Cherry Cola Fantasy

Chapter 2: Stop Crying Your Heart Out

"It hurts when you call me that," Luke clutched the pay phone and whimpered. His back was pressed to the cold, metal box, and his boots were sliding down the pavement. Any second now, he would slip too far and fall. Gravity continued to push him away from the phone. He allowed it to happen.

"What? Your fucking name? Maybe you should've thought of that, Luke," The boy said on the other line. Luke whined again and finally stood up straight, preventing the fall. The short cord attached to the phone curled around his body, keeping him trapped to it.

"I-I-I don't understand how you could just hate someone after everything! Brian, please," Luke looked up at the Las Vegas sign. He was finally there. Everything was so bright and distracting,  but before he could enjoy himself he had to make a phone call. The phone call he always made.

"Goodbye, Luke."

And just like that, he was gone again. Another painful thirty seconds to add to the list of memories. Luke hissed and slammed the phone down in the box. He carefully ducked out of the trap he created with the cord.

"What a waste of a quarter!" He dried his eyes on his leather jacket. Luke hated that he cried so much.

Luke had left a lot behind in his hometown. He wanted Brian to come with him, but of course, Brian didn't approve of Luke's dreams. No one did. Luke missed Brian. It wasn't like when he got mad at his parents; Luke thought of Brian every time he looked up at the desert sky. Brian was Luke's muse, and before he knew it, the other man was gone.

It gave Luke this complex. Luke believed he was destined to die at twenty-seven. Cold and alone would he sit, dying of a drug addiction. He knew it would come sooner or later. Without Brian, the clock seemed to tick faster.

Luke checked into a rundown motel simply to have a place to store his belongings. He didn't plan on sleeping tonight. It was within walking distance of a huge, glowing casino. Everything was working out pretty well. After all, Luke had been planning the trip since he was ten.

The musician was emotional, but he had ways of toughening up. It was the story of his life. Luke was born sensitive, and he would die that way. At least, tears make for wonderful songs.

The chains on his pants slapped against his thighs, and he let out a sigh when he opened the front door to the golden palace of gambling.

Luke's glossy eyes caught the ambiance of hot pink neon. The leftover tears stuck to his eyes like cigarette smoke on fabric.

Girls, Girls, Girls

"Neat," Luke mumbled. He rolled his eyes at the idea of strippers. In his pocket, he had about a thousand dollars to gamble. All that was left to do was win and start his own record company.

One step at a time.

Luke noticed that there was a couple poker games going on. Tables upon tables of green felt and piles of cards caught his vision. The neon was worse inside the main room. It almost gave him a headache. It was cold in the casino. The air left goosebumps on Luke's exposed arms. A strong bass line coming from a jukebox narrated Luke's steps towards the front desk. The receptionist was waiting with a curious expression.

"You have to be twenty-one to gamble," She said when Luke laid all of his cash on the counter.

"I would like all the poker chips that this can buy me. I just turned twenty-one months ago, actuality," Luke smirked, practically cutting her off.

"Oh, okay big shot," She smirked back, "Let me see some I.D."

Luke slapped his driver's license on the counter next to the money. His palms were beginning to grow clammy. Luke never expected a challenge at the register.