Ace of Hearts
red hot sun
“Vegas is only good if you got ID.”
Never a truer word had spilled from Mike Kitlas’ chapped lips. He stretched his legs out and cracked his knuckles, leaning back onto the burning wooden bench. A long yawn escaped him and he closed his eyes, fully facing the bright, unbearable sunlight.
Beside Mike, Slade Echeverria shook his extra large cup of coca cola. The cup, half filled with ice, rattled. He put the straw back into his mouth and began to chew it down. It seemed to be an unwritten rule that he do that once he was done with his drink. It was a trait he appeared to have passed on to his girlfriend of the past five months, for Madison Burton was doing the exact same thing. She chewed on the plastic straw, looking across at him and smiling, seeing he was doing the same.
“You two are fucking weird,” Mike mumbled, his eyes still closed.
“How did he - ?” Madison began, before she faltered. Mike leaned his head back down and grinned at her, before returning to his previous relaxed position. Slade smiled at the pair of them, sliding his arm around Madison and shaking his head.
“See, there’s something we didn’t tell you about Mike. He’s kinda psychic.”
From the pavement below them, Greg Garrity snorted. “Whatever you say, Slade. Mike’s the dumbest out of us all.”
“Being psychic has nothing to do with intelligence,” Mike scoffed, “besides I’m pretty smart.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
The four of them were sitting outside their hotel in Las Vegas. Rosalie Palmer was putting on another one of her grand parties and had drafted everyone in to help, including Madison’s parents. Her mother was in the kitchen, icing fairy cakes and setting up champagne flute pyramids, whilst her father practiced his latest dance routine, complete with sparkling red dress and black feather boa. Today, the four of them had managed to escape Rosalie’s clutches, with Madison promising to keep Slade away from any form of ice sculpture, and so Rosalie had agreed to give them a few hours away from any pre-party dramatics.
So there they were, sitting on a bench in the middle of Sin City, no where to go and nothing to do. The casinos were open, but no one was legally allowed entrance to any of them. All of them had grand adventures in mind, yet none of these could be set into motion because of the main setback. A lack of fake ID.
“Confidence is the key. Maybe if we just stroll on over to a casino, they might let us in,” Madison pondered. “I’ve done it before in clubs and stuff.”
“That’s in Arizona, and you’re best friends with Blair Palmer. You know, big time model,” Mike sighed heavily.
“Big time, rich model,” Slade corrected.
“I’m not rich, it’s my mum that is,” Mike attempted to mimic Blair. The line she fed them whenever one of them commented on her brand new designer handbag or the presents she brought back from one exotic place or another.
“Oi!”
The four of them looked up, trying to locate the sudden sound disturbing the peace. Walking across the burning road was Taylor, followed by Adam, who was wearing a heavy scowl, his arms folded. Blair trailed along behind them, swinging her hand that was locked with Austin’s. The pair of them had ice cream cones clasped in their clammy palms.
“Oi, what?” Madison asked, raising one eyebrow as the four of them approached.
Taylor grinned and held up a fan made out of laminated cards. Curious, Madison stood up and walked over to him, pulling one of the cards from the fan. It was a fake driving license with Blair’s passport picture stuck inside it. A false name and date of birth. She grinned. “Nice work, Juwig.”
He turned to glare at Blair, “see, I am good for something!”
“Shame that something isn’t needed all the time,” she shot back.
“Sometimes I get the feeling that you two should be married, instead of Blair and Austin. Blair Juwig has a nice ring to it,” Slade smirked, bringing himself to his feet and joining Madison.
Taylor and Blair both shuddered, shooting each other filthy looks.
“Are we going then? You know before we get the call to go back and actually do some work?” Adam asked.
“Okay pissy pants, calm yourself,” Taylor chuckled, handing out everyone’s fake ID, before leading the way towards the casinos. “To gamble away our life savings!”
Everyone followed him, desperate to finally have some proper fun in Vegas, before Rosalie called Blair and they were summoned to join in the pre-party drama.
Madison looked up at Slade, who tangled his fingers around her own, the pair of them heading off in the same direction their friends had.
And none of them ever looked back.
Never a truer word had spilled from Mike Kitlas’ chapped lips. He stretched his legs out and cracked his knuckles, leaning back onto the burning wooden bench. A long yawn escaped him and he closed his eyes, fully facing the bright, unbearable sunlight.
Beside Mike, Slade Echeverria shook his extra large cup of coca cola. The cup, half filled with ice, rattled. He put the straw back into his mouth and began to chew it down. It seemed to be an unwritten rule that he do that once he was done with his drink. It was a trait he appeared to have passed on to his girlfriend of the past five months, for Madison Burton was doing the exact same thing. She chewed on the plastic straw, looking across at him and smiling, seeing he was doing the same.
“You two are fucking weird,” Mike mumbled, his eyes still closed.
“How did he - ?” Madison began, before she faltered. Mike leaned his head back down and grinned at her, before returning to his previous relaxed position. Slade smiled at the pair of them, sliding his arm around Madison and shaking his head.
“See, there’s something we didn’t tell you about Mike. He’s kinda psychic.”
From the pavement below them, Greg Garrity snorted. “Whatever you say, Slade. Mike’s the dumbest out of us all.”
“Being psychic has nothing to do with intelligence,” Mike scoffed, “besides I’m pretty smart.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
The four of them were sitting outside their hotel in Las Vegas. Rosalie Palmer was putting on another one of her grand parties and had drafted everyone in to help, including Madison’s parents. Her mother was in the kitchen, icing fairy cakes and setting up champagne flute pyramids, whilst her father practiced his latest dance routine, complete with sparkling red dress and black feather boa. Today, the four of them had managed to escape Rosalie’s clutches, with Madison promising to keep Slade away from any form of ice sculpture, and so Rosalie had agreed to give them a few hours away from any pre-party dramatics.
So there they were, sitting on a bench in the middle of Sin City, no where to go and nothing to do. The casinos were open, but no one was legally allowed entrance to any of them. All of them had grand adventures in mind, yet none of these could be set into motion because of the main setback. A lack of fake ID.
“Confidence is the key. Maybe if we just stroll on over to a casino, they might let us in,” Madison pondered. “I’ve done it before in clubs and stuff.”
“That’s in Arizona, and you’re best friends with Blair Palmer. You know, big time model,” Mike sighed heavily.
“Big time, rich model,” Slade corrected.
“I’m not rich, it’s my mum that is,” Mike attempted to mimic Blair. The line she fed them whenever one of them commented on her brand new designer handbag or the presents she brought back from one exotic place or another.
“Oi!”
The four of them looked up, trying to locate the sudden sound disturbing the peace. Walking across the burning road was Taylor, followed by Adam, who was wearing a heavy scowl, his arms folded. Blair trailed along behind them, swinging her hand that was locked with Austin’s. The pair of them had ice cream cones clasped in their clammy palms.
“Oi, what?” Madison asked, raising one eyebrow as the four of them approached.
Taylor grinned and held up a fan made out of laminated cards. Curious, Madison stood up and walked over to him, pulling one of the cards from the fan. It was a fake driving license with Blair’s passport picture stuck inside it. A false name and date of birth. She grinned. “Nice work, Juwig.”
He turned to glare at Blair, “see, I am good for something!”
“Shame that something isn’t needed all the time,” she shot back.
“Sometimes I get the feeling that you two should be married, instead of Blair and Austin. Blair Juwig has a nice ring to it,” Slade smirked, bringing himself to his feet and joining Madison.
Taylor and Blair both shuddered, shooting each other filthy looks.
“Are we going then? You know before we get the call to go back and actually do some work?” Adam asked.
“Okay pissy pants, calm yourself,” Taylor chuckled, handing out everyone’s fake ID, before leading the way towards the casinos. “To gamble away our life savings!”
Everyone followed him, desperate to finally have some proper fun in Vegas, before Rosalie called Blair and they were summoned to join in the pre-party drama.
Madison looked up at Slade, who tangled his fingers around her own, the pair of them heading off in the same direction their friends had.
And none of them ever looked back.
♠ ♠ ♠
And it's overrrr. Sorry this ended up being absolute crap, and I'm sorry this ending leaves much to the imagination. Sorry that Madison was a little rain cloud, and that she was never ever happy. And yeah, just apologies that this didn't turn out quite the way I wanted it to, but I'd rather let it die now than consider a re-write.Thanks if you commented and stuck with it to this point.