By Paul Melkonian

So me and Jimmy drove down to Atlantic City to get away from it all, as Jimmy put it. He was trying to be nice. What he meant was get me away from Jolene, or anything that reminded me of her, which in this one-horse town is pretty much everything.

She’d dumped me again. This time, though, it wasn’t because of me, my job, my car, or, one time, my lack of direction. I had to laugh at that one. Why’s direction matter when you always end up in the same place?

All those other times I’d just make it to Friday and get drunk for two days. Usually by Sunday Jolene would get lonely, or horny, and we’d make up. It’s funny, she always seemed to break up on Tuesday, and make up on Sunday. I never could figure that out, no matter how many Wednesdays and Thursdays I spent thinking about it.

This time was different. She didn’t blame me. She blamed some other guy. I thought she might be making him up, but it hurt worse anyway and seemed more real, if that makes sense. I was bitching about it to Jimmy Thursday night at the Four Square after we’d cashed our checks when Jimmy came up with the Atlantic City idea. Maybe he knew something I didn’t and was thinking ahead. If Jolene didn’t call Sunday, after I’d been drinking for two days, I might do something stupid or just keep right on going and drink myself out of another job. We’d both done that a couple times. There’s only so many places to work around here, but there’s also only so many of us, so there’s lots of second and third chances to be had. Hell, Reindeer Murphy’s pushing 50, and he’s had 20, maybe 25 jobs since he was my age and only worked at three places.

“You go home tonight, pack your shit, bring it with you to work tomorrow. Right after work we hop in my car and bolt,” Jimmy said. “You want some powder, we’ll get some powder.”

“No fucking powder man.” The only real trouble I’ve ever really had I was on that stuff. It’s not so much the coke itself, it’s that I end up drinking so much more I get a little out of control. I’m not saying I’m a boy scout or anything. I messed around in high school like everybody, more than most, probably. One time they made me go to some of them meetings. They seemed OK, for those people that need them. People talking about their problems, some of them happy-go-lucky, others just miserable fucks. Pretty much like every night at the Four Square, really, except people were sober. Mostly.

It made me think they should have meetings for kids, you know, before we start screwing up. Teach us some shit. And not like that dumb crap when some fat cop comes in and gets everybody curious. I mean, when a cop tells a twelve-year-old not to do something, any normal twelve-year-old is gonna wanna do it, am I right?

“OK, bro, no powder,” Jimmy said, hands up in surrender. “We get down there about eight or nine, shower up, hit the casinos. I’ll call my ‘dancer’ friends, take your mind off stuff.”

“Stuff” hung there like Jolene’s perfume.

I had to admit a change of scenery sounded right. We hadn’t road tripped in a while. We had one more beer each and headed home. I didn’t want to start the weekend with a Friday morning hangover.

Work Friday was, well, work. Waddya want from me? Me and Jimmy even passed up the Friday afternoon break beers the crew has every week. We wanted to at least walk into Harrah’s full witted.

That’s generally where we stay when we hit AC. When we say it in front of the boys, they look at us like we have money they didn’t know about. But it ain’t like that. Jimmy’s mom is, how can I put this nicely? A degenerate gambler. Even small fries like her get comps and special deals from the joints on the strip, and Harrah’s was where she usually ended up.

Jimmy also has a hookup for hookers, too. He met a couple working girls one time on a trip with his mom. That’s not as fucked up as it sounds; when Jimmy’s mom gets her license suspended, she makes Jimmy drive her. He was hanging around the lobby one time, looking lonely and employed, one thing led to another, and $300.00 later he had two new friends.

I met them one time. They were nice, not what I expected. We hung out for a couple hours, playing the slots just enough to get free drinks. They played on their own dime, too. The whole thing wasn’t as business-like as I thought it would be, which I appreciated.

I’ve just never been one who likes getting laid for getting laid’s sake. Not saying I turn it down—I’m not that weird, but I prefer, you know, liking a girl before having sex with her, waking up with someone and feeling good about it with them, not all awkward like we both just made the same mistake. 

Anyways, like I was saying, the one time I met Jimmy’s “AC girls” it was OK—we had some drinks, walked the strip making fun of tourists, danced a little. The next day it felt like a date that had worked out good, not like I was a desperate john doing something wrong. Jimmy didn’t seem to care one way or the other, at least that’s how he acted in front of the boys. But I don’t know. Who really knows what’s in another guy’s heart, am I right?

We walked into Harrah’s lobby on schedule, a little after eight. Jimmy was his usual self, acting like a kid whose parents were away for the weekend. I like that about him, and even though I wasn’t totally into it, I was doing my best to keep up with his spirit.

Then I literally ran into her. Well, OK, not literally, we weren’t running. We bumped into each other, and she dropped her purse; stuff spilled everywhere. I kneeled down to help her and headbutted her, just a little. I swear we had a moment, just a couple seconds. I opened my eyes a little wider, and she smiled, a real beauty, with those kind of eyes that are so green they look fake. Then we sort of snapped out of it, and as I’m helping her pick up her stuff, I’m also watching from a distance and thinking this is like every stupid movie Jolene ever made me watch.

Stupid movies or not, we still had that moment, and as we stood up, I shook her hand and said, “I’m Billy, by the way.” 

She said, “Well that’s a strange last name,” and we shared a laugh, which I counted as moment number two. She told me her name was Mandy and thanked me for helping her pick up the stuff I knocked out of her hand, but she said it with that smile.

Then she turned and started to walk away. I don’t know what got into me.

“Hey, Mandy,” I called after her.

She turned back to me, but she didn’t say anything, so I figured it was still my turn.

“Me and Jimmy just rolled into town. Looks like you guys are just getting here, too. We were gonna clean up a little and get something to eat.  Would you ladies like to join us?”

Mandy and her friend looked at each other, and Jimmy standing on the other side of them giving me the stink eye. I knew what he was thinking: he had his heart set on a hooker. My thinking was, I was pretty sure his AC girls would be just as available tomorrow as tonight, and I just had two moments with this girl, and that doesn’t happen very often. At least not to me.

Mandy and her friend, whose name was Suzanne, sort of shrugged a wordless “what the hell,” nodded to each other, and Mandy said, “Sure. We’re actually staying down the street. We could meet you back here in, say, an hour?”

I almost said, “Sounds like a date,” but luckily it came out, “Sounds great. See you then.”

Walking to the elevator, I cut Jimmy off at the pass.

“Look, buddy, I know what you’re gonna say, but we’re here to take my mind off of stuff, and this is what I wanna do.”

Jimmy’s a lot of things, but mostly he’s my friend. He shrugged and said, “OK pard,” and that was that.

I let Jimmy hop in the shower first, mostly because I wanted to be as fresh as possible when we went down to meet Mandy and Sue. I hadn’t brought any cologne or anything, which was probably just as well because I usually put on too much, according to Jolene anyway. I had my favorite shirt, one I always feel good in, plus some fairly new underwear. Just in case.

We got down to the lobby with about ten minutes to spare, so we set up camp in a couple of big old stuffed chairs with a view of the main entrance and the front desk. Jimmy was still a little sulky about the whole hooker thing. I was glad, though. Like I said before, I’m no angel, but the couple times I went to that party, afterwards I always felt like the morning after a bad drunk.

We sat there people watching, ragging on tourists who got dressed up to go arrive in Atlantic City, like anyone gives a damn. I could tell Jimmy was starting to come around. He’s good like that, Jimmy is.

“Hey Jimmy. I know you had your heart, or, your dick, set on hooking up tonight. I just want you to know, no matter anything, tomorrow night it’s all you buddy.”

“Yeah, like if you hit it off with Mindy you’re gonna blow her off and hang with me. You’d fall in love on an elevator ride, buddy.”

“Well, I am a romantic, I’ll give you that much. And her name’s ‘Mandy’.”

“Yeah, I know their names.”

“If that does happen, I’ll give you complete control of the room for as long as you… need. I’ll even kick in my share.”

“What good is that—there’s two of ‘em.”

“What, you can’t handle two women?”

In spite of his generally depraved outlook, apparently Jimmy hadn’t thought about that possibility. It changed his whole attitude.

The minutes passed. You sort of expect women to be a few minutes late in that kind of situation, but when it got to be about twenty minutes, I started to feel, I don’t know, embarrassed. Jimmy knew it. I could tell because he was talking more than usual to fill the space.

“Shit, I really thought Mandy meant it.”

“Now, Billy, don’t go getting in a double funk here. You only talked to her for a minute. And it’s still early. I could make a call….”

That was the last thing I wanted, or needed, and I said so.

“You want the room for tonight? I can keep busy for a few hours anyways.”

“No, Billy, I’m with you, man.” He stood up. “Let’s just get ripped and start over tomorrow fresh.”

Fresh. New. I guess that’s what I liked about Mandy in the first place. Maybe AC ain’t the place to look for fresh and new.

“That sounds great. I’ll meet you in the bar, OK? I’m going to get some air.”

“Good, Billy, that’s good. Walk it off, like coach used to tell us when we got hit in the ’nads.”

Fucking Jimmy.

Walking down the strip I passed a young couple who were looking up at all the spectacular bright lights. I’d probably look like that the first time I saw it, too. It was like the whole city was one big carnival. I was smiling at them, and at the memory, but I couldn’t keep reality at bay. When the carnival leaves town, all that’s left is torn up tickets, stumps of fried dough, and broken hearts.

This place was just like our hometown or any other wide place in the road, broken dreams on every corner. It was just brighter and more colorful.

I passed an old lady selling cans of beer out of a trash bag filled with ice, looking over her shoulder like she was on a wanted list. How do you end up like that?

When I started to get weepy over an Elvis impersonator singing “My Way” in front of a joint near the end of the strip, I stopped and shook myself. Just go get drunk with Jimmy. Maybe it’ll help reset everything. If not, at least I’ll be drunk. 

Any purpose is better than no purpose at all, and as I walked back to Harrah’s, I started to feel a little better. I walked into the lobby like I owned the joint and headed for the lobby bar.

“Billy!”

There she was. And there I went. Again.

“Mandy. I waited and waited. I figured you blew me off, so I didn’t….”

She looked at me with those eyes and put her finger to my lips.

“I’m here now, Billy. Just take me to dinner.”