Yvonne grabbed the card and stood up,
flashing her smile again. “Thanks guys, I will be back in a
minute,” she said, then spun around and disappeared. Instantly
replacing her was a short Mexican man who brought over a large
silver tray containing ten tumbler-sized plastic glasses, two
medium-sized buckets of ice and one slightly larger bucket with a
scooper in it. Within two minutes, a different Mexican man arrived
with a tray containing six sugar-free Red Bulls and one large
carafe each of cranberry juice, orange juice and soda water. The
carafes were placed on the table next to the glasses and the
buckets of ice. The music changed from 2Pac’s
California
Love
to Beyonce and Sean Paul’s
Baby Boy
. Yvonne
returned carrying two opened bottles of Stolichnaya. She bent down
in a fluid motion and jammed one of the bottles into one of the
medium-sized buckets of ice. Then she sat down next to Alex, her
legs set apart just enough to be sexy without ruining her elegant
image. Without saying a word, she grabbed four glasses from the
tray, set them upright, and filled them about two-thirds full with
ice from the larger bucket. Once completed, she asked who wanted a
drink. Roger spoke up first, requesting a vodka-cranberry, heavy on
the vodka. Yvonne poured similar drinks for the other three and
said cheers to everyone.
Once she was gone, Gary stood up and raised
his glass toward the middle of the group. “Cheers, dudes,” he said.
The other three stood and all clinked plastic glasses. Nothing else
was said, so they began to drink. A thirty-four second version of
Cowboy
by Kid Rock provided the backdrop. Mike chose to
finish his entire glass, so he reached for the now-two-thirds-full
bottle of Stolichnaya and began to pour himself a new one.
The boys spent the next forty minutes
mingling mostly with each other. One group of three ambitious, but
not cute, girls forced their way into their area and sat down. Gary
poured them drinks, light on vodka. Mike commented to Roger that
“they are basically Fours”, and would feel somewhat guilty the next
morning when he couldn’t remember if he had said it loud enough
that they may have overheard. Alex found a way to escort them out
of section before they could pour themselves a second round. Alone
again, the guys alternated between sitting on the couch and
standing against the rail over the dance floor, which was now
completely packed. The first bottle was finished.
At half past midnight, a stunningly sexy
blonde wearing a pink silk mini-dress which very well may have
originally sold as lingerie strolled into the booth on unusually
high-heeled black shoes. She immediately raised a long, creamy leg
and lowered it between Alex’s legs, then sat down on his lap,
though really it was more like only his right thigh. She swiveled
so both her legs were between his, placing her left arm around his
neck and pressing her large left breast against Alex’s right
shoulder. She introduced herself as Mariah and asked if she could
have a drink. Alex asked Roger, who was again sitting next to him,
to do him a favor and fix her a nice cocktail. Roger complied.
Across the booth, Mike and Gary ended
whatever conversation they were having and did little but stare at
this new arrival into their little world. Mike leaned toward Gary
and said, “Jumping Jesus, look at that.”
Gary: “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have
our first Ten of the night.”
Mike: “She looks a bit slutty.”
Gary: “What is your point?”
Mike: “Yeah, I guess you are right. Alex is
amazing. I don’t know how he does it.”
Gary: “Fuckin’ A.”
Mike: “I have to say, sometimes it pisses me
off.”
Gary: “Jealousy is a female trait, my friend.
Be happy for him.”
Mike: “Yeah, I guess so . . . But still. Wow,
she is unbelievable.”
Gary: “Fuckin’ A.”
Meanwhile, Alex was getting to know
Mariah.
Alex: “How did I get to be so lucky?”
Mariah (lifting one leg up to show her shoes,
revealing the entirety of her upper thigh): “Well, my feet were
getting tired in these shoes so I needed a place to sit down. Then
I saw you and I just really wanted to sit on you.”
Alex: “Well, I want you to know I am quite
particular about who I let sit on me, so you should feel
honored.”
Mariah (looking directly at him with large
blue eyes): “I do. I think I could sit on you all night if you
wanted me to.”
Alex: “Don’t you think you might start to get
a little heavy?”
Mariah: “Well, maybe we could switch and you
could be on top for a while.”
Alex: “It might look funny to people if I was
sitting on your lap.”
Mariah: “You’re silly. I like you.”
Alex: “You are silly too.”
Mariah: “You have a nice body, honey.”
Alex: “Thanks. I used to be in a Bow-Flex
infomercial.”
Mariah: “You are an actor?”
Alex: “No, never mind. It was kind of a
joke.”
Mariah: “So, what do you do for money?”
Alex: “I am a carpenter.”
Mariah: “Seriously?”
Alex: “Yeah, you know, just like the Big
Guy.”
Mariah: “Who?”
Alex: “You know . . . Jesus.”
Mariah (touching his nose with her right
index finger): “You’re silly.”
Alex: “No, I am just kidding, I work in
finance.”
Mariah: “So are you some kind of agent?”
Alex: “Umm . . . Something like that.”
Mariah (nodding to the rest of the group with
her head): “That’s really cool. And are these your buddies?”
Alex: “Yeah, these are my best friends,
mostly from college. What about you, are you here alone?”
Mariah: “No, I am with you.”
Alex: “Good point.”
Mariah: “So, what plans do you and your
buddies have for the rest of the night?”
Alex: “Nothing too defined. Party here for a
while and then see what sounds good.”
Mariah: “Well, I have an idea for you. I am
going to be at Spearmint Rhino later. You should definitely come
see me.”
Alex: “You are working there?”
Mariah: “Yep. I will be there until five. I
really hope you can join me.”
Alex (rapidly losing interest): “So you are a
stripper?”
Mariah: “Yes, sweetheart.”
Alex (sitting up to raise her off of him):
“Okay, I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”
Mariah stood up and straightened her outfit,
then gave Alex a kiss on the cheek and waved to the other guys
before walking toward the exit. Alex, who along with the rest of
the group was now more than a little buzzed, noticed she entered
one of the other booths across the walkway and sat on someone’s
lap.
Gary: “What was that all about?”
Alex: “It turns out she is a stripper. She
said she wants me to meet her at the club later, but I think she
just comes here to get a few free drinks and try to get people who
look like they can spend some money to go over and buy dances from
her later.”
Gary: “Interesting strategy.”
Mike: “Which club?”
Alex: “The Rhino.”
Mike: “Maybe we should go there after
this.”
Alex: “Nah, I have no desire to go to a strip
club tonight, so whatever. But you are right, it probably is a good
strategy. You can’t blame someone for doing some marketing.”
Gary: “Yeah, whatever. But damn, she was
fucking hot.”
Alex: “No doubt about that. That’s one
interesting thing about Vegas. It keeps getting better and better,
but at the same time it is changing in a weird way.”
Gary: “How do you mean?”
Alex: “Well, just think about when we used to
come out here. First of all, look around at what the chicks are
wearing now. Also, think about it; I just had a stripper sit down
in my lap in our booth at the club. That’s a bit strange, right? I
don’t think it would have happened even a few years ago.”
Don’t Cha
by the Pussycat Dolls began
to play.
Alex (waving his hand around at nothing):
“Here is another great example. Basically the Pussycat Dolls are
the next generation of the Spice Girls, right? But the Spice Girls
were kind of cute and nice while the Pussycat Dolls are simply in
your face about sex and money.”
Gary: “I don’t know if that’s true. What did
the Spice Girl’s song say? If you want to be my lover, you’ve got
to get with my friends. I mean, that’s pretty hard core, don’t cha
think?”
Alex: “I don’t think they literally meant you
had to boff their friends before they would sleep with you.”
Mike: “That is what it sounded like to
me.”
Alex: “I don’t think so, dude.”
Everyone took a moment to contemplate this
while listening to the song.
“
See, I don’t care, but I don’t think
she’s gonna want to share . . .
Oooohh. Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was
hot like me?
Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak
like me?”
Gary: “I liked that blonde Spice Girl.”
Roger (to Gary): “You are weird.”
Roger (to Alex): “So, the new chicks are
hotter. Big deal. Why are you complaining about it?”
Because it was too loud for all four of them
to hold a conversation together, Roger moved back to the railing
overlooking the dance floor without waiting for an answer.
Alex: “I am not complaining about it, but it
is interesting. Everything is more material now than it used to be.
Everything centers on money and sex. I mean think about the fact
that we are buying four-hundred-dollar bottles of vodka. For that,
they send a hot girl over to serve it to us and then the chicks in
the club know you have money so they want to drink with you.”
Gary: “I think they come to drink with us
because they know we will give them free drinks, not because they
necessarily want to fuck you.”
Mike: “Ninety-nine percent of girls are
whores in one way or another. Don’t ever forget that.”
With that, Mike stepped away to the table to
add a topper of vodka to his half-full drink and then joined Roger
on the railing.
Gary: “Actually, this city is set up well for
girls. They can pretty much drink for free off of chumps like us
who are paying a fortune. Then, if they do want to go home with
someone, they can pick whatever guy they want as long as they are
decent looking themselves. Meanwhile, we are paying hundreds of
dollars and will probably go home alone.”
Alex: “I thought you weren’t interested.”
Gary: “That isn’t what I meant. I am just
trying to make a point.”
Alex: “Anyway, Chief, you aren’t going home
alone because either Roger or I will likely be sharing a bed with
you.”
Gary: “Oh yeah. Sweet, I almost forgot.”
Alex (laughing): “Anyway, you are starting to
sound like Mike.”
Gary: “Yeah, maybe. Sorry.”
Alex: “My original point was just that
society is becoming more materialistic than it was. Have you
noticed almost every other table here bought Grey Goose? There is
just no way a bottle of Grey Goose can be worth fifty dollars or
whatever more than Stoli. I would argue it isn’t even as good at
the same price, but aside from that, the only reason to buy it is
to show that you are a baller and have money. People don’t even buy
houses now based on where they want to live; they’ll choose one
they think will appreciate more, or even just to flip. Also, look
at shit like that Sweet Sixteen show on MTV. It’s fucking
disgusting, but these kids are all about how much cash you have. I
saw one where this high school chick had a VIP section at her own
birthday party.”
Gary: “Yeah, I happened to see that one.
Sarah likes that show. That was gross.”
Alex: “You let Sarah watch MTV?”
Gary: “Yeah, just not the dating shows like
Next
or
Date My Mom.
But even those she tries to
TiVo.”
Alex: “Your three-year-old knows how to
TiVo?”
Gary: “Yeah, they are smart little fuckers.
You have to watch them all the time.”
Alex: “Also, basically every rap song is
about how much money the person has and how many chicks he is
nailing. Since there really isn’t any new rock music anymore, rap
is now the main pop culture. I am the whitest guy around and ninety
percent of the songs I download lately are rap or hip-hop.”
Gary: “I think rappers have always been
singing about how much money they have and how many chicks they are
nailing. Rock was basically the same thing if you really think
about it.”
Alex: “It’s worse now. Maybe it’s all
cyclical and this is what it was like in the eighties. Probably it
will reverse again at some point, but I just feel everything is
moving in a direction of the idea that money is the only important
thing.”
Gary: “Kind of a scary idea when you have a
small daughter.”
Alex: “Totally. It is something I have been
thinking about a lot lately. In my mind I call it the Paris Hilton
effect. Sometimes I think Paris fucked up society.”
Gary: “How’s that?”
Alex: “She is probably the biggest celebrity
in America right now, right? But the thing is, she doesn’t actually
do anything that adds any value. She isn’t a movie star. She isn’t
an athlete. She isn’t really even a model. Basically she is the
daughter of rich people with a recognizable last name who parties a
lot. But she has become bigger than all those people who do
something just by making herself synonymous with the image of
glamour and money.”
Gary: “That’s hot!”
Alex: “Exactly.”
Gary: “Didn’t she just release an album?”
Alex: “Do you know anyone who bought it?”
Gary: “Good point. Well, she is sort of a
movie star if you think about it.”
Alex (laughing quickly, then becoming serious
again): “Okay, true. Even that supports the point though. She has
become even more famous because it turns out she is something of a
slut. But more than anything, she made it fashionable for money and
sex to be what people respect and strive for above all else. The
money
itself
is the only goal now, not how you get it.”