333 Miles (23 page)

“Good evening,” he shouted to the doorman. “I
am Alex Reine. We have a table under my name, but I am a friend of
Charlie’s. Please let him know we are here.”

The doorman referenced his clipboard. Once he
located Alex’s name on it, he smiled, told a group of younger guys
to Alex’s right to move aside, and waved Alex and his friends in.
“How many in your group?” he asked.

“Just these three,” Alex said motioning to
Gary, Mike and Roger.

The doorman quickly returned the barrier to
its place, then turned back to them. “Welcome, gentlemen, please
wait here and I will tell Charlie you arrived,” he said.

While they waited, Alex realized he had
chatted with the black security guy earlier in the year but he
could not remember his name. He approached the large man and
offered his hand, “Hey, good to see you. How’s it going?” Alex
asked.

The bouncer shook his hand, engulfing it.
“Yo, man, welcome back. Have fun tonight,” he said before turning
his attention back toward the crowd behind the divider.

Charlie, who was the main VIP host of the
club, appeared seemingly out of nowhere. At six feet five inches
tall, he had an instant presence. He looked to be roughly the same
age as Alex, but he wore his hair slicked back so it was hard to
tell. He had an infectious smile and always seemed to be in a
hurry. Alex met Charlie a few years before when he came to Vegas
with one of his co-workers who was a big gambler. In that case, the
casino had sent Charlie up to their hotel suite to escort them into
the club through a back entrance. Alex didn’t get this kind of
treatment on his own, but he maintained enough of a relationship to
ensure he had no problems getting into any club in Vegas and he
always got a good table when at the Hard Rock.

Charlie (smiling and extending his hand):
“Alex! Great to see you, buddy.”

Alex (shaking Charlie’s hand and passing him
a hundred-dollar bill): “Hey Charlie. How’s it going?”

Charlie: “Fantastic man. Living the
dream.”

Alex: “Sweet, man. Good to hear that. You
will make sure we have a nice spot inside?”

Charlie: “Always, my friend. Consider it
done.”

Charlie (to the young guy in the suit):
“Patrick, these guys are friends of mine. Make sure they are taken
care of.”

Patrick: “Of course.”

Charlie: “Okay, Alex, have a blast and let me
know if you need anything else this weekend.”

Alex (patting Charlie on the side of the
shoulder): “Thanks, Charlie. Take care.”

Patrick: “Gentlemen, please come with
me.”

With that, Charlie disappeared as if in a
magic trick and Patrick led the way toward a hallway at the back of
the waiting area. On the way there, he explained to the guys that
there would be a crazy amount of hot chicks in the club on this
night, but Alex knew from previous experience that the hosts always
said this regardless of its accuracy.

The group stopped in front of an elevator and
Patrick hit the call button. The elevator arrived promptly. Its
doors slid apart to reveal a silver- and black-walled cabin bathed
in purple light. Along the left-hand wall was a very attractive
woman who appeared to be some blend of French and Persian with
tastefully large fake breasts. She was wearing a violet silk
evening gown and black high-heeled shoes. The purple lighting
illuminated her, reflecting small pieces of glitter embedded in the
exposed skin on her shoulders and neck. She looked elegant, slutty
and exotic all at once.

Patrick informed the guys that the woman,
Alexandra, would take them to their table. Then he turned to
Alexandra and let her know that the group was friends with Charlie
and would be at table number eleven for the evening. Alex slipped
Patrick a ten-dollar bill and then tried to get into the elevator
immediately next to Alexandra, but was already boxed out by Mike
and Gary. “God, Vegas is great,” Roger said to no one in
particular.

Alex was still trying to figure out how to
maneuver closer to Alexandra when he felt something poking him in
his left buttock. Surprised, he looked down over his left shoulder
to find a midget in a black tuxedo looking up at him with a
disturbed expression. He had his right arm raised and was pointing
up at Alex with one little finger, jabbing it angrily.

The midget’s face was tightly wedged between
Alex’s ass and the back wall of the elevator, so Alex stepped away
to give him some breathing room. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, not sure
if a more appropriate response was available.

The midget said nothing, so Alex returned to
his previous preoccupation, but by then the doors on the far end of
the elevator opened and Alexandra walked out, instructing the group
to follow her. Gary led the way, followed by Mike and Roger. It was
darker inside the club and it was difficult for everyone to see
while their eyes adjusted.

Alex: “Did you see the midget?”

Mike: “Yeah. They are quite trendy right
now.”

Alex: “Oh.”

Alexandra led them through a smallish room
which was filled mostly with girls standing around talking with one
another while drinking out of champagne glasses. There was a bar on
the right-hand side. This led to another, larger room with a bar on
the left. The second room opened up to the main part of the club,
which consisted of a sunken dance floor about the size of half of a
basketball court. The dance floor was surrounded by circular black
leather couches which wrapped around black tables. Overhead, a
number of white chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

The group continued up to the left and
reached another roped-off area, again using the plastic dividers
found at the airport. A medium-sized black man in a black suit
stood behind the divider. Alexandra said something to him and he
opened the divider and smiled, revealing a steady white set of
teeth that glowed in the black light permeating the club. Alex
recognized him and stepped up to say hello.

Alex: “Hey Randy, good to see you again.”

Randy: “All right, my man. Good evening. I am
working security in this area so if there is anything at all you
need, just let me know.”

Alex: “Thanks. I’m Alex, we have met a few
times before. As always, we would be happy to hook you up if you
introduce someone we may want to talk to.”

Randy: “Cool, man. Do you like blondes,
brunettes or Asians?”

Alex: “Anything very high quality. Otherwise
we are equal opportunity.”

Randy (smiling): “Yeah. Yeah. Of course. You
got it.”

Randy and Alexandra led the group past a few
tables set against the wall and directed them into a
mezzanine-level booth overlooking the center of the dance floor.
Two semi-circular black leather couches surrounded a medium-sized
black table, creating an oval-shaped sitting area. The benefits of
this layout were several. Primarily, the space was distinguished
from the main passageway of the VIP area, but only by the height of
the couches. This meant it was easy to see everyone in the space
and invite them in, but otherwise it was difficult for people to
enter. Secondly, there was ample room to sit on the couches for
conversation, or to stand in front of the balcony to dance or
simply watch the action below.

Alex, who was getting sick of having to tip
everyone himself, asked Gary if he could give Alexandra a twenty.
Gary, happy to oblige, fished out his wallet and pulled out the
bill to give to her. With that, Alexandra let them know that
Yvonne, their server, would be with them shortly; then she left
with Randy following.

Below, the dance floor was about half full,
but the population seemed to be visibly intensifying. Roger and
Alex sat on the left side of the booth and Mike and Gary sat on the
right side. Alex lit another Dunhill and offered one to Roger.
Roger shook his head and informed Alex that he was going to have a
Kodiak instead but was dissuaded by Alex’s request that they
attempt to appear to be somewhat classy for at least another hour
or two. He accepted the cigarette and grabbed Alex’s out of his
hand to use to light his own. Once it was lit, he put it in his
mouth with his left hand and used his right to try and mess up
Alex’s hair. Alex successfully fought off the attack and called
Roger a sword-swallower, laughing as he said it and in very good
spirits.

On the other side of the booth, Gary and Mike
were also in a positive frame of mind. Mike grabbed the drink menu
off of the table and perused it quickly, even though he knew in
advance what they would be ordering. He noticed the prices were
slightly higher than he remembered from the last time he was at the
club just over a year or so ago. Bottles of Stolichnaya, which for
no particular reason had always been the vodka of choice for the
group, were $350 each. Mike noticed that Grey Goose was $425, and a
bottle of Cristal champagne could be purchased for $600. Small type
at the bottom of the menu informed the reader that a twenty percent
service charge would be added automatically.

The music in the club was loud, but not such
that you couldn’t have a full conversation with the people
immediately around you. While Mike was looking at the menu the DJ
seamlessly mixed Prince’s
Raspberry Beret
into AC/DC’s
You Shook Me All Night Long
. Mike was satisfied with the
music selection but was slightly annoyed that the songs seemed to
switch after only about forty-five seconds each.

Mike: “I think the fucking DJ has ADD or
something.”

Gary: “Yeah, but at least it isn’t all
techno. I hate that shit.”

Mike: “Totally. Man, you know what, they are
not shy here about charging for a cocktail.”

Gary: “How much are the bottles?”

Mike: “Stoli is $350 plus twenty
percent.”

Gary: “Hmm, you aren’t kidding. Do you think
we will go through two or three?”

Mike: “It depends how much we give away to
bitches, but probably three given the way Alex and The Rodge
drink.”

Gary: “Probably, yeah. Oh well, no one said
Vegas was cheap. But I have to give it to Alex, he seems to do
quite well at having a good time.”

Mike: “No doubt. Yeah, I am pretty fucking
happy to be here also. It really is cool that we could all make it
out together. We used to have a lot of good times out here,
remember?”

Gary: “Yeah, it was a lot of fun, though we
sure as hell were not blowing a grand on a few bottles of vodka
back in those days.”

Mike: “Fuck no. I used to bring two hundy for
the whole weekend. It was all about the five-dollar blackjack
tables and cramming a bunch of guys into the cheapest hotel room we
could find.”

Gary: “If we even got a room. Do you remember
when I slept in the bathtub at the Imperial Palace?”

Mike: “Yep. I ended up sharing a bed with Fat
Freddy that night.”

Gary: “Ouch. I am not sure which is worse.
Good old Fat Freddy.”

Mike: “Was that the trip Alex hooked up with
the jouster chick from the show at Excalibur?”

Gary: “I think so. Classic. Of all the
showgirls, how do you end up with a jouster? At least she must be
good with a pole. Yeah man, those were some good times. This is fun
too, though. It is just crazy how things have changed.”

Mike: “Totally. We are getting old,
dude.”

Gary: “Well, yeah, that, but I mean also the
way the city is now. Anyway, it is good we have some cash now. I
mean if you are in college now, coming to Vegas must be frustrating
because you can’t really afford anything.”

Mike: “I think if you are still in college,
you don’t even know what you are missing. Anyway, you would
basically come to the same club but instead of sitting VIP you
would still be waiting in that line outside.”

Gary: “God, that would suck.”

Mike: “Yep. Anyway, have you talked to Blair
yet since we left?”

Gary: “Yeah, I called her while you were in
the shower. I told her you are not really getting married but that
it is kind of a long story and I would tell her about it when I get
back. She didn’t sound too happy, but was generally okay.
Basically, I am using a lot of political capital on this one, but
it will blow over.”

Mike: “That’s good. I think your lady is
pretty cool.”

Gary: “She is. I think we both realize you
have to let the other person live their own life sometimes. We may
not like what the other person wants to do on their own, but as
long as they stay respectful of the relationship it should be
okay.”

Mike: “Cool. It is hard to find a chick that
is rational enough to think that way.”

Gary: “I know. Anyway, don’t get me wrong, I
will still get a lot of hell for this, and she probably will use
the money I spend as an excuse to either buy a new bag or not let
me buy the steak knives I want.”

Mike (wondering why steak knives were so
important): “Oh.”

Gary: “Anyway, enough about home. We’re in
Vegas. How do I not have a drink yet?”

As if on cue, Yvonne arrived. She was nearly
six feet tall, with long brown hair that went about halfway down
her back. She had a very nice, thin, tanned body with a flat
stomach that was largely visible between a black tied-up shirt and
a black skirt. Her face was pretty, but in a Midwestern cute way,
with pudgy cheeks that didn’t seem to fit her body. Though well
suited for her figure, her rather small breasts seemed notable in
their contrast with all of the silicone competition present.
Nevertheless, she had a genuine smile and everyone immediately
approved of her.

She sat on the couch next to Gary, who was on
the outside of their section, and put her hand on his knee. Then,
careful to make eye contact with everyone, she said, “Welcome to
the club, gentlemen. My name is Yvonne and it is my job to make
sure you all have a great time tonight. So, is anyone here planning
to drink anything this evening?”

This got a laugh from everyone. Gary ordered
two bottles of Stolichnaya vodka and asked for sides of cranberry
juice, orange juice and soda water. Alex then asked her to also
bring six sugar-free Red Bulls which Yvonne informed them would
cost an extra six dollars each. Yvonne then asked who would be
giving her a credit card to secure the tab. No one moved for a few
moments, so Alex dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet and
handed Yvonne his Platinum American Express card.