9-Against All Odds
"Et tu, Brutus?" - Caesar
I go up to the top floor and try to swim to clear my head. The room is basically a glass dome, giving a 360 view of the city around me, and the sun blazes in with murderous intent. I feel woozy before too long and decide to go seek out that present that I probably should get Sango, sure, fine, whatever, when I remember that it's already late afternoon on a Sunday - everything will be closed.
Sliding back into my clothes, I realize that I haven't left the hotel since I got here.
My first time in Vegas and I haven't even prowled the town. It was practically a wet dream of mine all through my teens.
...of course, that was before I met my wife, but I'm not feeling very happily married right now.
I should go find Kohaku and suggest we hit a strip club or something...but the idea rings hollow; I'm not in any mood to see anyone dancing, I don't want to flirt, I don't even want a drink. Maybe we could just cruise down the strip to a Taco Bell or a burger joint or something.
Heading downstairs, the last satellites and finals rounds of the other, minor games are in full swing, and the crowd is so dense the air conditioner is having a hard time keeping up. It smells like sweat, smoke, old perfume and cologne, the ink on the cards, tension. I can see Kohaku -unattached this time- taking notes as he speaks to former Hold'em winner Phib Hellmaster; Kagura is a dealer for the final stages of the Omaha tournament section of the WSP, and she looks good as she turns the flops and burns.
I decide to toss in on another satellite, just to make sure I'm prepared for tomorrow, but in a few minutes I've lost five thousand dollars on bad calls and stupid moves. And I can't tell if the girly-looking guy across from me is checking out my chips or my chest.
"Naaa, McHoushi, I've heard so much about you!"
I'm in no mood for this.
"And you are?"
"Jakotsuuuuu Shichinintai."
"That's quite a last name."
"I could trade it for yours."Oh goody. Now I feel even sicker.
"I'm married, thanks."
"To a woman? What a shame!" We're dealt the next round of cards, and while the other players fold, Jakotsu keeps shifting them around in his hands as he gives me a look that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. "But it looks like she hasn't been taking very good care of you."
"Yeah, you look like you could use a drink." A big red-haired man named AGaav pushes his cards into the muck. "Or an IV."
What is this, destroy my ego totally day? To make it worse, my stomach growls, earning some snickers, and my cards are shit. Another thousand gone, and I think I need to eat and take a little perspective on my situation.
Kohaku is still talking, but he sees me and holds up his hand, mouthing "five more minutes." I nod, and join some of the railbirds watching to see who I'll be up against tomorrow. There's a lot of chatter, about the current plays, about earlier matches, trading celebrity spottings. I think I hear someone describing one of the players at a far table as "playing barefoot and pregnant," but that must be some kind of insult about their technique.
Moving back towards where I saw Kohaku, I nearly bowl over a woman with long red pigtails.
"Oops!" she chirps, her voice sing-songy and sweet. "I'm sorry, I'm such a klutz, I never look where I'm-Miroku!"
Her hug nearly knocks the wind out of me.
Friends from home, my attacker Ayame and her boyfriend Kouga -both demons- sometimes join Sango, InuYasha, Kagome and I for our games. Kouga is standing slightly behind her, talking to someone I don't recognize, but he looks up and gives me a wave.
"Oh, Miroku, we totally didn't know you were coming! I said to Kouga, 'I hope we see Miroku and Sango, it's been so long,' but with Sango pregnant and all, we thought you'd want to stay at home!"
I'm tired of dealing with this question, so I just offer a half-smile and a shrug.
"Did you see the results for the big one tomorrow? You and Sango are way up on the list! You're gonna get great spaces with some awesome people like Hellmaster and-"
I don't hear anything else but that name.
"Sango?" I interrupt. "Sango isn't here..."
Ayame gives me the same look Kohaku did, and suddenly I'm very, very frightened by what it might be saying.
"What are you talking about? Did you hit your head or something? She's right over there."
As if she was Moses and the people the Red Sea, she points and there's a parting, and suddenly it's all too clear.
Sitting at that far table, her knees bent, her feet propped up on a chair, and her free hand resting on her big round belly, is my wife.
My Sango.
Playing barefoot and pregnant, just like they said.
What is she doing here.
What is she doing here.
What is she doing here and why didn't anyone say anything, why didn't my friends tell me, why didn't SHE tell me, why didn't she come to my room and-
Ayame is backing away, realizing she's said something wrong, and Kouga stops his conversation to come over, putting his hand on my arm - my whole body is shaking.
"Dude, what's-"
I can't take it. I push him away and start forward, shoving people left and right, my eyes narrow, my vision blurring, all that I can see is that my wife is here, she didn't tell me, she yelled at me for coming and then she came too, she's barefoot and pregnant and not even looking at me, she's-
Someone is dragging me the opposite way and when I realize I start to fight.
"Let me fucking go, Kouga! GET OFF!"
But Kouga has always been stronger than me, and he won't be shrugged off so easily. He drags me into the lobby before I twist free, and Ayame is in the doorway to the game room, ready to play bouncer if I try to go back.
"FUCK!"
I whirl away and whip out my cell phone, pounding in InuYasha's number.
He answers on the first ring, but I won't let him get a word out.
"Mi-"
"Why didn=t you tell me?!" I scream. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?! You bastard, you knew she was here and you didn't tell me!"
"Look, man, we just found out, and we're on our way to the airport, okay? I can't talk, we'll be there in a few hours."
"Why didn't you call me IMMEDIATELY!? What kind of friend ARE you?!"
"Gotta go."
And he hangs up on me.
"FUCK!" I shout again, throwing a phone for the second time that day. It lands near the poster stand where the names of all the tournament qualifiers are written.
There I am, Miroku McHoushi, number 45.
And there she is, Sango McHoushi, 124.
And I am so angry. I am so hurt. I am broken and tired and hungry and lonely and furious and scared and betrayed and I do the only thing I can think of.
I pass out.
