Thank You for Listening(4)

“Whatever you want! I can’t check in until three o’clock so . . .”

Adaku rolled her eyes and Sewanee could see another argument for ditching the Rio forming, so she quickly said, “I have to do some work tonight, so let’s have fun but not too much. Tomorrow night, I’m all in. Speaking of, I brought five hundred dollars and I’m putting it on red or black. Haven’t decided which yet. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky.”

“Oh, you’re getting lucky if I have anything to say about it! It’s been way too long.” Adaku held up her glass again. Sewanee clinked it, chuckling, and they both said, simultaneously, effortlessly, freely, “I love you.” They sipped and the bubbles felt like Pop Rocks on Swan’s tongue and, suddenly, she was content. That’s what A did for her.

Adaku set her glass down on a side table Sewanee thought might have been a sculpture and clapped her hands together. “So! I have to do a phone interview in ten minutes, shouldn’t be more than half an hour–at least my publicist promised it wouldn’t be–and then we hit it!” She refilled Sewanee’s glass while saying, “You take this, go luxuriate in the spa”–she pointed down yet another long hallway–“fix yourself”–she looked Swan up and down–“and get ready to partaaay!” She twirled out of the room on the last word like Stevie Nicks, champagne sloshing out of her glass and splatting on the marble.

Sewanee smiled and walked down the other cavernous hallway, stopping in her tracks at the door to the bathroom.

Oh, okay. It was an actual spa. There was a steam room, a sauna, and a massage table all surrounding a Japanese soaking tub. She wasn’t sure where to go first. The tub called to her, so she stripped down–eye patch and all–and slipped into the perfectly regulated 104-degree water.

As she adapted to it, her mind wandered back to the studio apartment in Washington Heights. The one she had shared with Adaku when they were in school. The one where they had huddled together under blankets when the furnace had gone out and played the “when we’re famous” game. Julliard had been sucking them dry, financially and emotionally, but they’d had a bottomless well of optimism that could only come from youth and inexperience. When we’re famous, we’ll eat sushi every night. When we’re famous, people will stop us on the street and say how much they love our work. When we’re famous, we’ll have reliable heating. When we’re famous.

Not you. Not me. We.

Sewanee hadn’t known then how quickly a dream could become a thing that mocked you.

TURNED OUT, VEGAS by day was not as flaccid as Sewanee had thought. She and Adaku had already window-shopped and people-watched, and they were now tucked into two club chairs in a beautiful bar somewhere in the Venetian’s Grand Canal Shoppes, sipping something expensive. Free, but expensive. Once Adaku had signed a cocktail napkin “To Roy, Always Adaku,” their eager server had upgraded their vodka sodas to something sweet dusted with gold flake. “Do we need to worry about heavy metal poisoning?” Sewanee joked once he’d left. Adaku had sniffed the surface of the drink, said, “But, what a way to go,” and took a sip. Sewanee followed suit.

“So, how’s BlahBlah doing?” Adaku asked.

“Oh, you know,” Sewanee sighed. “Physically, she’s okay. Mentally? You ever seen Memento?”

Adaku grimaced. “Is she . . . does she still remember who you are?”

“Oh, yeah. I started bringing her my audiobooks and I think hearing my voice when I’m not there helps her remember me when I am.”

“Amazing. And how about your dad?”

“She remembers him, too. Unfortunately.”

Adaku chuckled. “I meant how is the old bathrobe?”

Sewanee guffawed, they set their empty glasses down, and Roy appeared, as if he’d been waiting in the wings for just such a cue. “You guys doing okay? Or do we need some more gold for that?”

“My bartending magician!” Adaku flirted. “Abracadabra, please!” She held up both empty glasses.

“Your wish is my command.” Roy relieved her of the glasses. “Back in a flash.” He made a whooshing sound as he left, presumably vanishing.

“Is there anything you can’t get a man to do?” Sewanee marveled.

“Commit?” As Sewanee laughed, Adaku turned her attention to the room, scanning it, radar looking for a blip. “Speaking of men, see anyone cute?”

Sewanee didn’t look. “No.”

“Come on! We’re in Vegas!” Adaku leaned in, grinning devilishly. “What happens in Vegas, stays in–”

“Only if you use protection.” Adaku chuckled, but Sewanee made a sound like a hissing cat. “I think I have a gold flake caught in my throat.”

At that moment, Roy reappeared, making the same whooshing sound, and Sewanee stifled her hacking.

“He appears!” Adaku exclaimed. “Roy the Remarkable!”

“What else can I conjure for you ladies?” he asked, through his Vegas grin.

Adaku caught Sewanee’s eye. A silent conversation ensued. How about him? Adaku asked. Sewanee imperceptibly tipped her chin down. No.

Adaku ignored her, turning to Roy. “By the way, this is my best friend, Sewanee.”

“Shauney?”