Electric Church

     I’m blinded almost. Flashing, glaring, loud, and gaudy, this city never ceases to speak to me. As warm and inviting as it tries to be, loneliness seeps into the cracks of your soul. It calls you in with promises of riches and glory, but sucks dry whatever you have left of your life, tearing pride, respect, love and family away from you. And still the sheep will flock and graze, selling all they have to the highest bidder for some false hope of redemption.

     This is my home, this electric church, and I’ll never leave it. At the core of our existence, we’re exactly the same: bitter and empty. This is my Las Vegas.

     Following behind a discarded flyer blowing lazily down the Strip on this warm summer evening, I watch the thousands of tiny, flickering lights that the city is famous for slowly turn on. Tourists and regulars alike move en masse towards the casinos. Women clad only in feathers, colored in bright pinks, greens, and blues, stand at the entryways, handing out coupons and flyers with toothy grins. The electronic sounds of the slot and video poker machines emanate from all sides, mixing with that of coins falling into greedy plastic cups. The sun finally sinks below the distant horizon, but nothing dims. The real business is about to begin.

     I see my destination loom before me and join the crowd sidling in under the yellow flashing “The Golden Doubloon” sign. Pirates growl at me, though barely audible above the din, as I pass through the lobby into the casino, and I give them a warning glare. They uncomfortably move off to harass other guests, their fake eye patches not hiding their wariness. The cocktail waitresses in exaggeratedly small barmaid outfits know to keep away already. I go past the retired old men and women seated religiously at the one-arm bandits and the relatively younger, more social crowd at the blackjack tables. In a dark corner in the back, there is a well-concealed door, hinted at by only a faint outline in the golden wallpaper and pirate ship trim. I knock on it a few times lightly, and moments later it cracks open just enough for me to slip behind it.

     The quiet of the hall is a sharp contrast to the casino outside and I give my eyes and ears a minute to adjust. I note that everything seems to glow an eerie shade of red, from the walls to the lights to the carpet. Moving forward, there is nothing along the hallway, save for a door at the very end. The bare walls are almost as unnerving as their color. I approach the door, subconsciously double-checking that my gun is in its holster. Then I knock. And wait.

     A deep, gruff voice comes from behind the painted-red wood paneling. “Who’ssit?” he slurs.

     “I’m a friend. Marcella Beatrix. I’m expected.”

     The door creaked open, as the hidden one did before it, but this time a large, burly man stood behind it. I nod to him off-handedly, my attention immediately commanded by the figure seated at an ornate oak desk. I step into the vast and lavishly decorated office, everything still the same red hue as the hallway outside.

     “Hello, Marcella,” a medium-deep female voice greeted. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other, lover.”

     I smirk. She’s always been like this, for as long as I’ve known her. It’s seductive, her voice. It’s what drew me to her all those years ago in Sydney. Didn’t help that it’s such a damn romantic city. Must be why I left.

     “You’re right, Daisy. It has been too long,” I reply, unable to contain a bit of sarcasm. “It’s a wonder I stayed away like I did.”

     “Now now, darling, no need to be so harsh. You’ve always been welcome company, no matter our past. I was never one to carry a grudge.”

     “I never said you were the one who carried the grudge.”

     “Fair enough.” She gets up and moves out from behind her desk. Her plain black dress seems to cling in all the right places, making my breath catch in my throat. Half her face was cast in shadow by her long blonde hair, and her bright pouty red lips stand out against her fair skin. Memories flash through my mind of the first time I laid eyes on her, and she doesn’t look as if she’s aged a day.

     Daisy approaches me, her face too close to mine for comfort and her devilish grin looking so delicious. A stray passionate thought flutters wildly before me until I regain my composure a second later. I take a step backwards.

     “You might be exactly the same as the day I left, but I’m not the person you once knew and loved. My feelings for you are long gone and buried.”

     A look of disappointment and disgust flash over her face and she turns away suddenly. “You are so stubborn, Marcella. You always have been. If there’s one thing I always tried to get you to do, it was to loosen up. Have a little fun. Enjoy life. But you just let everything pass you by…” Her voice trails off.

     I sigh and slump into a nearby chair, as Daisy faces me once again, perching on the front end of her desk.      “I mean, look at you,” she continues. “You’re such a natural beauty… and you wear that?” She gestures emphatically at my black trench coat and loosely cut black pantsuit. “Plus, you have no make up on! And that gorgeous, thick black hair is going to waste in a plain ponytail. My good—“

     “I didn’t come here to get criticized on my life and my fashion sense,” I interrupt. “I’d appreciate it if we took care of business so that I could just leave.”

     She looks hurt. I know she’s feigning it. She doesn’t have a sensitive bone in her body. I stand up to show my impatience, and she finally moves back behind her desk to open a drawer. She pulls out a piece of paper.

     “That’s it?” I ask.

     “Yes. Signing that gives you rights to half the deed of this hotel and casino, since we founded it together.”

     “Half the deed! I thought I was only getting the fair share of the profits from my time here…”

     “You caught me in a generous mood.”

     “What’s the catch, Daisy?”

     “What catch…?”

     “Daisy…” I warn menacingly.

     “No, no, darling. Seriously, there is no catch. Really. Read the document.”

     I do so, from top to bottom, not missing a letter of the fine print. She’s right. There is no catch. But it still doesn’t feel right to me.

     “Why are you doing this?”

     She smiles politely. “It’s only fair, my dear. This is still our hotel, after all. Our relationship may have ended a long time ago, but this is our legacy.”

     I raise an eyebrow at her, still hesitating.

     “Please, Marcella…”

     I grit my teeth and sign the paper. Daisy could get anyone to sign their life away to her. All she had to do was ask.