The Lovers - Pete Davidson {FINISHED}

TwO

(edited)
woman - harry styles

      "Fuck the cops, baby." A strand of my faux blonde hair twirled in my fingers as the sound of a fist colliding with wood echoed through the occupied room filled with gambling addicts. To each their own addiction.

      I could care less about gambling really, it was such a waste of money and so obviously rigged. But yet these fools still went out every night spending every goddamn cent of theirs on it. No wonder they were dirt poor. I took a pity out on them really, they were addicted to loosing money instead of earning it.

      Pursing my lips I look at the man before me. Ira. He was frustrated to say the least having been fucked over by one of his workers. His eyes never once met my own while they stared out at the blaring machines that each had a person to at least one. Ira was different from others, he didn't have an addiction. Or so, I think. If he did have one he was good at hiding it from everyone.

      I had my own addictions and I owned up to it. I was addicted to attention and money. Nothing harmful or pitiful at all about it. I was proud of it. All my hardwork and time went into those two things, sure I got only one of those things most of the time but one thing is better than nothing at all.

      My phone buzzed in the back pocket of my jeans causing a grin to light up on my face that Ira still continued to avoid.

      "I'm going to work now, pick me up after?" Standing up from the booth was the only thing to turn his attention towards me. The flashing bulbs from the machines lit up his face magnificently, each changing of the colors reflecting back onto his pale skin. Red, white, red, white.

      "Yeah, whatever." Such a romantic. Leaning down to him I press a gentle kiss onto his clean shaved skin. He absolutely hated scruffle of any kind on his face, said it made him feel old.

       Shoving open the glass doors I'm welcomed immediately by the dense hot night weather. The night sky was a midnight purple with no twinkle of any star, the pros of living in Las Vegas. No starry night or Van Gogh willing to paint a masterpiece of it. But yet still people yearned to live in this city destined for only the miserable and the sinful.

      It was no wonder Ira wanted to move here so badly. The miserable person being I and the sinful being him. We fit in perfectly.

      The club wasn't that far from the casino only a few buildings down. It wasn't exactly on the Strip, just a few blocks down from it. But in the most perfect location, for me anyways. We always got a mix of the locals and the stray tourists who "got lost" searching for their hotel. In the end, it was more money for my lover and I.

      A group of men fall out of the building with the door slamming shut behind their bodies. They were drunk it was pretty obvious, their slurred conversation mixed in with the fact they couldn't walk straight. No smart man show up to their wives like this on a Saturday night, it was too obvious. Tourists.

      Tourists absolutely bugged the hell out of me. They acted like they ran the city after spending one night at The Strip when I know for a fact they wouldn't be able to last a week in North Vegas. Even I frequented less around there unless Ira made me or there was some event going on there. It wasn't a bad place, really, every part of town has a bad spot but I just didn't dare.

      As the group passes by so does the stench of hard liquor. A smell I've grown to love and hate for my own reasons. I make my way inside out of the heat as I glance at the familiar faces as well as the unfamiliar ones. The greedy faces that weren't so greedy with paper. Ironic.

     Pushing back the curtain that blocked off the main area from the eerie hallway I enter inside ready to face all the drama that was of the locker room. On a good night everyone wasn't so bitchy but I can just tell that tonight it won't be one of those nights.