Paradise City

I had been avoiding Alisha for two weeks.

It wasn't on purpose, I had just been busy.



Okay, it was on purpose. Excuse me for not wanting to play twenty questions with Alisha about the night that I went home with my neighbor. I hadn't seen him since. Great time for him to go out of town, by the way. I could use the absence to get my thoughts together, because even I was still unsure about what happened.

Madison came through with her promise of putting in a good word for me with her boss and I had a job interview today. I was nervous and excited.

"Callie." I had known Frank all my life. He had gone fishing with my dad many weekends, and he'd usually end up back at our house after those summer days frying fish on our stove and eating dinner with us. He was a short, white haired old man, who had battled cancer for years. But he had a big heart, and the town loved him.

"Yes, Mr. Miller?" I asked, wringing my hands together nervously after wiping them on my new khakis that my mom had bought me.

"You interested in working here?" I wasn't, really. Miller's wasn't the ideal location to work. Next to Applebees, it wasn't the ideal place to eat, either. But Frank kept the tiny bar open, pouring his heart and soul into his prized possession.

It was really just a place for the hunters or the fishermen to get drunk at after they've been out in the woods all day.

I honestly had no interest in working here whatsoever.

"Absolutely, Mr Mill-"

"Callie?"

"Yes sir?"

"You can call me Frank."

"Uh, yes sir- uh, Frank. I am very interested in working here. I heard that you needed part time help, and that's perfect for me because I'll be going to college soon and I'm not going to have the time to dedicate to a full time job."

"Okay. You're hired." He said just like that.

"What?" I asked. "That's it?"

"Callie, I've known ya since you were a little critter. If I didn't think ya had what it took to work here, you wouldn't be sitting in my office, now would ya?." We were sitting at the bar. "Look, these men in here are rough, and they don't give a damn what any one thinks. You can handle 'em. I know you'll put 'em in there place 'cause that's how ya daddy raised ya!"

He was right. Over the next five years I had been groped, cat-called, proposed to, propositioned, and near sexually assaulted on a nightly basis. But I came to love it.

One of those nights I was sitting at a corner booth rolling silverware, my last task of the evening before I was able to call it a night and go home.

Stephen, our bartender took to the karaoke stage, coughed into the mic and said, "Jim over there bet me fifty bucks that I didn't have the balls to sing karaoke. Well, I'm about to be fifty bucks richer."

I laughed as the intro to "Brick House" began. Stephen was a tall, heavy set ginger guy who was deathly allergic to beets. I remember this one time the vegetable of the day was beets and he swelled up like a balloon. I mean, even more so than normal. Somewhere in the middle of the song he lifted his shirt up, but a chorus of 'boos' came from the audience.

"Hey Cal," I heard from over the music. I looked over at the kitchen door to see my coworker, Amber, holding up the phone to me. "You've got a phone call."

"Hello?" I asked, knowing that it could only be one of my parents. James would have just texted me if he needed anything.

"Ms. Jordan, it's Officer McHannon."

I applied a layer of lipstick and rubbed my lips together. I was ready.

When Madison said she would put in a good word for me at her restaurant, I was expecting some hole-in-the-wall, two star, burger joint. I wasn't expecting to pull up to the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino on the strip. I wasn't expecting her restaurant to be TAP, one of the best, if not the best, sports bars in Las Vegas. When I was researching the city after deciding to move here, TAP had come up as a restaurant you absolutely had to eat at. I mean, the place has deep fried s'mores. I could practically feel my arteries clogging before I even stepped through the front doors.

Madison was working that day. She was dressed in all black and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in; at least the dress code wasn't some short skirt, and weird suspenders get-up like it was in many Vegas restaurants. Her crazy, wild hair was pulled back, but stuck out in many different directions.

"Hey! You made it!" She said as she hugged me. "And you're early. Good. He likes early."

She led me back, through the kitchen, to a small office. After knocking on it twice, a firm "come in" could be heard from the other side.

His name was Roger. He was the head chef and owner. He wasn't a business man, at least he didn't look like one. He was wearing a plain, navy blue t-shirt and what looked like pajama bottoms. He shook my hand firmly and invited me to sit down. Madison whispered a faint, "good luck" before exiting.

"So, Ms. Jordan, tell me about yourself."

"Well, my name is Callie Jordan. I'm twenty-two years old. I was born and raised in Wallman, Tennessee and just recently moved to Vegas. My hometown was made up of about 260 people, I kind of wanted to get out. I've only had one job my whole life, but I held it for five years. I worked there until I moved. Um-" I laughed nervously, not knowing what else to say.

Thankfully he took the hint. "And that was a place called Miller's, correct?" He thumbed through my application. I nodded. "That's a bar?"

"Yes sir. It's a sports bar. Basically all the men in town would cram themselves inside and just get drunk."

He laughed. "So you have no problem being a girl around a bunch of out of control men?"

"Not at all."

"Good. The last girl I hired realized she wasn't up for the job, which is why I'm looking for someone new. And you're friends with Madison, correct?"

Well, not really. "Yeah, she's great."

He smiled and nodded his head. "So what's your greatest strength?"

I don't have one? "I would have to say my attitude and my blunt personality."

Roger raised his eyebrows. I probably shouldn't have said that. "I like that. It's honest."

I let out a breath.

"What's your biggest weakness?"

"I don't have one." That was the biggest lie I've ever told, but employers like to hear confidence, so why not?

It caused the big man to laugh. "I think you're going to do well here. I've got your availability sheet. I'll be in touch, alright?" He jutted his hand in my direction one more time and I shook it, though I was confused. "Have a good day, Ms. Jordan."

I mumbled a "thank you", but it sounded like a question.

Madison stopped me on the way out, asking me how it went. I told her, but she didn't seem surprised at all. "He's very hard to read," she said, but assured me that he would call me back in a few days. I wasn't so sure, though. I took a takeout menu with me, just in case, for studying purposes. Rule number one of being a waitress: know the menu.



I texted her back quickly to let her know that I was sorry for ignoring her, and invited her over for pizza later. Then I sent James a quick message letting him know that I had just left my first job interview. I hadn't talked to my best friend as much as I was when I first moved to Vegas. I felt horrible about it, because I was making completely new friends here, and James was by himself in Small Town, USA.

The last thing I wanted was for us to grow apart.

When I got back to the apartment, the first thing I did was check my mailbox. Usually, I'd go a couple days without checking it, because I didn't get much. A few forwarded bills from Tennessee, a few magazines, a ValPack, and a letter. There was no return address, just my name and address scribbled on the front of an envelope in messy, blue ink.

There was a stamp in the corner; a picture of the Edinburgh Castle.

"Scotland?" I asked myself aloud as I ripped open the envelope.

It only had two words on it.



Three words, if you counted the big, blue smiley face he drew at the bottom. I sighed loudly and crumpled up the scrap piece of paper and threw it over my kitchen counter in the direction of the trash can.

A few hours later Alisha was knocking at my door. For the first time since I had met her, she wasn't dressed up. She wasn't wearing any make up, her hair wasn't curled to perfection, she wasn't wearing chunky jewelry. I wasn't dressed up, either; wearing just a pair of black sweats and my dad's old ACDC shirt that I had cut to make more comfortable.

She brushed past me and made a beeline straight for the couch.

No 'hello', 'how ya doing', nothing.

"Lish? What's wrong?"

"Reece broke up with me." Reece was Alisha's extremely posh boyfriend. I wasn't a fan of his from the get-go, and that didn't change the second time I met him at the club, either. Any guy who talks to their 'bros' about getting laid, regardless if it's by your girlfriend or not, is not the kind of guy any girl should be dating. Especially someone as gorgeous as Alisha.

"Good." I said and immediately kicked myself for doing so. She looked completely dejected. "I mean, I'm so sorry to hear that."

She laughed, but only for a moment. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

I sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I just really thought you were going to interrogate me about Dean and I didn't really want to talk about it."

"That's it? I thought you hated me."

"Why would I hate you?"

"I don't know."

I sat down beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. "Lish, you're like my only friend here."

"You too." She replied quietly. My eyebrows came together. That couldn't be true. Alisha had a million friends. "I'm serious, Cal. Those people that I go to the club with, they don't really like me. They like my job. They like my status. They like that I know people and can get them on the list. They like the free drinks. They didn't really like me."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"No it's true." She persisted. "No one texts me to ask me how I am. They ask 'where's the next party at', or 'is anything happening this weekend'. and now Reece broke up with me. Like half my friends were his friends."

I didn't know what to say. This was a surprise to me. Alisha was, in my eyes, the epitome of perfection. Sure, her tan was fake, and she wasn't a real blonde, but she seemed to have everything together. She was twenty-four, she had a stable job, she lived in a house, and owned a Mercedes that was completely paid for. I only wished my life was that stable.

"Us small town girls gotta stick together." I said, giving her a side hug. "And screw Reece. That asshole did not deserve you."

She only gave me a smug smile and wiped a tear from her eye.

"Look, let's order like three pizzas, extra cheese, and cinnamon sticks, and you can pick some movies. How's that sound? You can stay here tonight. We'll cheer you up, Callie style." She nodded. "Alright, what's the number for Papa John's?"

"254-7272."

She chose Frozen, Easy A, Tangled, and Pitch Perfect. I was more of a Nicolas Sparks girl myself when I was sad, but if Alisha wanted to cry over Rapunzel then I wasn't going to complain. I had never been put in this situation before. James had never come crying to me about a girl breaking up with him, and that was because James was gay, and in a town of only 262 people there weren't many other gay guys around his age.

And I had never gone and cried to James about someone breaking up with me because I cried to my parents about it instead, and because I had really only had one boyfriend. And that was Jared, the douchebag.

But if I had gone to a friend and cried about my boy problems, this is how I would want to be treated.

Alisha stood up from the couch and stretched after Tangled had ended. "Do you want another slice?" She asked. I shook my head. "Do you mind if I have another slice?"

"Yes, please don't eat any of the pizza that I bought for you." I said sarcastically.

I took the DVD out of the player and popped it back in the case. Next was Pitch Perfect.

"What's this?" I heard her ask from the kitchen. She was holding up Dean's crumpled up letter that I had completely forgot about. "Hi neighbor?" She asked and looked at me, holding up the wrinkled note for me to see. "Is this from Dean?"

"Uh, yeah. He sent that to me from Scotland, I think."

"He sent you a letter from Scotland? Girl, you must've put it on him good that night he took you home."

I rolled my eyes. "I did not put anything on him."

"But he's sending you letters from Scotland?"

"He's a creep!" I replied snatching the letter from her hand and pinning it to the fridge. "And besides, that's hardly a letter."

"Girl, you need to hop on that before the ship sails. I know girls that would kill to be in your position."

"Ew, no. Why? He's a complete jerk, and he's balding."

"Don't you know who he is?" She asked. "That's Dean Ambrose."

"And that means what to me?"

"He's a WWE Superstar."