Vegas, Baby!

MoshPit

Kssshhhhhh

That single simple sound sealed his fate. The Greyhound bus roared off, stranding Christian DuBois in the center of the brightest city in the U.S; Los Vegas. He reached into his overnight bag for his camera and began excitingly snapping photos. Dignity be dammed! He was a tourist and by golly, he was going to act like one. He realized to late that he hadn't any film. Or money to buy film. Or a place to stay, even. His whole future looked a bit muddled at this point, but then, his life with Maggie Ann was a bit muddled, too. He couldn't remember exactly why he left, although he did know that the phrase "And don't you come back until you can bring back Muffy!" was uttered.

Curse that dog. He couldn't bring her back, of course. You don't get hit with a car at that speed and just bounce back. He remembered the type of car, too. A mustang convertible painted a blindingly bright cherry red. A car very much like the one coming towards him now…

Within seconds, Christian was on the ground, contemplating the exact moment he stepped into the street. He couldn't recall ever leaving the sidewalk, but he must have. Either that, or the owner of the mustang was a really bad driver.

"Hey kid!" a voice called to him. "You alright?" Christian pushed himself to a sitting position. His knee throbbed, screaming at him to be more careful. It would swell, he was sure of that, but he doubted any thing was broken.

He nodded his head, then turned to look at the driver. He was a thin man, with a finely trimmed beard and long hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, both streaked with gray. Not a single part of him looked out of place, and he seemed completely normal, if you looked past the fact that he shook like a humming bird pumped with caffeine.

"You need any thing?" he asked again. Christian nodded again. "Hop in."

"I don't think that's-"

"Look, kid, either get in the car or move, 'cause in about ten seconds I'm gonna floor it, and if you aren't out of the way…" he let his voice trail off, leaving the stunned young man to fill in the blank. Christian pushed himself to his feet, snatched up his bag, and hobbled over to the car. He simply couldn't limp his way through Vegas, he figured, and he might even be able to weasel a place to stay out of the man.

No sooner had he slammed the door shut did the car take off. They flew down the streets, and heaved around corner after corner. It was all Christian could do to keep himself inside the car. As they rounded another corner, a cell phone rang, and the speed demon snatched it up quickly without missing a beat. Christian stared at the man in awe and listened to the odd conversation.

"Doc here. Yeah, I know. Uh huh. Uh huh. Zippy? Shut up. First of all; why are you touching my light board? Never touch the light board! I don't mess with your sound system, and you don't touch my lights. Second; breathe, babe. I set the cues during rehearsal yesterday, remember? Third; don't you dare preach to me about how tonight has to be perfect. I'm not the one strutting my stuff for Dukeham. If little Miss Broadway misses her cue, it ain't 'cause of my lighting. Oh, and one other thing- Ask Manuel to have a bucket of ice ready when we get their, and tell Tunces I need to speak with him. Later Zips."

Doc clipped the phone closed and hurled it into the back seat. "You got a place to stay?" he asked. Christian shook his head. "You can stay with Tunces then. I know he has a spare room." He regarded Christian for a moment, looking the young man over. "You don't talk much, do you?" Christian gave him a weak smile, his mind running a mile a minute.

"Where are we going?" he said finally, voice cracking. Doc grinned, the kind of grin you see on maniac axe murderer's before they plead guilty in court.

"A great little place called Moulin Rouge. You'll love it." He flipped on the radio, and Elvis escorted them on their way.

Vivaaaaaa Los Vegas! Vivaaaaaaaa Los Vegas! Vivaaaaaaa! Vivaaaaaa!…