
As the dealer dealt two more cards, En could hear a triumphant cry from Sunny at the roulette tables, where she and Ringo had apparently moved on to after – most likely – another disastrous caravan game from Ringo.
"Looks like Sunny's totally cleaning up?" Watkins said to En, asking for a hit.
They played a few more games, Watkins lasting surprisingly long. It took seven more games before she was bankrupt, so she'd made the twenty chips last a long time. En came out ahead, her luck erratic but still shoring her up at a respectable thirty.
"Whew, that was fun," Watkins said. "Let's go do something else?"
"Sure. Play some roulette with Sunny and Ringo?"
"Awesome."
They said goodbye to the dealer, who didn't care much, and walked to the roulette-side of the casino. Roulette took absolutely no skill whatsoever, but En had been told the feeling of anticipation as the little ball ticked around in the spinning wheel was incomparable.
"Hey sweetie, look", Sunny said proudly, holding up a blue-rimmed chip. "How's that for doubling our money?"
Damn, she'd turned the twenty chips she'd started with into over a fifty. Go Sunny. "Whoo, Sunny!" she cheered. "It's the dress, brings you luck!"
"Maybe, maybe," Sunny said mysteriously.
En and Leza sat down at the table, Sunny treasuring her blue-rimmed chip as Ringo bet on black and lost. With a sigh, he remarked, "Well, there goes my last five." He looked utterly pitiable as the croupier's rake slid his chips off the board. En noticed this roulette wheel had numbers up to 42. Weren't they supposed to go just up to 36? Scumbag casino.
"Two new lady players," the croupier announced, putting his rake away. He made to spin the roulette wheel, but as he did so, Swank approached him and whispered something in his ear. En saw the croupier's eyes quickly brush over her, and then he nodded. Swank left the table, brushing past her, and he quietly said, "Thirty-eight's lucky this spin."
En was briefly caught unaware. But then she decided to risk it. "Uh… Sunny?"
"Mm?"
"Give me that blue chip, please?"
"Why, you want to hold it too?" Sunny said with a grin. The croupier seemed to be dragging his heels, wiping the roulette wheel with a cloth even though it was squeaky-clean already.
"No. Can I have it, please? Trust me?"
Gingerly, Sunny laid the chip in En's hand. Her face looked anything but trusting.
The croupier noticed she held the blue chip and gave the wheel a spin. "Faites vos jeux."
After a brief moment of doubt – Sunny would kill her if this went wrong – she slapped the chip down on the number 38.
"En, what the Hell are you doing?" Sunny breathed. "That's my – " her hand shot out to reclaim the chip, but En grabbed her wrist. "Trust me, Sunny. Please?" Watkins, Ringo and Meyers were struck dumb.
"Rien ne va plus, miss," the croupier warned Sunny with a frown. She was silent, mortified as the ball bounced around in the spinning roulette wheel for a few seconds that seemed like minutes.
Shit, shit, this had better been a good decision. For all she knew, that Swank guy was just messing with her. The ball ticked around as the wheel slowed.
Come on, baby, come on!
"Thirty-eight!"
YESSSSSS!
Sunny's face was completely flabbergasted. "Whuh… what the…"
"Holy shit, Ennie!"
"Congratulations, miss," the croupier said, a hint of a knowing smile on his face. "Duoquadragintuple payout."
En whooped. "How much?"
"Two thousand one hundred."
"This is… uncanny," Ringo breathed.
"Uncanny or not," Meyers said to that, "It's two thousand gift horses."
The croupier slid two gold-rimmed chips and one bronze-rimmed one to En. Swank reappeared next to her and whispered in her ear. "With compliments from Mr. House. For expenses."
At that moment Melissa walked in, thankfully alone, pinpointing them at their table and strolling lazily towards them.
"Oh my God, Melissa," Watkins hollered at her. "Ennie just, like, won two thousand caps!"
"Pull the other one."
"It's true," Ringo said. "Hard to believe as it may be."
"Uh, guys?" En said. "Let's discuss this somewhere else." It would be a very bad idea indeed to tell them what had really happened at the very same table where people had lost chips for not betting on 38.
"Somewhere else is the bar," Melissa decided. "I'm thirsty."
The bar it was. They exchanged the blue-rimmed chip for drinks and a few white chips in change and took stools. En made sure the serving girl was out of earshot, and then said, "the two thousand was a gift from Mr. House, for expenses. He wants his chip back pretty desperately, I guess."
Meyers chuckled. "I thought that Swank guy was acting weird around you."
"M-hm. So sorry, guys, I'm not supernaturally lucky."
Melissa shrugged. "Cash is cash, no matter where it's from. We can use this to buy some good gear, yeah?"
"Uh huh, ammo too."
"The hour groweth late," Ringo said. He was right, the casino was only half as crowded as before, and it was past midnight already. "I suggest we turn in?"
"Sure, yeah," En agreed. "It's been fun, but I don't think it'd be much appreciated if we stay here and try to beat even more money out of this casino's pockets."
They finished their drinks and headed back to the Vault 21 hotel. As they walked, En spotted Trenchcoat and Straw Hat in a dark corner, kissing passionately.
Seeing him gave En a terrible feeling. One she couldn't describe. It almost made her feel somehow... unreal.