This is the second update I have posted tonight! If this is the first update you are reading, go back and check the previous chapter to make sure you haven't missed it!
I made the decision to listen to Nat King Cole while writing. They say that love's a word, a word we've only heard, but can't begin to know the meaning of...
After walking back to the Lucky 38 under the scrutinising scopes of securitrons and drunk patrons, they made it to their suite hesitantly. Not knowing what awaited them, they were shocked to find that their room was almost as big enough to fit a large family. The open space scared Annie a little; almost feeling suffocated with a large buff of selfishness. They didn't need that much room for just the two of them… they could have housed a group of refugees with the amount of doorways she could see.
Backing into the main bedroom together, they shut and locked the door behind them, placing a chair underneath the doorknob for an extra alert if someone tried to break in. It hadn't felt like that at the Wrangler… the lone casino was just creepy.
Out of habit, they fell asleep together on the plush quilts of the king size bed; Boone cradling his rifle and Annie curled up facing the other way, pillows shoved between them like a wall.
The morning after, Boone found himself waking late again. Checking the ticking clock on the wall, he found it read only 8am. Two hours day light wasted, he thought, only to remind himself that he was now on the Strip. People were only just going to bed there.
When he decided to pull himself out of bed, he peeped his head out from a crack in the door. Eyes adjusting to the artificial lighting, Boone found Annie fluttering around the apartment, gasping at the carved wooden tables and muttering over the expansive wardrobes. She even laughed happily at the bathtubs, touching the cool porcelain with shaky fingers.
"What did we do to deserve this?" She asked, turning to find him leant against the door frame, watching her with a tense amusement.
"I have no idea." He was confused himself, never seeing such a clean environment before. It was like a pre-war holotape in that casino, not even a stain on the walls... Annie turned on the tap, jumping as the water burst through the spout. Her eyes were wide, slowly looking up at Boone with a pure and unbridled excitement.
"It works." Her pipboy stayed silent, only adding to the girls growing enjoyment. "Oh, and it's not radiated… Oh Boone, did we somehow die in our sleep last night? This is far too good to be true."
He watched as she pulled her dress over her head, throwing it to the tiles by her feet. Her eyes glanced up at him, not really expecting him to leave but knowing he would. She bit her lip, and just as she started to unclip her bra he felt confident that she didn't bother him. He leant over and pulled her curtain closed, heading back into the entrance to secure the rest of the suite.
Annie sure did scrub up well when she tried. She had spent an hour in that bath, emptying the tub and refilling it when the water turned murky. After that, she spent another hour sorting through the abandoned dresses in the cupboards that burst with an abundance of fabrics. Whoever had lived there before them must have left quickly, or hadn't really left at all. The thought made her uncomfortable, but she shook it off.
Boone hadn't actually seen her without dirt on her face, so when she appeared fresh-faced in a house dress she had found, he had to double take.
"Look at me! Aren't I the prettiest thing you've ever seen?" She teased, looking into a dusty mirror, swiping her palm over it to get a better look. "If I curl my hair, I'll look like all the other women around."
Skipping over to her pack, she returned with Jeannie-Mae's entire collection of make up and a playing card. She cooed over the bottles and cases, holding them too her face and nodding at them in reference to the woman gracing the Jack of Spades. Checking over his rifle, Boone watched out of the corner of his eye, wondering why women went through such a rigid routine to look decent for people who usually didn't care. Carla did it all the time, and Boone always teased her for it...
He sighed.
"I want to look like those women on the billboards. They're the type of women a man from the Strip would go for, right?" Turning to face him, she pushed her bangs off of her forehead. "You reckon it'd be a turn off if this ugly thing ever showed its face?" She touched the scab gingerly, feeling the skin easily give under the weight of her finger. "I actually regret having a bath, now I feel I have to look nice."
She always talked about the least important things. It was like she had a problem.
"You should take me around the Strip today. You've been here before, right?" She asked, squinting at the card to grasp the concept of the painted woman's make up.
"I don't really know the place…" He stretched his back, still a little asleep. "Most of my time here was spent drunk or… hmm." He trailed off, sighing again. The city seemed to suck the life out of him, or at least whatever was left of him. All it did was wake the ghost of Carla, and she was pounding on the basement door.
"Ah." She recoiled. "Well, um…" She turned back to face the bench, awkwardly reinstating herself with the eye shadow swatches. "I'll just go by myself. I'll bring you back something to eat if you'd like?"
He didn't answer her, staring intently at the patterns of her dress. She walked away, never really knowing what to do when he did that. The whole situation caused her to become uncomfortable, struggling to find a reason to ever shut herself down mentally like he did.
Pulling off the pretty dress, she traded it for a much simpler version, vehemently wishing that her companion had turned himself on again. She knew she was lying to herself, letting a sad breath seep from her lips as she strapped her knife and cigarettes to her thigh. Annie adjusted her stockings and dug around in the cupboard for hair rollers, hoping to pass the time with a bit of appearance tinkering.
Finally free of the sodden casino, Annie set out for facts. She hoped that the layers of make up and nice clothing would cover up who she really was. She concealed her scars as best she could; forcing her hair over her shoulders in loose curls in attempt to ook semi-decent but still keep her past a secret. She'd never spoken to a rich man before – it was daunting. What if they didn't go for women like her..? What if they went for classy, mature women and not rough-talking wasteland walkers?
The Gomorrah looked like 6 the last place she wanted to go. That gave her some confidence, trying to confirm with her brain that she wasn't as bad as she thought she was. If the Gomorrah didn't interest her, then that had to say something nice about her, right?
Deciding against the Ultra Luxe due to the pretentious looking fountain, Annie found herself heading towards the Tops. She was almost drowning in curiosity, wondering what the man who had shot her saw every day. The roof was lined with LEDs, sending bursts of light to fight the arriving darkness of the evening. The Strip was just warming up, customers flooding into casinos and over to prostitutes, NCR soldiers still fresh-faced and ready for a big night. The atmosphere gave her a buzz.
Apprehended at the door, Annie was greeted by a man in a sharp suit.
"Welcome to the Tops, ma'am. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but you're going to have to hand over all your weapons."
"You're free to frisk me, but I don't think you'll find anything." She spoke smartly, the man grinning at her. He took in the shape of her bodice - a girl of her looks could smuggle nothing harmful in, he reasoned. She seemed like another one of those charming women that passed through the Tops from time to time. The guys loved those type of gals, so he ushered her through.
Making a beeline to the front desk, she curled her fingers around the counter top, leaning over to catch the attention of a fine-looking man.
"Hey there, baby." The man caught her eye, standing handsomely straight and professional. The vibe Annie caught off the gentleman gave her full permission to turn on the show. "Welcome to the Tops, and what can I do for you today?"
"I'd like to know how I can get a good-looking guy like you to ask a gal like me out on a date." She grinned at him, hand swinging to her hip. "But I'd also like to know a little more about this casino. You look like a man of power – I bet you're the one that runs the show."
"Ain't been on the Strip long, have you kitty cat? The name's Swank, and this is my joint." His face lit up with prospects, blue-grey eyes skimming over her face with approval.
"You seem like a number one guy, Swank. You must have all the thoughts I need." Licking her bottom lip, she stared up at him with eyes blazing with a flirtatious fire. "But I wasn't kidding about that date, fella, where's your sense of chivalry?"
"You sure are a persistent dame," he winked at her "if you let me finish up here, I'll show you the finest bar this side of Vegas, baby."
She smiled, her painted lips parting to show her teeth. The man winked at her again, shutting the book he was writing in and offering his arm.
A swing band played over the speakers, the casino bursting with an array of different gamblers. The man on her arm directed her towards the bar, talking happily about the decor and greeting other Chairmen with long drawled 'hey's. Every so often Annie would make a point of sending him that same grin she won Boone with, and it worked wonders.
Swank seemed heavily interested in her, spinning off casual compliments and letting his gaze swing from her eyes to her mouth, and straight back to her thick black hair. It wasn't often that a woman of such prowess fell right into his lap; usually he had to work for it. He had a great feeling that this girl would do him great.