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LAS VEGAS chapter ii. ❝ kotku, do you copy? ❞
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
He stared at her contact on his phone, thinking of texting her or not. Mustering up the courage he typed a simple message.
KOTKU, DO YOU COPY?
He was hoping she would get the joke—though she didn't. He remembered the night they played around with walkie talkies before getting wasted like it was yesterday. Suddenly, the ding of his phone brought him out of his thoughts and he got nervous. He answered the call with a smile on his face; second chance?
"What do you want?" Her voice sounded annoyed and stale. With the background noise of music (though too quiet and calming to be a party) and talking, he had assumed she was with some guy. His heart stopped that second, he felt saddened—she doesn't love me anymore.
"Can we just talk. Am sorry—" "Talk or get high Boris? Clearly you don't know the difference!" "Mladenets—" "No—I'll be in Vegas if you need me—boarding starts now." With the silence breaking Boris more than needed, he couldn't bare to shed a tear. He knew that if he wooed her over once again everything would be fine—but the problem was, did he want things to be fine? His heart was telling him to leave her but his mind was telling him to run after her to Vegas. Taking his mind off things he took another swig of vodka, though it only made his thoughts run more.
He wanted to bang his head against a wall and yell at himself for being so stupid. But he couldn't. That was his father's job.
With the mornings awakening, Juliette woke with a goal on her mind. The raffle; it was all she could think about. Saving her family from falling into poverty made her feel better about herself. Last night before she fell asleep she had packed clothes and other stuff into a backpack. Money was the only problem she had left. The backpack strap hung loosely on her left shoulder as she entered her sisters bedroom quietly, making sure to not wake the sleeping beauty. Juliette quickly found the box Gwen kept her extra money in; she knew Gwen had been collecting over the years but when she opened the box she was surprised to see the (small) stacks her sister had hid (and a bunch of change as well).
Juliette glanced at her sister to see her still sleeping, soft snores emitting from her mouth. Taking a few (like again, still very small but still, it was money) stacks and stashing them in her backpack (along with the tons of change as well). "Au revoir." With those words said, she walked out of Gwen's bedroom and went into the kitchen. Her parents didn't buy much or as in their words, "buy it yourself!" But Juliette still checked the fridge for a bottled water, but soon found nothing but a bag of deli meat and a few yogurts. Sighing in defeat, she slammed the fridge door shut and walked out of her house.
"Vegas, here I come."
Boris was arguing with himself by the time Kotku was already off the plane and living her best life in Vegas. He wanted to go after her, he really did, he just had one problem: money. He was practically broke. All the money he got selling drugs went to buying more. He cursed at himself; not such a great idea Borya! Though all he really needed was a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and alcohol and he was set. And so, that's what he grabbed. The pack of cigarettes and the lighter stayed in the pocket of his black jacket; and when he would glance down at his pocket to make sure he actually did put them in there, the white bold letters of NEVER SUMMER that were scribbled on his shirt,hurt his eyes. He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and headed out the door.
When he got to the bus stop, the splitting headache he had was already gone but his tipsy self was back again. He threw the empty bottle of whiskey in the grass behind the bench he was sitting on.
So he waited for the bus to come back into his small town of Middleton, Wisconsin. With the hours passing and only one cigarette gone, he wondered what time the bus was coming. In the short hours Boris sat waiting, he walked around and scavenged change so he could pay for his bus ticket. $2.00. Counting the change scattered in his hand, it added up to $2.13; perfect. By the time he made it back to the bus stop, people were already loading on. He gave the driver—what looked to him a 50 year old virgin—his change and picked a seat. Where he sat was in the left second row, the number 3 above the window.
Boris sat in his seat, yearning for another cigarette but they weren't allowed, and he knew he wasn't going to get kicked off of the bus after all the work he did to get in it. "Pierdolić," he whispered.
"Next stop! Marshfield!"
"Ugh!" Juliette groaned as she looked around the big wall that was filled with different chips. They didn't have her favorite; the lays sour cream and onion. Settling for the barbecue flavor, she went to checkout. She checked out (and at last minute, remembered to grab a water bottle) and headed to the bus stop. She didn't know what time the bus was going to come, but she knew it was going to be soon. Juliette knew the route by now after she planned to run away so many times but out of fear of leaving her sister, stayed.
The small bag of chips and water stay stuffed in her backpack as she got suspicious with the people around her waiting (most looked like homeless drug addicts to her), she didn't want her money (well, her sisters—) to go to waste.
It was around 10:45 when the bus came, the big bold letters of MARSHFIELD at the top, but it quickly changed to LAS VEGAS. A smile came upon her face, the idea of her soon-to-be-perfect life flooding in. She got up from the ground where she was sitting (she couldn't bare sit next to the homeless who was taking up the whole bench) and slowly started her way up into the bus. Giving the man her exact change of $2.00, she scanned for an open seat, only finding one (that wasn't by homeless) in row three.
"Excuse me," Juliette said, getting the attention of the boy. "May I sit with you? Sitting next to a homeless pervert really isn't on my agenda today." The boy showed no emotion and just nodded, signaling that she could take the seat next to the window. "I'm Juliette," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake after she sat down.
His death glare traveled over to her, his voice making Juliette confused (what accent is that?), "Boris." "Well, nice to meet you Boris." He hummed in response.
This is going to be a great trip, Juliette thought.
