"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.
"I think it's a little rude how young you take me for," Luke huffed. She didn't answer. She stared at the birthdate and nodded.
"Fine then."
Her shorts heels hit the floor as she went to the machine that deposited poker chips. Luke didn't get women at all. He believed in feminism, of course, but some females were just so mean. Boys had their moments too, but girls sent him into a panic. Luke blamed the idea on how his mother treated him.
If Luke weren't actually twenty-one, he would've cowered away and cried. When he was younger, he did that sort of thing a lot. His shyness used to get the best of him. Nowadays, a mean old receptionist was not going to stand in the way of his dreams.
Luke collected his chips in his arms. There was a good amount, enough for three games if he played well.
His pupils scanned the room for the least intimidating game. All of the green tables were surrounded by big men smoking cigars. He decided to sit at one close to an exit where a couple of young guys were playing. The table was at the back of the room, directly underneath a blue neon sign.
The bass line returned. If he'd made it this far, he could complete his plan.
In the back of Luke's mind, his mother was warning him of the dangers of gambling. His luck would have to be high, and his skills would have to be higher. And at the same time, it was the only way to gain money quickly.
Luke sat down with a glance at the other players. The dealer tossed his cards at him.
"Thanks," Luke mumbled. He held them tightly in his hands. The game began fast paced. Three of the six players folded, but Luke was confident about his three-of-a-kind hand.
When he raised his head, he caught sight of the dealer. Clad in a navy blue shirt that hugged his skin and a golden crucifix that rested between his exposed chest hairs, sat a man Luke didn't expect to see.
It was that creep from the gas station.
"Ashton?!" Luke furrowed his eyebrows. Ashton laughed.
"Some poker face you have," Ashton winked. The fourth guy folded. It appeared as though all of the other men did not want to play against Ashton. Was Ashton some kind of poker master?
"You don't know," Luke huffed and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Ashton smirked.
"I think I'll raise you. All the way," The man pushed all of his poker chips into the center of the table. Luke was offended. If that loser could bet all of his money, then so could Luke.
"Fine. So will I!" Luke huffed. He lost his rationale when Ashton challenged him. Ashton couldn't stop laughing.
"There," The creepy man placed his hand on the table. Luke's heart sank. It was a full house. A full house that beat his pathetic three matching cards.
"Y-Y-You tricked me!" Luke slammed his hands on the table.
"Oh, Luke, that's how this game works!" Ashton laughed and collected his chips. Without offering a second game, Ashton carried them to the reception desk.
Luke was flushed and angered. He pushed his chair back and stormed over to Ashton in front of the annoying receptionist.
"Lynn, I'm here to get my money," Ashton winked at the lady. She nodded feverishly and quickly grabbed his money. Ashton was so calm and collected, as if he didn't just win a thousand dollars. It made Luke seethe.
"Here, Ash. Anything for you," Lynn nearly whimpered. Luke growled quietly. He was quickly beginning to hate both of them. Ashton looked at Luke. There was a gleam of pure mischief in his eyes. He counted every dollar slowly just to piss the musician off.
"Something wrong, curly?" Ashton shoved the money in his pocket.
"Yes, you jerk! You tricked me into betting everything. A-And I need that money. Please, let me win it back!" Luke stomped his feet like a child. His lips plumped in a pout, and he gave Ashton a pleading look.
"Hon, that's not how poker works," Ashton patted Luke's shoulder. Luke grasped his hand and threw it down.
"No! Let me have my money back!" Luke clenched his fists.
"You. Are. A. Child," Ashton huffed and began walking away from Luke. Luke's heart kept breaking. What a con-artist.
"There has to be some way you'll let me play you again," Luke pleaded.
"Even if I did play you again, I would still win. I'm the luckiest guy alive," Ashton led Luke out of the casino. Luke rolled his eyes. He grabbed at Ashton's wrist. The rings on his fingers left marks against Ashton's skin.
"What can I do, Ashton?" Their eyes locked when Luke said it. Ashton wet his chapping lips and searched across Luke's face for what looked to be sincerity.
"Well—" Ashton hummed. His eyes trailed down, gazing at Luke's shirt glowing from his body and his pants that cupped his legs. Luke's curls were so long that they connected with his eyelashes.
"Oh..." Luke looked away. He wished to run and hide. He was tired of men asking for that. Though comfortable with his sexuality, he didn't want to be everyone's toy.
"Problem?" Ashton furrowed his brows and crossed his arms.
"It's n-nothing. I could if you really wanted me to or...you know," Luke shrugged. His shy side began bubbling up from the dark hole where he had left it.
"Great, Luke. I'd love to hear your music. I can't believe I have to pay you a thousand bucks to do so, but—you always seem creeped out by me," Ashton laughed and shrugged. Luke furrowed his brows in confusion. Ashton didn't want his body?
"I thought you meant—" Luke choked and scratched his neck.
"Thought I meant what? I just want you to earn the money back. Let this teach you that gambling is wrong. Every penny you receive in life should come from hard work," Ashton's warm voice was wise and kind. Relief puddled through Luke's mind and body. He wouldn't have to be someone's prostitute today. The strange man turned from Luke and began walking towards the parking lot.
"Why do you care, Ashton? You don't really know me," Luke followed behind him. The sky was now purple and red. Dusk had snuck upon them.
"Let's just say—I know musicians," he said. He handed Luke a business card with his name and address. When Luke read over it, he gasped.
In a small, silver font the card read:
"Irwin Records."