Just Deserts in Las Vegas Page 4

  “No! I’m an influencer now. I just need a few thousand more followers and I can start charging for my posts, and then—”

  “I don’t know what any of that means, but I can tell you this: it’s not a real job. Taking pictures of yourself all day every day is not how you make money in this world.”

  “Yes, it is,” Pepper said sullenly.

  “You should take a page out of your friend Rachel’s book. She has her head screwed on right. A real job, and a husband with a real job too. That’s what you should be doing, instead of all this messing around.”

  A loud cough sounded from behind us. It was old Abner, looking down on us from his horse with his eyebrows raised. He didn’t need to say anything. It was like being caught by a high school principal doing something we shouldn’t have been doing. Shuffling uncomfortably, we turned around and raised our heads, looking around nonchalantly as if we hadn’t been engrossed in the argument that was still carrying on inside the cabin behind us.

  “About to open up the old saloon, if you’d like to have a look.”

  “That sounds like a very good idea,” Nanna said quickly. “Come on, everyone.”

  There was a shuffling of feet and exchanges of glances between the various couples before we all started to make a move in Abner’s direction. At least a few of our companions wanted to continue listening in, but not so much as to admit it. I was happy to leave. I think we already got the gist of what Pepper’s grandmother thought of her proposed nuptials already.

  Abner slowly walked down the street atop his horse, white Stetson almost gleaming in the late afternoon sun. We trailed behind him like a posse he’d just rounded up.

  “She has a good point,” Rachel said to Hunter, me, and anyone else who cared to listen as we fell out of earshot of the cabin.

  “You think?” I asked, curious to hear more of her opinion. I didn’t know any of these people well yet, but if they were going to become a part of Ian’s life, and I was going to spend the whole weekend with them, then I should get to know them better.

  “Financial stability is very important. That’s what we think, don’t we, babe?”

  “Absolutely,” Hunter confirmed. “And we’re nearly there ourselves.”

  “Nearly there?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Five more years.” Hunter paused to let that sink in. It didn’t sink very far because I didn’t know what he meant yet. “In five more years, Rachel will be thirty, and we’ll be retired. That’s our goal. We’ve got an amount of money in mind, and when we reach it we’re going to stop working and start a family. Aren’t we, babe?”

  “That’s right, babe. Then maybe we’ll start a little lifestyle business, won’t we, babe?”

  If she retired in five years, she would be about the same age that I am now. I wasn’t about to retire anytime soon. Not even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t. What would I do if I did? Sit around eating cupcakes all day? Go on cruises? Become a connoisseur and start traveling the world trying all the best restaurants? It sounded like a sure-fire path to an unhealthy body and a rotting mind.

  “A lifestyle business?” Simone asked. “What’s that? Just something you kind of do for fun?” She had slipped in beside us and was intrigued by what she’d just heard.

  Of course Simone herself was, in a way, retired. At least she didn’t have a job, and didn’t need one if what Sally had told us about her wealth was true. She certainly seemed to keep herself busy, though.

  “Yeah. A lifestyle business is one that’s not too stressful, something you just do for a bit of fun and some side income.”

  “Like opening a ghost town,” Simone said thoughtfully, her head turning to re-examine the boarded-up wooden buildings.

  “Yes, that could be an idea. Especially if you hired staff to do all the day-to-day management. I think Pepper’s grandmother may be taking on a lot herself. But it could be done in a more relaxed manner if you’re not just trying to make money from it.”

  “If I owned a ghost town, I could be the sheriff,” Simone said excitedly.

  “No,” Antonio said emphatically. “The sheriff must be a man. It must be me. You can be a saloon girl.”

  Simone smacked Antonio playfully on his arm. “No way. You can be the saloon girl, and I’ll keep the town free of varmints and crooks.”

  Antonio seemed flabbergasted at the very prospect and shut his mouth again.

  “Don’t you think you’d be bored living in a ghost town?” I asked Simone. From what little I knew of her lifestyle, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had called a helicopter to get her after an hour or two more of our relative isolation. Not that she could get a cell signal to do so.

  “No way. I’m never bored. There’s no such thing as boring situations, only boring people.”

  I smiled at her. Interesting. I suspected she had the kind of money that conveniently let her avoid most of the boring situations us regular folk find ourselves in. I’d like to see her claim it’s impossible to be bored after spending a day cleaning her home, lining up at the DMV, or waiting to talk to a bank teller.

  “Here it is,” Ian said, happily pointing up at the wooden saloon sign.

  Abner halted outside the door, tied his horse up outside, and unhooked a large key ring from his belt. He inserted a long metal key that looked to be even older than him into the door of the saloon and unlocked it. He pulled it wide open and shifted a rock in front of it to stop it from blowing closed. Next, he opened the wooden shutters that covered all of the front windows before ushering us inside.

  “Welcome to the Silver Bend Saloon. You’re the first customers in ninety years.”

  “It’s wonderful,” I said brightly.

  “Very quaint,” Nanna offered.

  “It’s got so much character,” Simone said.

  “There could be spiders hiding in the corners,” Ian said with his face scrunched with anxiety.

  He was probably right. But despite the tavern’s age, it seemed surprisingly dust-free inside. Although everything seemed antique, it had been cleaned and polished, and the air didn’t have the mustiness to it I would have expected in a bar that hadn’t seen a customer in almost a century.

  Along the left-hand wall as we entered was a long wooden bar top, and it was behind this that Abner now stood, facing us with an inscrutable look. The light inside the saloon was dim, and our eyes were still adjusting. There was no electric lighting here, and so the only illumination came through the windows and open door.

  From behind the counter, Abner lifted up four lanterns and then proceeded to light each one in turn. He then walked back from behind the bar and hung them up on the wooden support columns that rose from the floor up to the ceiling in the middle of the room. With the daylight still flooding into the bar from outside, the lanterns didn’t make much difference.

  “It’ll be dark soon,” he explained. “It gets dark quick out here.”

  “Sounds like it’s about time for a drink then,” Hunter said.

  “A drink! This is a good idea!” Antonio said enthusiastically, clapping his hands together for emphasis.

  Abner walked back behind the bar before addressing us again. “And what drinks did y’all have in mind?”

  “Ooh, ooh, I want a Cosmopolitan,” Sally said brightly.

  Rachel grabbed Sally by the arm in sisterly camaraderie and announced that she wanted a Cosmopolitan too.

  “This seems like an old-fashioned kind of place, so I’ll have an Old Fashioned, if you can, pardner,” Hunter said in an attempt at a cowboy voice.

  “Just a Coke for me, thanks,” I said, a request that Ian echoed.

  “Two glasses of Malbec for us,” Antonio said, speaking for him and Simone.

  We all turned to Nanna to see what she would ask for. She cocked her head slightly, looked straight at Abner, and said, “Whiskey. Straight.”

  “Really, Nanna?” I nudged her in disapproving surprise at her order.

  She just gave me an enigmatic
smile in response.

  Abner was a man of action rather than words and immediately got to work. He leaned down behind the counter and then lined up glasses along the bar. He did not seem to have a selection, and I could see the frowns on the other guests’ faces as he failed to produce either cocktail or wine glasses.

  Next, he produced a bottle of whiskey from a shelf under the counter and began to fill each glass about a third of the way. There were some mutterings and rumblings beside me, but no one said anything yet. When all the glasses were filled with the amber liquid, Abner looked up at us again.

  “No electricity. No cold drinks. No cocktails. No wine. Whiskey, or nothing.”

  “Nothing, thanks,” Ian said quickly.

  “Suit yourself.” Abner slid one glass off the end of the row of drinks and grasped it for himself.

  “How authentic,” Simone announced brightly, clearly not bothered by the lack of Argentinian wine.

  “When in Rome,” Rachel said. Sally shrugged in resigned agreement with her. Everyone else walked forward to pick up their glasses of whiskey. Nanna got one for me and handed it over.

  “This’ll wake you up,” she said to me with a mischievous grin.

  “More like put me to sleep.”

  “Sun’s about to set,” Abner announced. “Worth a look.”

  “I love sunsets,” Sally said, grabbing Ian’s arm. “Come on.”

  Sally and Ian led the way out, the rest of us following, each clutching our glass of warm whiskey.

  When we stepped outside, the light had already noticeably changed. The sky had turned rosy, and the street seemed to be bathed in a beautiful orange glow. The town was aligned so that Main Street went from east to west and, looking straight down past the saloon, we could see the sun beginning to set, now a bright orange circle that seemed to be moving down toward the horizon, the bottom edge already touching.

  “Wow,” Simone said. “When you spend half your time traveling the world, sometimes you forget just how pretty it can be back home.”

  “Is that right?” Nanna said.

  None of the rest of us had a good answer to Simone’s observation, since we had to do things like work or study and couldn’t spend our time flitting across the globe.

  In meditative silence, the whole group of us watched as the sun sank lower and the sky turned into a range of majestic purples and burgundies and rosy pinks. I barely dared to breathe, not wanting to ruin the moment.

  “Oh! Yay!” came a loud voice from behind us.

  I wanted to groan but turned with slightly arched eyebrows and the kind of tight-lipped smile which I hoped would convey a meaning of please be quiet and enjoy this wondrous natural spectacle. It didn’t. Apparently, it conveyed a meaning of make loads of noise and interrupt this beautiful moment.

  Pepper skipped toward us, her phone already in her hand. “Sunset! I love sunsets! Let’s do sunset photos! Here, someone get a picture of me pinching the sun between my thumb and index finger.” She waggled her phone in front of her to get someone to take it.

  And just like that, the blazing sunset was ruined.

  Chapter Six

  The sun went down fast, and as soon as the orange-red glow had disappeared from the sky we all went back inside, arms wrapped around us as the desert air rapidly lost its heat.

  Inside, the tavern had taken on a cozy atmosphere. Abner hadn’t joined us outside, instead using the time to build a roaring fire in the saloon’s fireplace. Immediately we made a beeline for the crackling flames, pulling up old wooden chairs to huddle around it.

  “I just love fires,” Pepper announced. Not to us, of course, but to her phone which she turned to focus on the flames.

  “It’s romantic, isn’t it?” Sally said to Ian. She spoke quietly, but they had pulled up their seats next to me so I could hear what she said. Ian shifted his seat so the two chairs were touching, and then wrapped an arm over her shoulder.

  It wasn’t very romantic for me. All I had were Nanna and Bridget. They were fine companions, but it would have been nice to have someone special to share the warmth with. On the far side of our little group, Simone and Antonio were also snuggled up together, talking in low whispers to each other, lost in their own little two-person world.

  Bridget yawned, and then stretched out in front of me, luxuriating in the delicious heat put out by the fire.

  “Our cabins all have fireplaces too,” Pepper said. I checked to see if she was speaking to us or her phone. This time, it was us.

  “I wrote a song about fire once,” Dylan said. he punctuated his words with a short strum on his guitar, which he had sitting on his lap. “I’ll play it for you later.”

  “Then I’ll play my bongos,” Brad said. “We’ll have a jam session.”

  “That’ll be s’cool,” Pepper said. “Nanna should hire you to play here when she finally opens!”

  Dylan slowly nodded his head in contemplation. “Yeah. Maybe. But I’m not sure if that’s really my thing, you know? Playing for tourists?”

  “Of course,” Pepper said. “You should focus on people who can appreciate real artists. A little bit of income would be nice though…”

  Dylan nodded her way again, seemingly in agreement until he opened his mouth again. “Yeah, but money isn’t everything. Better to be poor and free than rich and enslaved.”

  I squinted at him. Was he really comparing working a few hours a week for some income to slavery? Some people…

  “Dylan!”

  We all turned to look. At the door to the saloon was Horrible Nanna, staring at her potential future son-in-law.

  “Yes, Nanna?”

  “Come on and help! Don’t just sit there. Bradley, you too!” She planted her hands on her hips while the two young men scraped back their chairs and slowly stood. “Well? Don’t dilly dally.”

  Dylan and Brad hurried to the door.

  “What do you need—”

  Dylan didn’t get to finish his question.

  “Don’t jibber jabber, you lazybones. Come and carry the dinner supplies over from my cabin.”

  Horrible Nanna was out the door in a second, the two guys following after her.

  “Nanna’s got her cabin hooked up to the generator, and she’s got a big old refrigerator in there,” Pepper explained. “She must want them to carry everything out from it.”

  “Oh, good, I was beginning to worry about that,” my Nanna, Nice Nanna, said. “I’ve only got ration packs for three meals with me.”

  Pepper gave her a funny look. “Ration packs?”

  “Yes, like the army use on maneuvers.”

  “MREs?” Ian asked curiously.

  “That’s right. That’s what Stone called them. I brought them just in case. They were in my go bag anyway.”

  Pepper giggled. “You’re a very cool Nanna. My followers are going to love you.”

  “Will they now?”

  The door to the saloon swung back open, quickly followed by Brad and then Dylan entering, each of them loaded down with supplies. They were each carrying a large cooler, stacked on top of which were cases of drinks.

  “Put the coolers on the counter,” Abner ordered. “I’ll take out the steaks for the grill.”

  The two young men unloaded all of their supplies up near the bar.

  “Get me a refill, dear,” Nanna said, nudging me and handing over her empty whiskey glass.

  Mine was still half-full. Call me a wimp, but a glass of warm whiskey isn’t exactly my favorite. If I was going to drink, something cold and obnoxiously colored with umbrellas and bendy straws was more my style. Nanna was made of sterner stuff than me, though, and I carried her glass over to the bar to top it off.

  “What supplies did you get?” I asked them while Abner refilled Nanna’s glass.

  “Potato salad, corn, beers, steaks, and dogs. Bread rolls, too.”

  “I can’t wait.” I turned to our host as he slid Nanna’s glass back my way. “Are you the cook as well, Abner?”

  �
��I ain’t no cook, but I can handle a grill. Going to set it up out front in just two ticks. Nanna prepared the rest of it. She ain’t employed no proper staff yet. Soon, soon, she says.”

  While I carried my Nanna’s glass of whiskey back over, Abner went outside to fire up a grill and prepare to cook. Nanna’s cheeks had gone rosy red from either the heat of the fire or the heat of the whiskey, though I wasn’t sure which. At her feet, Bridget dozed happily in front of the fire.

  “Pepper! Sally!” came a bark from the door. Horrible Nanna was back.

  The two girls were both on their feet and moving in no time.

  “Push the tables together and lay out the silverware and napkins. Then wipe down the plates because they’re dusty. And move the lanterns so we can see what we’re going to eat. Okay?”

  “Yes, Nanna,” Pepper said meekly.

  “Do you want a hand?” I offered.

  “No,” Horrible Nanna answered on their behalf. “They are quite capable and could do with the exercise. The rest of you stay where you are. Sit. Pepper, when you’ve finished that, put the potato salad and the corn into the serving dishes and set them on the table. And make sure everything’s neat, I can’t abide messiness.”

  Horrible Nanna stood with arms folded, watching as the two girls began their assigned tasks. I wanted to get up and help Pepper and Sally, but I couldn’t while Horrible Nanna was watching.

  “Why don’t you come and sit down with us?” Simone asked our hostess.

  Horrible Nanna assented and took the seat where Pepper had been sitting. She stared into the flames ahead of her.

  “I wanted to ask you something,” Simone said.

  Horrible Nanna pulled her gaze away from the fire and gave her a suspicious look. “Yes?”

  “How much did you pay for this place?”

  The older lady immediately began shaking her head. “Don’t you dare.”

  Simone sat up straight. “Sorry?”

  “It’s not for sale. I made this place what it is. Well, me and Abner. And I’m not selling it. I don’t care how rich your daddy is.”

  “I wasn’t… I was just…” she stumbled.