“There he is! You made it,” Burt yelled as he hurried over to the bus that dropped off Drew before taking a gaggle of tourists on a day trip to Hoover Dam. It kicked up clouds of chalky dust that made Drew cough.
“Little man, why didn’t you let me send my limo?”
“I guess because I’m stubborn.” Stubborn and stupid. He felt awful. “But you can give me ten dollars for the bus. I practically had to strangle the driver to get him to drop me off here.”
“I’ve missed you,” Burt said. “Have you missed me?”
“Why couldn’t you meet me in Vegas?” Drew was not yet used to crutches. His arms hurt. His ribs hurt. His life hurt. He didn’t think he’d ever be in a good mood again. But he needed Burt’s help—the hospital bills were destroying him.
“I had a meeting here, and I wanted to show you something as soon as I could. Drew, I realized I loved you, and I’m so sorry.”
“You can’t love me right now. I can’t stay long. I told Rahim I was coming down here and…wait, where are we?” He looked in confusion at a small, drab casino. Even the lights looked dusty.
“It’s called the Rabbit’s Foot. What do you think?”
“I think there’s a reason why the bus didn’t drop anyone else off here.” Why did it matter what he thought? The motel attached was even drearier than the Silver Strike.
“You wanted me to see this because…?” Drew thought he’d already established that any kind of sex was off the table now. Also, after what happened, why did Burt still like tricking in such dumps?
“First, I gotta hear it, little man. Do you love me?”
Drew felt his anger flare. “I haven’t heard from you in six months, and with the goodbye teddy bear—”
“Right, right. You don’t have to say it. I’ve been beyond guilt-ridden that you were right about the Western. In New York, people take the subway every day and never get mugged. Hell, I’ve been to underground poker rooms in Detroit. What were the chances?”
Drew didn’t want to hear this. He turned away, squinting as he looked at the road shimmering in the fierce sunlight. “This place has all the ambience of a car wash.”
“Maybe we can fix that. I had no plans to be your lifelong nightmare, and I’m not going to be.”
Drew looked at Burt. What? Fumes from passing cars combined with the high heat left Drew feeling sick. His ears could be playing tricks.
“Is that your medical bill?” Burt said, pointing at the piece of paper Drew had removed from his wallet. “Here, gimme that, little man. They can photocopy it for me in there. And let’s get you soda. You look like you need one.”
Drew wanted to object when Burt wrapped an arm around his shoulders. As Burt helped Drew hobble to the door, Drew inhaled the fragrance of Burt’s aftershave and felt his anxiety begin to drain. He’d forgotten how much Burt made him feel protected. Moreover, this was the first time Burt had been affectionate with him in public.
Burt didn’t stop at the snack bar designed in a seventies goldenrod and burnt orange, but continued through the small gambling floor that consisted of slot machines and video poker, games discarded by other resorts years ago. Where were they going? Drew was so tired and had to focus on each step. The rug’s pattern featured large orange bubbles on a gold background. Each bubble contained a brown rabbit tipping a black top hat. If he’d had more energy, he would have rolled his eyes.
“Just a little farther. As soon as I get you seated, I’m getting my driver to bring us a wheelchair, little man.”
They made it to an archway in the back. Drew looked down a small avocado-green hallway that reminded him of the hospital. At the end was a wooden door with Drew’s name on it.
Drew Kurtz, Executive Manager.
“This is part of the reason you haven’t heard from me in months,” Burt said. “Some surprises take a while.”
Drew read it over at least ten times. Fifty. He couldn’t speak, but he found the energy to limp down the hallway.
“I’m giving you the best that I can right now. I’m sorry it’s not more.” Burt opened the door. Drew saw a small, tidy office, two large leather chairs, and a sign that, if Drew read it right, said “Coming soon, the Zanzibar.”
His rising excitement came paired with anxiety he hadn’t anticipated. “Wouldn’t they fire a manager who has trouble reading?”
“I’m the owner. I’d give it to you flat out, but you’d need to pay taxes and acquire licenses you couldn’t afford. And it needs fixing up. Will that be fun for you?”
The absurdity of Drew’s dream hit him. “I’m going to manage people? Wait, I park cars. I don’t know—”
“You never answer my questions. Did you hear me say the word ‘fun’? I think I know what your dream is. The design, the creative touches. The current manager doesn’t know…everything, but he’s going to keep taking care of the business side. Little man, I know it’s not everything you hoped for, but it’s good, right?”
Drew felt a twinge of excitement in his spine and shoulders, but he forced himself to be cynical. “How will I get out here?”
“If you’re not getting a glitter dome, then at least I can get you a driver. If you want to stay here, there’s one suite fixed up for you and uh…what’s-his-name.”
“Rahim.”
“I know.”
Drew reviewed his vision of the Zanzibar—cool, sleek, and black like the Luxor with interior fountains and soaring ceilings, then he compared it to the Rabbit’s Foot. This was not the place for fashion shows or a disco called Den of Thieves, but it was better than nothing. A lot better than nothing.
Drew nodded, holding back the urge to thank Burt. “You know I can’t give up my ass anymore.” His recovery had been better than anticipated so far, but he couldn’t let Burt have him again. He knew now he was unhappy if Rahim was unhappy.
“Maybe someday? You know I live for—”
“I can’t accept if that’s part of the deal.”
“It’s not. It’s fine, little man.” Burt bit his lip and Drew watched Burt look down in regret. “So, we’re friends. Business partners. Can a business partner get warm hugs?”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“Can I watch our videos?”
“If I said you couldn’t, would that really stop you?”
“How about every time I do, I throw in something special? Like figure out some advertising or help you plan that clothing boutique for Rahim that you don’t know I know about.”
Drew looked at his nails to hide a smile. “Yeah. Do that.”
“Can I also send you flowers every time I watch one?”
Drew shook his head. “Send me a picture of flowers with an e-mail letter. Two paragraphs at least.”
“A letter?”
“You can afford to fuck anyone, but if I’m special, then shouldn’t I be the one to make sure you’re not lonely? Writing me tells me you’re okay, and it takes your time. That shows me love. And you said you wanted me to practice reading, right?”
“What do you know? Little man was listening.” Burt forced a smile, but Drew felt gratitude and honest affection as Burt squeezed his shoulder. There was a knock at the door.
“There’s your wheelchair. Let’s get you that soda,” Burt said. “After, we’ll go back outside. Then you can tell me where you want the pool and restaurant and everything. Tell me all about the Zanzibar.”