Iron & Wine

Viva Las Vengeance (part 2)

Indeed, Eric and Louie hurried their way back to us from up the street, as if they were looking for us and they passed the café: the two of them with their collars undone and their pants undone as if they had just returned from a party of some sort.

Chuck stood to his feet, complete with the glass inside of his hand. I turned all the way in the chair for a glance over the top of the wall. The two of them looked so flustered, as if they had been running for quite a while before then. Naturally, I had questions for them.

Once they were right across from the café, Eric glanced about the street first and then he led Louie all the way: it took me a moment to notice that they were holding hands with one another, and my mind immediately flashed on that remark Ashley threw at me about the union between me and Chuck. They reached the side of the café and then they rounded towards the front door.

Louie held a little white piece of paper in one hand, and he handed it over to Chuck in particular. Eric let out a low whistle as he ran his fingers through his smooth inky black hair. They had in fact been running for a long time, after all.

"She lost a bet," Louie informed us, shocked and slightly mortified.

"What do you mean, she lost a bet?" Chuck demanded as he took the paper from him.

"Ashley lost a bet with her fiancé," he repeated. "She lost a bet that she had made with him—apparently, they had made a bet to see if she could resist getting down with one of us."

The two of them glanced over at me, horrified. I rested my hands on my knees and I parted my lips a bit for a bit of a sigh. Nothing could deny the feeling of revenge within me right then.

The desire to dominate her as well as James, all for doing this to me. The desire to reclaim myself, the desire for agency for myself. This body was mine and no girl and her fiancé were going to take it away from me.

"Let's get him," Chuck declared to us.

"Him?" Eric asked him. "Why him?"

Chuck glanced over at the counter on the other side of the room, and then he looked back over at me.

"I'll explain it later," he clarified. "In private."

Once our bellies were loaded up with smooth ice cream and root beer, Chuck and I followed Eric and Louie over to the main artery that was Las Vegas Boulevard and that welcome sign right smack in the middle of it. At that point, the night had already begun to blanket itself over the Strip and the lights themselves shone bright, all manner of crown jewels and golden coins there for us, as proper royal crown princes.

"Is there a reason why we're over here?" I asked Eric and Louie both.

"To give you a little absorption of sorts," the former told me over the roar of the traffic before us. "Lou and I both think that everyone who turns eighteen must make a pilgrimage to the Las Vegas Strip. It's like a Quinceanera of sorts, but with all the glitz and glamour and freedom. To ride the highest wave known."

The highest wave. His words rang throughout me as we made our way past the sign and towards the very heart and soul of the strip.

Though night had fallen over us, a part of me wanted to put on my sunglasses and fix my shirt. I was in Vegas, baby: I was the ultimate Vegas boy even if I had no money on my person to spend out on a roulette wheel. Then again, I had my own roulette wheel at the helm, and it came about in the form of Chuck and Eric's plan.

If we liked to gamble and bring it all to life, then we would be willing to take the gamble, nevertheless.

A little sneak attack on the two of them on their precious day, and one that came in the form of the glittering lights and the pungency of the traffic off to the side. To hand in our poker chips and let the ball roll along the rim of the wheel. To stare at the dealer dead square in the face and beg to him, "hit me" while we have a trio of cards that add up to sixteen.