Father and Daughter

The following Monday, Dan came home early. He entered the house with a huge paper bag and a grin on his face. I was sitting on the couch, reading his copy of The Merchant of Venice and threw the book down as soon as he walked in.

“Didn’t we go grocery shopping yesterday?” I asked, scratching my head. “And why are you home early?”

I watched Dan pace into the kitchen and set down the bag. “It’s not for the house,” he said. He joined me on the couch, shrugging off his jacket. “So, I was thinking about something this morning, Mina.”

“... What is it?” I asked, crossing my arms anxiously. I came up with the frantic conclusion that he was going to tell me that he couldn’t afford to keep another person under his roof and that he was returning me in the morning.

“Well, school’s going to be in session in a couple of weeks, so I was wondering if you wanted to go on a vacation.”

I relaxed my tense posture and smiled. “Where?”

“San Diego.”

“Oh, okay.” I replied stupidly. I didn’t know where ‘San Diego’ was, but I assumed it was a place in Arizona. Despite how much I tried to play off my lack of knowledge of this place Dan was talking about, he saw right through my act.

“It’s in California,” he said, chuckling. “Did you take geography classes at the orphanage?”

“Just for a trimester when I was a seventh grader,” I replied. “We only learned the major cities. I don’t remember San Diego being on the list.”

“Ah, I see. Well, you probably learned about Sacramento--the capital of California--and Los Angeles.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Los Angeles is where all the celebrities live.”

Dan laughed. I must have looked so naive in front of him. I was beginning to realize how restrained my education was at the orphanage. I wondered about how many more things I needed to learn about the world.

“And what about Las Vegas?” he asked. “Would you like to go there? It’s on the way to San Diego.”

“Sex,” “drugs,” “alcohol,” and “gambling” were the first words that popped into my mind. Sister Margaret had ranted about Las Vegas during that geography class. Her face had turned so red that she looked like she could burst.

“The people that go there are terrible,” she had said. “That city is filled with promiscuity, drunkards, and drug addicts. Everyone goes there to waste away a night or two of their lives and they all leave without a cent in their pocket. That city is evil!”

Of course, she was obviously exaggerating the reality of Las Vegas, but there was evil in every town, hiding where you least expect it. There was no way to avoid it. I had to face it somehow. And if I didn’t get to see the “most evil city in the country," how could I learn?

I smirked as I crawled out of my memories of Sister Margaret. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s go there, too.”



The drive down to San Diego was going to take approximately seventeen hours and thirty-six minutes, according to an online map site. We were passing through Salt Lake City when my stomach began to grumble. I reached into the backseat of the Chevelle and pulled a random snack out of the paper bag Dan had brought home the day before. The radio was blasting hair metal music from the eighties and Dan was singing along while I pretended to know the lyrics.

I had so many concerns when Dan suddenly announced that we were leaving within twenty-four hours. Who was going to run the shop? Was someone going to house sit? Dan said I asked so many questions and that I worried too much. He informed me that he had two workers for Myla’s and no one needed to house sit because the police patrolled all areas each night for hours.

We left before dawn, while the mist was still cloaking the city. Our goal was to arrive in Las Vegas before sunset; check into our room and rest; and check out the city.

Apparently, we would be going back in time when we arrived in Nevada. We would be an hour behind what we started with. Dan called it “uninteresting time travel.”

I ripped open the bag of potato chips and reached in to indulge, but Dan’s hand had beat me to it. I looked over at him as he crunched on the chips. “Sorry,” he said, smiling.

I laughed and finally got a handful for myself. I raised my eyebrows at the flavor of the chips. It was no wonder that Dan had been quick to snag some--they were really good.

We took a break at a gas station to use the restrooms when we reached St. George, Utah. We were really close to Nevada and the anticipation grew greater. I was exiting the women’s restroom when I bumped into someone’s bony body.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, backing away from the woman I had collided with. Once I took a good look at her, I was suddenly frightened. She was dressed in rags and her hair looked like a bird’s nest. Her big hoop earrings dangled from her sagging earlobes and dark circles surrounded her old, purple eyes. A gypsy, Sister Margaret would have called her.

She reeked of a scent that I couldn’t describe to myself and I took a step back. “Are you okay?” I asked her.

The woman continued to stare at me before saying something I didn’t understand. It certainly wasn’t English, but she repeated it over and over again. “Cavete,” she had said. “Cavete!”

It sounded like Latin to me. I’d briefly learned the language from the sisters at the orphanage. I didn’t know what “cavete” meant, but it was most likely an insult.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’m sorry.”

The next word was easier to understand. “Monstrum!” she exclaimed. “Ipse monstrum!”

Monster. She was calling someone a monster and it didn’t appear to be me.

I looked over my shoulders, searching for someone that could be a threat to my life, but only saw Dan approaching. “Is everything alright?” he asked. He had a bag of drinks in his hand and the woman backed away slowly.

“Ma’am,” he said. “Do you need some help?”

The old woman was pressed up against the restroom door, shivering. Her eyes were wide open and she braced herself tightly with her arms.

Dan took my hand, pulling me away from the woman. “Let’s go,” he said. We rushed out to the car and got in, driving away as soon as possible. I looked out of the back window and saw the woman standing at the entrance of the gas station shop. She stood as still as statue, watching us drive away.



Everything had gone according to plan. We arrived in Vegas just past six o’clock and got some shuteye for a couple of hours. We didn’t need to worry about rushing to see everything, because we were somehow booked for two nights.

I asked Dan how he got us such a nice room at the last minute and he simply shrugged as we walked down The Strip. “An old friend of mine from high school works at the hotel,” he said. “He’s in the rooms control department, so he found me something good. Even though they tell you that they’re all booked, they’re just waiting for someone to offer to pay more.” He tapped his hand on the pocket that contained his wallet. “And that’s exactly what I did.”

“So, the curio shop makes you plenty of money?”

Dan shook his head. “No, actually. It makes me a decent amount, but not the majority of what I have. My father’s inheritance actually handed over all of his assets to me. I was his only child and my mother passed before he did, so I was the only person left.” He suddenly cut to another subject. “By the way, that’s a beautiful dress you have on. When did you get that?”

I looked down at the purple dress that stopped halfway down my thighs. The material was form-fitting to my body on the upper half, but fanned out into a multi-layered chiffon skirt. “Oh, I bought it when you let me pick out some clothes. I thought it’d look nice on me.”

“Well, it looks great,” Dan replied. We stopped in front of a hotel called “The Mirage” as I thanked him. The waters of the hotel exterior were calm and Dan glanced at his watch.

“There should be a fountain show starting in ten minutes... Want to wait?”

I nodded as I leaned against the fencing that traced the perimeter of the hotel. The wind was blowing and I began to shiver, so Dan naturally removed his leather jacket and placed it on my shoulders. “Thanks,” I said with a smile.

“Is this one for sale?”

Dan and I turned around to see a group of drunken men standing behind us. The one that had spoken stepped closer to us and a putrid, alcoholic smell mixed with cologne filled my nose. I was sure Dan smelled it, too, but he didn’t seem to be as repulsed as I was. The stranger was a few inches taller than Dan and more than a dozen inches wider. His muscles squeezed out of his cheap, navy blue blazer and his veins were visible along his bulging neck. He was completely frightening, but Dan showed no sense of fear.

The man reached for the bottom of my dress, but Dan smacked his hand away. “You stay away from her,” Dan said, stepping in front of me. “Go back to whatever hotel you’re staying at and get some rest. There’s no need for this.”

Several people passing by looked on as the intensity rose, but kept walking. The people, unlike the residents of Aether Falls, didn’t care what was going on. Perhaps it was so common in this city that they didn’t care. Or they were just as scared as I was.

I peeked past Dan’s arm and saw the man still looking down at me. I shivered and shot my eyes to the ground.

“Since when do old men walk around Vegas with a little girl in a nice dress like that?” the man asked. He looked over his shoulder and the three other men with him agreed and started laughing. “I know a whore when I see one,” he looked at me again. “And I like this one.”

“You’re mistaken,” Dan retorted harshly. “And considering how drunk you are, you wouldn’t be up to par for a whore anyway... My daughter is not a whore and she’s certainly not up for grabs. Especially not for pathetic boys like you.”

The man pointed his finger in Dan’s face. “You better watch it, old man. Me and my buddies will take you down and snap your neck--”

“Leave him alone!” I shouted, pushing past Dan’s arm and swinging my arm. My fist collided with the man’s scruffy face and caused him to grunt in surprise.

“Mina!” Dan shouted, pushing me behind him. “Stay out of this.”

I huffed with anger and clenched my fists, ready to break the stranger’s nose.

“Oh, trust me, old man,” the man replied. “She’s into this now.” He reached for me, but was stopped by Dan’s excruciating grip on his wrist. The man cried out like a helpless child and fell to his knees.

Dan didn’t give up his hold on the man’s wrist and squeezed harder. “Stop!” the man screamed. “Let me go!”

Dan bent over to whisper in the man’s ear. When he stood upright again, he let go.

“Let’s go,” the man said, getting up and pushing his friends in the other direction. His friends protested, asking him why he was "being such a pussy" and what happened.

Dan grabbed my hand and pulled me into his arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling the anger disperse. “What did you say to him?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he replied.

I stepped out of his arms, taking a deep breath. “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked meekly. After he didn’t respond, I sighed and sat on the fencing. “There’s no way you could have hurt a young guy like that... Did you see how big he was? A jerk like him wouldn’t have walked away just by hearing you say something.”

“I don’t understand what you’re implying, Mina,” Dan said.

I hopped up onto my feet again. “I’m saying that you must have dealt with people like that before and you just haven’t told me that yet.”

Dan linked arms with me and walked us further down the sidewalk, away from The Mirage. “You’re right,” he said after a moment of silence. “I have dealt with men like him before... Before I met Myla, I worked in security for different places--clubs, corporate buildings, etcetera. I eventually learned what words make certain people tick.”

“What kinds of words?”

“Words that threaten their lives.”