Lady of Sin City (BRENDON URIE)

06

"Sometimes loneliness makes the loudest noise." - Aaron Ben-Ze'ev

From: Brendon

To: Lolita

Were you at the Lotus of Siam last night?

From: Lolita

To: Brendon

And if I was, Mr. Urie?

From: Brendon

To: Lolita

BRENDON. I was there last night and I think I saw you and your friends.

From: Lolita

To: Brendon

They are not my "friends",  Brendon. I do not wish to associate myself with them at all, ever again. I have already taken my leave from Eduardo.

From: Brendon

To: Lolita

Congrats!..?  Something tells me you're not satisfied.

From: Lolita

To: Brendon

Ah, you know me too well. I am an empty person and I thought this would provide me with some...relief? Not the right word, but I hope you understand what I mean. I feel just as hollow and cold as before.

From: Brendon

To: Lolita

You can never just change something that quickly. Let's celebrate! Maybe you're in shock.

From: Lolita

To: Brendon

I just quit my job, Brendon. I'm not hopping right on that bus again.

-

Brendon put his phone down and blushed timidly even though she wasn't there next to him to see it. He let his thumbs hover over the screen absently, as if waiting for sparks to fly and for a connection to form between skin and electronic and the words could magically text themselves. However, magic was not real (or at least wasn't on Brendon's side).

-

"My name." Lolita stared at the card below her eyes, reading it again for the hundredth time in the past minute. Now that she was done with that, Lolita Jackson was dead. She could move on, use her real name, her real everything. Maybe leave Nevada, maybe even the country. Study something, perhaps even find a job. She wasn't dumb. But it seemed so unlikely that she was out in the first place, that repeating the words on the little index card seemed just wrong, foreign even. "Carla Wright."

-

He was just about to type something witty in response when his phone buzzed, notifying him of a text message from her. Adjusting his glasses, he read it. "By the way, I'd prefer if you called me Carla." Brendon smiled, changing her contact name. Now, he didn't have to wait for an answer to come to him. He just typed it out casually: "So, to totally match that cute name, can I see your probably equally cute face and take you out to dinner?" He didn't really wait for the reply as he slowly slipped on his shoes.

"Mm, not fancying a meal really. A nightcap, perhaps?"

Brendon laughed a little, sinking back onto his bed in his shoes. He'd only heard the term used a few times on television. He looked at the time and nodded to himself, replying, "Certainly, m'lady. Meet me in the Bellagio lobby as soon as you can. I'll be there, probably looking at those dumbass and slightly terrifying things on the ceiling." Brendon smiled as it showed she had read the text and was answering. When she confirmed the destination, he checked to make sure the laces of his sneakers were tight enough. Satisfied by the knots, he grabbed his hotel card key and put it in his pocket and checked his battery percentage; 82%. It was more than enough. He opened the door to his room and closed it behind him; the hallway was mostly empty since housekeeping only did their cleaning errands in the morning and most people were either in their rooms or down in the casino. Brendon slipped into an empty elevator and went down to the ground floor, looking up as he waited. The door chimed before opening and he exited, hurrying to the lobby. The Bellagio hotel was enormous, and its lobby extravagant. He waited ten or so minutes, pretending to be incredibly interested in his phone despite the weak reception.

"You said you were a part of a band, right? Didn't Google you but you have a musician's look to you." Lo- no, it was Carla, she told him, breathlessly exclaimed. Brendon allowed himself to fully take in every detail about her appearance, having only seen her before from an angle. She had light green eyes and messy, half-brushed golden curls pulled back with a bohemian style headband. Wearing a baggy tunic and denim shorts that barely poked out from beneath the huge fabric of the shirt and white moccasins, Carla didn't look like just the day before she slept with people for a living. Compared to his jeans and white t-shirt, she looked summery and free, kinda like a...bee, he thought. She too seemed to be absorbing his appearance in disbelief. They hugged quickly before making their way out of the hotel as hastily as possible. Late night traffic was sparse but, unfortunately, still existent. The Strip was a very nocturnal place, as Brendon learned during his stay.

"Apparently there's this pretty sweet Irish pub in New York New York called 'Nine Fine Irishmen'."

"That hotel and Venice are kind of scary because of their interiors are just so..realistic I guess? But I've heard of that place before. They close at 11, so we don't have a lot of time."

"Forty minutes." Brendon checked his phone.

"It'll take us like ten to get there if we don't hurry up!" Carla laughed, and he shook his head no because he knew what she was about to do. She did it nonetheless, picking up a jog and then after budging past a small cluster of drunk ladies, began to sprint. Brendon laughed in disbelief, shoving past the laughing girls (one wolf whistled in his direction, another pointed out his butt) and he ignored them as he ran after Carla.

"Come back!" He yelled.

"Run faster, then!" She laughed back.

{a/n} Terrible filler that makes me wanna punch myself in the gut. Since this is only a short story I'm ending it at 10 chapters, mwahahahahahaha. I know I'm a terrible human bean. Yes, bean. Check out project vessel if you're a fan of twenty one pilots and Twitter and Exes if you're a FOB fan.