Dahlia

Groups of people file through the lobby, dressed in all kinds of ways. I always thought that casinos were super fancy, like a scene out of a James Bond movie, but a lot of these people look like they're going to watch their kid’s T-ball game or something. Then again, other people look like they're going to church. It's a wide variety of people, with wide variety of means. Some of them look really well-off and ready to drop a thousand dollars like it’s no big deal, and some of them look like they’re just here for the ambience, happy to spend an hour or so playing penny slots.

I spot Bunny through the glass doors as she exits her Uber. She's dressed in a short black shift with a plunging neckline. The rows of bangles stacked up her lower arms glitter as she walks toward me.

“Holy shit, you look amazing,” I tell her honestly. “You didn't have to get dressed up for me.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “I did not get dressed up for you, Dahlia. I just got dress up for… you know. This swanky cosmopolitan lifestyle. It's a thing.”

“You showed up in an Uber,” I remind her. “Not a Rolls Royce.”

“Whatever,” she sighs, tucking her pocketbook under her arm. She sways back and forth, letting her eyes investigate me critically.

“That’s a cute dress,” she remarks.

“It's got pockets.”

“Oh my God, what is it with you and pockets?” she huffs. “Lots of dresses have pockets.”

“No, for your information, most dresses don't have pockets. Pockets mean I can carry stuff and I don't have have to carry a purse. Pockets are good if you need to, you know, be ready for action.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say,” she says. “Like, what kind of action do we need to be ready for? More stalker stuff?”

Pivoting, we start to follow the flow of traffic. I try to keep my voice at a confidential level.

“No, the stalker stuff is… well, it’s not an issue anymore.”

“Oh my God, that’s a relief!” she sighs. “I hope your boyfriend can be a little less overbearing huh? Maybe crack a smile from time to time?”

“Ha! Maybe. That would be nice.”

We walk through the casino, sticking to the main hallway. I squint at the overhead signs that point the way toward the amphitheater where Kirkman is playing so we can get to the VIP room.

The casino floor is extremely noisy, confusing displays of lights, sudden bursts of noise as people yell about their jackpots, and slot machines that make deafening eruptions of sound.

The room is gigantic and lavish. There must be thousands of people in here and it seems to go on forever. The carpet is crazy — I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it before. It has swirling harlequin patterns in reds and golds and black. Huge chandeliers glitter over our heads among hundred of small globes for the security cameras. A waitress offers us a drink and we shake our heads politely and move on.

Between the noise and all the excitement and all the people, coupled with the patterns and the blinking lights, the space is extremely confusing. I don't know how people can work here, having the sensory overload day in and day out.

And yet, I kind of want to see what it's like. I hope we get a chance to try out some of the machines later. I always thought that I might be good at blackjack.

“This place is crazy, huh?” Bunny asks, smiling brightly as her head swivels from side to side. “Is August going to be working all night? Do you want to get a drink or two?”

“No, I should probably take it easy,” I say, raising my voice over the din. “I need to stay alert… you know, for my new job.”

“Your new job?” she repeats. “You got a new job? Dahlia? What is going on?”

I smile excitedly. “I got fired!”

She flinches, grabbing my elbow. “You got fired? Why are you smiling? Are you having a breakdown?”

“Sort of? Maybe?” I giggle. Actually, that might be a possibility. I definitely don't feel like myself.

“Is this about August? Is he messing with your head?” she asks me, suddenly serious.

We finally get to the escalator that leads up to the VIP rooms and the noise seems to die down a little bit. I wait for an older couple to pass us on the escalator going the other way before turning back toward Bunny. Her expression is concerned and eager.

“Actually… it's totally about August. But it's good, Bunny. It's really good.”

Her eyebrows go up and her crimson lips pucker suggestively. “Really good? Like, how good?”

My heart starts to flutter just thinking about it. “Like… send me over the moon good. Like it's all I think about good. Really good!”

“Yeah, okay… that's good for sure,” she says cautiously. “But you got fired? What is that about?”

I lead her toward Stan, who is standing outside VIP access. He nods at me in a professional way and opens the door. I give Bunny a sidelong look as she enters the private room, noting how impressed she appears.

“Well, August said I didn't really get fired. I got laid off.”

“Oh, honey, that sucks! I'm so sorry!”

We walk into the room, looking around. It's a large space, but totally empty so far. The two girls from the tour bus sit at one and of a long, bright pink bar. There are leather armchairs arranged in small conversational units and hightop tables with barstools but nobody in them. Apparently we are early to the party. All at once, a dozen LED screens flicker to life and the stage the Kirkman will be on suddenly appears.

“Geez,” Bunny says in a low voice. “This is extremely swanky.”

“Open bar too,” I remark.

“Are you kidding me? Champagne!”

It's like we own the place. It's like something out of a TV show. The women who came to the show with Kirkman pretty much ignore us, but Bunny and I sit at the other end of the bar drinking delicious champagne out of flutes for the next few minutes, just marveling at this room. It really does look like something out of a movie, or like we are in the movie itself. It's kind of amazing.

“So what are you going to be doing? Are you going to try going back to school again?”

“I don't know about that…” I answer uncertainly. “For right now, I am going to be working… for August.”

She stops with the champagne flute halfway to her lips and blinks twice. Are you kidding?”

I shake my head tightly. I don’t know if it is the champagne or what but I feel completely filled with bubbles, filled almost to bursting. I could practically float away, I'm so excited.

“He gave you a job?”

“He says I have good instincts.”

Carefully she sets her champagne down on the bar. She spreads her hands over her knees, holding her fingers wide and tapping her kneecaps for a few moments before she looks up at me.

“Dahlia, I want you to answer me. I want you to think seriously about this question, and then give me an answer.”

“What are you talking about?”

She takes a deep breath.

“Will you do that?” she persists. “Will you answer me honestly?”

I set my champagne glass down too.

“Yes, Bunny… what is it?”

“Could you finally just admit… that I was right??”

She opens her eyes dramatically and sits back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest.

“Bunny, give it a rest.”

“I was right!”

Picking my glass back up, I finish the rest of my champagne and then hold it in the air until the bartender notices me. I'm going to need a lot more alcohol.

“I was right! Say it!”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Say it!”

I just shake my head.

She smacks my knee. “Dahlia, I want you to admit it. If not for me, then for you. I was right. All this time, you've been all buttoned up, all living inside your head, pretending that you had no emotions, no desires, nothing. You've always been, you know… uptight.”

“I am not uptight!” I gasp, appalled.

“Oh please. You are the uptightest.”

I squirm in my chair, looking over my shoulder to make sure those other women aren't listening in on this.

“I'm not. I'm just cautious. I don't see any reason to go around —”

“— what? Go around being free? Being happy? Giving that a shot?”

“There's no need to be sarcastic.”

She sighs. She presses her lips to the side and tips her head. “Okay, fine. I take that part back. But seriously? Isn't this better? Can’t you admit it just a little bit?”

I think back, pondering last few days, the last couple weeks or so. Maybe she's got a point.

“It is sort of fun.”

She nods, her eyes bright and gleaming.

“It is fun!” she agrees. “Because, you know… I was right!”

Fine, whatever, she was right. I'm not going to say it out loud.

A few more people come into the room, shuffling toward the lounge chairs, coming up to the bar. Stan walks another couple of women toward the bar and delivers them, then returns to his post at the front door. In moments, the concert begins. Bunny squints at the closest LED screen over the top of her drink.

“Damn, that is a good-looking man,” she sighs.

“What? Are you serious? Kirkman?”

“Oh, yeah… I've always loved him. I mean, just look… it's like he glows! He is sort of amazing.”

I make a face, but try not to say anything. Bunny’s taste in man is not always the most awesome, but what's the harm? She certainly seems to know a lot more about these sorts of things than I do, anyway.

The VIP room fills up a little bit, but never gets congested or overflowing. Halfway through the concert, the tables are set with a modest but delicious buffet of paella, shrimp cocktail, and oysters on the half shell. Bunny loads up a plate and munches on it hungrily as she watches the concert through the screens, absorbing every moment.

After the show is over, I realize I am starting to feel a little bit tipsy. I've never been a very heavy drinker. Two glasses of champagne are usually my limit. I'm pretty sure I've had three. The one in my hand might be number four? I should definitely stop.

“That was amazing,” Bunny breathes. She slides from her barstool. “What do we do next? I brought a bag… should we go play slot machines? Is there a pool or something?”

“Well… Kirkman probably be here in a few minutes, so do you want to wait?”

Her eyes go wide. “Kirkman? He will? Here? Oh —”

Her gaze floats over my shoulder, and she looks shellshocked. Her lips fall open with a small popping noise.

I look over my shoulder and see that the door is open again. Kirkman saunters in, bouncing slightly at the knees as though he is still performing. He waves over his head at a couple of the businessmen in the corner, then sweeps the room with his eyes. He sees me and jerks his chin in greeting then pauses, looking at Bunny. She makes a tiny, strangled squeal as he begins to walk toward us.

“What do we do?” she asks quickly. “Dahlia? Am I supposed to be here?”

“Just smile.”

Kirkman rolls his eyes at me. “Where's your boss?” he asks me.

“Checking for strays, I imagine,” I answer. “He'll be here shortly. Do you remember Bunny?”

He smiles with one corner of his mouth, sliding his eyes over every inch of her where she stands.

“Of course I remember her,” he says. “I liked your other costume. This one is better.”

Bunny casts her weight to one side, perching her fist on her hip and cocking her head. She instantly transforms, burying the nervous fangirl deep inside and turning immediately into the sultry vixen I know and love.

“Your costume is okay, too, I guess,” she answers saucily.

Kirkman turns his back toward the women gathered at the end of the bar who are all staring with their mouth hanging open, obviously displeased. He swings into a barstool next to Bunny and drops his elbow on the bar so he can perch his head on his fist.

“You wanna take a picture?” he invites her.

“Excuse me, I'll be right back,” I say in a rush. She seems to like him, but I'm just going to have to get away.

When I get to a safe distance, I look back. Now that I can't hear the words that are coming out of his mouth, he doesn't seem so bad. Bunny sure seems to be into him. She's doing her best flirty cheerleader impression, bouncing up and down on her toes, sticking her chin in the air. She's very sassy little person, I'm sure he'll like her.

“What is going on over there?” comes a voice close to my ear. Instantly my body thrills, and I'm electrified.

I don't turn around. Instead I edge backward millimeter by millimeter, trying to get closer. I feel August’s hand snake around my waist and he pulls me tighter to him.

“I think Bunny has a new crush,” I murmur, quietly enough that he has to be very close to hear me.

“Well, isn't that convenient,” August says, his breath trailing over my ear, down the side of my neck. I shiver and sigh, wishing we were alone.

“She will be okay with him? Should I do something?”

“Just let her have her fun,” he answers.

I nod, sure he's right. Bunny knows what she's doing. She's known all along.