A grumpy old man trudged into his favorite bar. Its floorboards creaked, like they always did, and the neon sign above the bar crackled and flickered, like it always did. The best part of this dive was that it never changed, for better or for worse. The same beefy men worked the bar; the same older, rounder men worked as maintenance. The same man with a voice low and gravelly introduced the singers, the same that performed every night on their small, shabby stage.
Husk ordered what he always did, a Black Russian, and sat where he always sat. The second to last seat on the left side of the bar, close enough to the stage to listen to the songs he liked, and far enough to tune it out and chat with the bartender.
"Never change, Husk, never change." The bartender chuckled while mixing a cocktail. "On the house." He slid the drink to the man and tapped the counter before tending to other patrons. Same old, same old.
Husk gazed into his reflection on his drinking glass. He'd been going to this bar for decades, and as much as it remained unchanged, he didn't. Hints of gray were scattered in his pushed back hair and half-groomed beard, messy after a long day of work. He adjusted a loose suspender and unbuttoned the top button on his white shirt.
The lights in the bar dimmed slightly to pull attention to the stage. Husk always arrived just in time to see his favorite artist, a similarly grumpy man who sung the oldies. He watched the announcer waddle onto the stage — he never could walk the same after so many knee surgeries — and tap his microphone.
"This thing on?" The same routine. "Buona sera! I know we're all clamoring and gettin' ready to tune ol' Allen out," The crowd laughed, and Husk took his first sip of the night. "But don't get black-out drunk just yet!"
A make-shift spotlight roared to life, controlled by one of the maintenance men. That was new, Husk thought. They hardly used that old thing. The crowd 'ooh'd.
"Ol' Allen's come down with a bad case of the flu and couldn't fill his usual spot." Disappointed groans and interjections came from the bar. Husk grumbled. "But, this darlin' dame came to us in our time of need, like an angel floating down from the clouds!"
The announcer snatched their attention back and took a deep breath. "Coming to us all the way from New York, a gal with a voice smooth as butter and hips curvier than Lombard Street, Angel Dust!"
He stuck the microphone onto its stand while the crowd clapped and cheered. The spotlight moved off of the announcer, who waddled off the stage as quickly as his legs would let him, and towards the right side.
A trumpet let out a sharp high note as the woman's leg shot onto the stage. She sauntered onto the stage with the same trumpet player highlighting each of her steps. Nobody noticed the inhouse band following in behind her, the entire bar had their eyes trained on her.
Even the jaded old man, grumpier than when he walked in, couldn't keep his eyes off of her.
Angel Dust was adorned with a magenta halter dress that clung tightly to her upper body and hung all the way to her ankles. The left side was slit so she could show off her pale legs when she wanted to, stopping right at her upper thighs. Rings of solid gold glimmered in the spotlight, fed up with the darkness. A real pearl necklace brought attention to her face. Her lipstick matched her dress to a T. Three pink dots were under each of her eyes, bringing more attention to her magenta eyeshadow.
Everything about her was smooth. She could walk right through a thunderstorm and end up dry. She reached out towards the microphone with her long arms, slender fingers intertwining as she leaned in to sing.
Husk's eyes were caught in her stunning cobalt ones, and she gave him a wink.
Husk kept up his poker face.
Angel's blonde hair was done in victory curls that sat like a crown atop her head, there wasn't a single strand out of place even as she poured her heart out. She was able to make the out of tune band sound top of the line, swagger bursting out of every note she sang.
Her graceful moves became arrogant as she ripped the microphone out of its holder, strutting along the edge of the stage, capturing as much attention as she could.
Warm colors flurried across the stage rolling with the ebbs and flows of the music. Reflections of light from her jewelry broke off into the darkness of the room. She spun into a tornado and stormed across the stage, lightning crackling from her song.
The storm passed and the music slowed, earning a prompt applause from the crowd. Husk was impressed, lightly slapping his thigh along with the audience.
She sauntered off the stage, microphone in hand. Howls and whistles tried to catch her attention. Angel teased and danced around some of the patrons, running fingers across their chests and taking sips of their drinks, intentionally staining the glasses with her lipstick.
Angel's eyes shot towards Husk's, trying to get every bit of his attention. He was the only man in the bar who wasn't frothing at the mouth. Angel hid her frustration. She'd been bothered by him when they first locked eyes.
Husk could almost sense it. He was used to her type by now, he'd seen and heard it all.
Angel took his bait. She should have every drunkard in this bar clinging to her fingers for dear life, but this washed up old man at the bar was idly sipping at his drink like he was waiting for her act to finish.
She waltzed up to him, lowering her voice and sliding his hand on her hip. He sandbagged her, hand threatening to fall back to his lap if she let go. Angel guided it back to him and then let her fingers crawl up his shirt to wrap his loose tie around her hand.
Angel pulled Husk in close with his tie and blew a kiss at him between lines.
He didn't budge.
She had to stop her eye from twitching. The performer gave up, lightly pushing him away before reintroducing her confident flourish to the song.
Angel never worked hard to get drunk idiots to start barking at her, and wasn't about to embarrass herself trying to woo this impotent grandpa.
Said grandpa finished off his cocktail and had to snap to get the bartender's attention for a refill.
Angel Dust performed a few more songs before her act was over. Even after all of it, Husk couldn't see a single drop of sweat on her. She looked as if she'd just got out of the dressing room.
She blew kisses and waved into the roaring crowd as she exited stage left.
Husk hadn't seen the bar this lively in...well, forever. It would've melted his crusty old heart if it wasn't so loud. He finished his second round and slid it back.
"Alright. I'm done for the night." He grumbled and stepped out of his seat.
"Already? You've only been here an hour." The bartender quirked a brow at his patron.
"Yeah. Got a headache. I'm getting old, Gary." Husk rolled up his sleeves.
"You've got 20 years left at least!" Gary laughed and took his drink. "Enjoy your night, pal."
"I'll try; you try harder." He lazily waved at the bartender while stepping away.
.
Cars raced past the bar to head deeper into the city of sins, blowing his hair into even further disarray. He ran a single hand through it as he walked behind the bar. He stood by the employee entrance and pulled a beaten up pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
He flicked his busted lighter a few times before the flame came to life. The smallest breeze could snuff the sputtering flame, so he shielded it with his hand and brought it closer to the stick in his mouth.
Husk took a long drag and tucked his lighter back into his breast pocket. The smoke floated towards the minuscule cluster of stars in the sky, hardly visible from all of the light pollution. The Stratosphere Tower's light seemed like it reached all the way out here. You could see it far in the distance from the street Husk had walked from.
Ashes fell onto the concrete, prompting Husk to knock the rest into the used ashtray sitting on the steps that lead up to the door.
Muffled sounds of a struggle and flesh falling against wood stopped Husk from taking another hit of his cigarette. There was a loud bang, and a voice could be heard directly behind the door.
"Don't you ever fuckin' touch me again!" Another bang, "Fuckin' disgustin' piece a' shit!" More yelling.
The voice was unfamiliar to Husk, who elected to take another hit of his cigarette anyway. It was all coming from inside the bar. Whatever was going on in there wasn't good, but it wasn't any of Husk's business. If he was in the room with them, sure, he wouldn't have let whatever happened slide, but walking into the back area without any context of the situation was a bad idea. He'd played hero before; it never ended well.
The situation came to him. The door swung open and slammed against the brick wall, and a figure in a magenta dress stormed out of the bar, makeup still intact, heels and wig in hand.
"Don't show your goddamn face here ever again, Anthony!" A gravelly voice yelled.
Husk almost dropped his cigarette. He heard the announcer's voice. The figure on the steps yelling back was the drag queen who had been performing not ten minutes ago.
"Go fuck yerself!" He held up a middle finger, "I'll burn this shitty fuckin' bar to tha ground, you limp dick asshole!" Anthony growled as he slammed the door shut.
The fuming singer took a seat on the bottom step and ripped a cigarette out from between his padded chest and a lighter from his purse.
"Stupid...dirty fuck..." He mumbled a curse as his lighter failed. Angel yelled and chucked his lighter against the floor. It broke into pieces and scattered across the concrete. He ran a shaky hand through his blonde hair. An aggravated sigh pushed around the cigarette between his lips.
Husk blew his smoke behind him and approached Anthony.
"Need a light?" He looked down at him.
Anthony got a look at the man in front of him. He wore a white button-up, the top two buttons undone, with suspenders helping hold up his black dress pants. The neon lights outside glowed faintly against his brown skin and highlighted the gray hairs scattered across his head and face.
"...Yeah." Anthony's eyes failed to meet his. It was just his luck that the same john who had first pissed him off was out here.
Husk leaned down and held his cigarette firmly in his mouth before pressing it against Anthony's. It only took a second for Anthony's cig to catch Husk's flame.
"Thanks..." The singer mumbled.
"Don't mention it." Husk took a seat next to Anthony.
Anthony remained silent and took a long drag of his cigarette. He held it between his teeth and stuffed his hands in his dress, taking out his fake breasts and shoving them in his flipped open a hand-mirror and blew his smoke away from it, checking for any imperfections his altercation might have caused.
"There's no easy way to bring this up, so..." Husk started, "What happened in there?"
Anthony grimaced and started to wipe off his eyeshadow with makeup wipes. "That greaseball scumlord dirtbag piece a' shit kept fuckin' grabbing my ass whenever I passed him." He paused to inhale more nicotine. "And I let him the first few times-" He turned his head and exhaled "But he wouldn't take the fuckin' hint that I wasn't interested, so I told 'em off."
"I take it he didn't appreciate that."
"No. So he got fuckin' pushy, started pulling at my dress, and I slapped him harder than I'd ever hit anybody."
"That I heard." Husk reached over Anthony to tap his cigarette against the ashtray. "Sorry that happened."
"Nothin' I ain't used to. Can't sweat it." Angel shrugged and put his stuff away.
Husk kept quiet. Once they had both put their cigarettes out, Angel pushed back his hair and sighed.
"Alright, honey, what'll it be?" Angel laid a hand on Husk's, who gave him a confused look.
"What?"
Angel rolled his eyes. "Look, I know how this goes. You play the sweet guy checkin' on me so you don't look like a douche just looking for some ass." Agitation lingered in the air as he continued, "So let's skip the rest of tha bullshit, stop playin' dumb, and just tell me what ya want so I can get a quick buck and go home."
Husk pulled his hand away and hid it in his pocket. "Christ, no. I just figured you needed a listening ear."
Angel's eyes almost fell out of his face with how hard he rolled them this time. "Oh my god. I just told ya to skip the bullshit, I don't care."
Husk stood up and buttoned his still-open shirt. "I'm serious."
Angel finally met his eyes again. Those dark brown eyes weren't hiding any lecherous intentions behind them. Angel cringed and stared into his llap.
The shorter man wanted to comfort him in some way, but no words came to mind. He was a little shocked, the younger man had just been complaining about being harassed, and then was ready to take in Husk as a client. It sent a chill down his spine.
"I've got a tamer offer for you," Husk pulled up his sleeves and straightened them out. "You've got a helluva voice. I run a casino down by the Strip, and if you're ever short on cash, I'll get you a spot on the stage."
Angel looked up at him. "What?"
Husk fixed his collar and pushed his suspenders up with his thumbs. "Nine Lives Casino. Swing by; I'll make room for you." He restated his proposition.
"...Really? But you just met me!" The blonde couldn't hide his suspicions.
"Don't need to know much about you to recognize you've got talent for things other than sellin' yourself behind dive bars." Husk gave Angel his lighter.
"...Thank you." Angel hesitated.
"I'll be seein' you then." Husk turned and strolled off towards the street.
Angel watched him until he disappeared around a corner, and watched that corner still. He closed his agape jaw and examined the lighter he was given. It was old and bent. Angel ran his thumb down the sparkwheel and watched the flame slowly come to life.
He didn't know entirely how to feel. Grateful for the offer, embarrassed by their miscommunication, angry about the creep he dealt with, vulnerable from telling this random about it.
Anthony didn't even know this guy's name.
The flame sputtered out.
Sliding his heels back on, Angel stood and hung his purse on his shoulder. He was sure he had about $120 in his wallet after that show, but he could only afford one more night at the hotel he was staying at.
It looked like Vegas had a lot more to offer him than he first thought.