Sometime early this morning we pulled into Reno. It felt like a cat had taken a piss in my mouth and my shirt smelled like rancid meat. The jeans I had stolen from the launder care had somehow become covered in black grease and sagged to my hip bones exposing four inches of my belly, which was currently very empty. I had fucked my way into the motel room I was currently in, a long way from the strip in Sparks—the rooms current occupant was snoring on floor. The asshole said I stunk.
I kicked my feet up over the side of the bed deciding to risk a shower, I soaped up profusely then watched the gray water swirl around my feet. The cheap motel soap was no match for my scum and was nothing more than a lump the size of a quarter when I was done. I left it to the drain with the rest of my funk.
Haphazardly drying off my hair I walked naked through the room until I found assholes suitcase, pulling out a pair of chinos, tidy whiteys and a wife beater. Jesus I hope this bastard didn’t have anything contagious—I pulled on the briefs and clothes and slid back into my boots. After tucking my blade back, I pulled 67 bucks (that’s all he had) out the wallet laying on nightstand, and took the pack of Marlboro lights and bic laying next to it.
Slipping out of the room, I lit up and realized that these ugly ass pants were a serious disability. I rolled them up until the middle parts of my boots were exposed and kept walking. Taking a deep drag of the Marlboro I filtered the smoke out slowly through my nose—it burned like hell but it reminded me to keep going. I needed money, I needed food and I needed to get the hell out of Nevada.
It wasn’t long before I found myself back at a city bus stop. When the bus pulled up the driver eyed me, staring a little to long at my chinos. My fingers itched to punch him.
"How do I get to the strip?" I asked shifting my weight uncomfortably—like I always do when someone stares at me too long.
The fucker licked his lips then replied, "I’ll get you there."
I thrust a buck into his machine then sat down in the middle of the bus. An old lady with a pink knit hat with feathers in it stared at me, it was 75 degrees and she was wearing a sweater. Her wrinkled lips were pursed, exaggerating the red lipstick that already bled into the cracks around her mouth.
She clutched her white leather pocketbook—as if. I stared back and was about to tell her to mind her damn business when she suddenly spoke.
"Do you need help honey?" she said in shakey voice.
I stared back skeptically.
My hair was dripping on my shoulders I brushed if off leaving glistening streaks on each shoulder, I caught the drivers eye in his review mirror, and flipped off as he licked his upper lip again.
The woman was still staring at me waiting for an answer. Could I really take advantage of a granny.
"I can help you" she sad. Her lips curling around yellow crooked teeth that I knew were her own.
"How?" I jutted my chin and gave her my best who the hell are you look.
She smiled.
Thirty-Five minutes later I found myself following the old lady through The Silver Legacy.
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