Preston Allen - Las Vegas Noir

The handsome man was sitting beside Sarah, and the two were obviously flirting with one another. The chips in front of Madison began to dwindle. She was paying more attention to the action between her cousin and the bodybuilder than to the poker game. Madison had just asked the bored-looking Asian dealer to cash her out when Sarah stood up and motioned to her.

“Let’s go to the nightclub downstairs. Bradley’s going to join us.” Bradley was looking at the two women, but his eyes passed right over Madison. He nodded at Sarah as if to signal he’d be joining her shortly.

The club was packed. Madison and Sarah had to wait in line for ten minutes. Bradley caught up with them, but the only place the trio could find to sit was on one of the large divans on the sprawling outdoor veranda. Bradley seemed to know everyone. Martini after martini began to appear. Madison quickly got drunk enough to attempt small talk with Bradley. Her cousin seemed to have lost interest in the bodybuilder once he’d introduced her to a mangy-looking rock-star wannabe.

People were thronging around the patio. Soon total strangers were sitting or reclining on the divan — laughing, drinking, kissing, and fondling their partners. Madison was pressed against Bradley. The close contact with him again sent a heated sensation throughout her body.

When Madison stood up to go use the powder room, she was unsteady on her feet. She was vaguely aware of Sarah shaking her arm and pointing to Bradley. The next thing she knew she was home — and Bradley was with her. Sarah had cajoled him into driving Madison to the condo.

Madison wasn’t simply home with Bradley. She was in bed with him. His breath reeked of vodka and vermouth. His kisses were sloppy, and he was groping at her thighs. Madison didn’t remember taking off her clothes, but she was naked. Bradley was wearing only his shirt. She could feel his bare muscled thighs against hers.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” The ceiling seemed to spin. “Brad, I think I’m going to be sick.” Madison struggled to move out from underneath him.

“No you’re not.” His words were slurred.

He was lying completely on top of her, his weight pressing her down, down, down.

Brad managed a drunken laugh. “Shit, girl, you really are flatter’n a pancake.”

Madison felt bile rising in her throat, but she managed to suppress the gag reflex. Bradley was now fully between her spread legs, and he began to position himself to move inside of her. Madison had read enough romance novels in her years of isolation to expect that her first time with a man would be somewhat painful. (Later, she would reflect that romance novels, like everything else in her life, were filled with nothing but lies and bullshit.)

When Bradley forced himself into Madison, she cried out. She was a fairly strong woman, and she pushed at his shoulders and thrust with her legs. She almost succeeded in bucking him off. Bradley stopped the invasion of her body for a moment. “Oh shit. You a virgin?”

Madison began sobbing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have sex with him. But this was supposed to be her moment. Her first time with a man was supposed to be seductive, romantic. The man who deflowered her was supposed to be gentle, compassionate, and bring her slowly from orgasm to orgasm. Not treat her like some blow-up doll.

Madison managed to say yes to the man looming over her. A man whose face she could barely see in the darkness of her bedroom. A man who said to her with obvious annoyance in his voice, “Oh well. Let’s just get this over with then.” And he did. And that was it.

At the gym, Bradley didn’t avoid Madison; he simply ignored her. It was as though they’d never met. Madison didn’t tell Sarah what happened that night. She never even told her shrink, Dr. Golob. Sex was one topic Madison Feldon avoided at all costs. She never picked up another romance novel at the grocery store, either. Now here she was being invited to sit intimately and alone with a man.

“Hey, are you all right?”

Madison detected a note of genuine concern in Garvey’s voice. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She motioned with her hand. “Go ahead, have a seat.”

“I don’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to tell you that I know I’m in good hands.” His smile was simple and genuine.

“Thanks. I appreciate clients who appreciate me.” She smiled back.

A cement truck lumbered by on the congested street, bits of rock bouncing out of the revolving drum and skittering along the sidewalk near the coffeehouse. Madison winced and let out a harsh, irritated breath. She could feel the minute twitch begin in her left eye. Her uninvited guest didn’t seem to notice her distress. He kept rambling on about the importance of fitness and nutrition.

Garvey opened the brown bag and offered to share the coffee cake with Madison. Now her eye and her lip were twitching. She looked at everything but the tempting pastry and the man sitting across from her.

“I hardly think that’s nutritious. It’s all empty calories and major carbs, you know.” Madison’s mouth flooded. She clenched her hands under the table.

Garvey laughed. He had a good laugh. It was light and easy, almost infectious. She found herself responding to the sound. Madison Feldon giggled.

Two weeks later, Madison was at the gym with Garvey. He was a dependable client. He hadn’t missed a single one of his tri-weekly sessions. He was eager to please and quick to pick up on the nuances of working with weights. They were both sweating when the hour ended, and Madison hurried to the showers in the women’s locker room.

No one at the club had ever seen her naked except for Bradley, but then he didn’t really see her That Night, and he certainly never saw her again. Wrapped in a big towel, Madison kept her eyes averted from the potpourri of nude bodies around her. Fat, lean, wrinkled, smooth, young, old; from the corner of her eye she glanced at them, these naked females who moved unself-consciously through the rituals of blow drying their hair, moisturizing their bodies, and chatting on cell phones.

Garvey was waiting for her outside the club entrance. He asked if she’d like to meet him at Starbucks. Madison shrugged. “Only if you promise not to buy any junk food.” Again, that easy laugh of his.

Over coffee, Madison shared her thoughts about the growth and construction in Green Valley.

“These developers are eco-rapists. They don’t care about the environment. They don’t design or plan with any thought to water conservation or traffic flow.” Madison scowled. “When I first moved to Green Valley, you could hear coyotes yipping and howling at night. Now all I hear is the beep-beep of backhoes and loaders.” She looked at Garvey. “Where do you think the coyotes have gone?”

“I don’t know, Maddy.”

Madison flinched at his use of the nickname. Only the Feldon’s housekeeper had ever called her that. Despite having been designated as the enforcer of Madison’s diet, Mrs. An-son was kindhearted. On occasion she would treat the ever-hungry young girl to something special: a frozen Popsicle or a sorbet. They had to be careful since Louie Feldon demanded that his daughter weigh herself in his presence every morning. Her whole body twitched at the memory of the invective Louie would rain down on her naked body if the digital scale reflected so much as a gain of one ounce.

Garvey was shredding a paper napkin into a little pile in front of him. “I think you’d be surprised at what goes into the building process. Everything follows a plan. Water, sewer, gas pipes have to be laid down. Houses have to be wired for phone and electricity.”

He pushed the torn bits of paper onto his palm, then dumped them in the unused ashtray. “I don’t know if I mentioned it but I’m taking classes at night in architecture at UNLV.”