Read What Happens In Vegas... Doesn't Always Stay There Online
Authors: Terry Towers
"I'm serious. We make an honest living and there's nothing wrong with being a server. Listen honey, just because you're a server now, doesn't mean you'll be a server forever."
Katrina shook her head. "You know, just last week I had to serve someone from my high school for a meeting breakfast banquet. She's a lawyer. She looked at me with sympathy, like I was the most
pathetic thing on earth, and told me maybe one day I'd catch a break. Then she proceeded to gush
about how wonderful her fiancé was while flashing me the gigantic rock on her finger. And she used to be a
friend
of mine in high school. Now I’d imagine that type of condescending attitude from someone I never got along with, but a friend..."
"I'm sure people like that are few and far between. Everyone is out of work these days. We're lucky we even have a job that pays the bills."
"
Barely
pays the bills you mean. I swear it feels like I'm begging for an extension on the rent more than I pay on time. I'm just sick of this shit, you know."
Farrah shrugged, as they approached Katrina's ancient yellow VW. "It'll get better. Gotta have some faith, honey."
"Yeah." Opening the car door, Katrina slid in, reached across the seat and unlocked the passenger side for Farrah.
Once they were both in, seat belts secure, Katrina thrust the key into the ignition.
Click.
Frowning and getting a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, Katrina tried the ignition a second time.
Click.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!” She slammed her hands on the steering wheel in utter frustration.
*****
Damon stood and extended his hand to his long-time friend and doctor, Gary Van Buren. "Thanks for coming by the office with the results Gary, I appreciate it. I've been swamped with work." He motioned to a chair across from his desk. "Please, have a seat."
"No worries Damon." Sitting, Dr. Van Buren pulled a file from his briefcase and using the case as a mobile desk on his lap, opened the file.
"So... Tell me. What's the results?"
"Well, just let me say that the surgery wasn't for nothing..."
Damon let out a low huff of air as he sat back in his chair. His right side suddenly began to ache, where the incision had been made and the lower lobectomy had been performed. While the incision
had healed, he still felt some discomfort.
"So, I still have it, I assume."
"Yes. We didn't get it all. I'm sorry Damon. We can still see fine specks of it in the lymph nodes and chest."
Damon pushed his chair back, stood and made his way over to the bar he had set up in the corner of his office. Opening a bottle of scotch, he poured a couple of ounces into a shot glass and chugged it down. The liquid burned as it slid over his tongue and down his throat. He motioned towards the bottle.
"Care to join me for a drink, Doc?"
"No thanks, Damon." Gary paused as if deciding on something. "You shouldn't be drinking, Damon."
"Doctor, I've never smoked a cigarette. Never did any type of illegal drug. Eat healthy and work out five times a week and still got lung cancer at the age of twenty-nine. Pretty fucked up if you ask me. I think having a couple shots of scotch is the least of my problems at this point. Don't you?" Damon poured another drink and drank it down as he waited for the verdict. "So what do we do from here?"
Gary looked down at his files, studied them a moment and then met Damon's gaze. "I suggest we start chemotherapy in a couple of weeks, followed by radiation. And then go from there."
"What are my chances?"
Gary shifted uneasily in his chair.
"That bad, huh?"
"You see when we went in and did the lobectomy we thought it was a different type of tumour. One less aggressive. We didn't realize it was small stem cell..."
"How long Gary? If this treatment you have planned doesn't work. How long?" Damon made his way back to his chair. His mind was numb. He'd been bracing himself for this news, but hearing it was still nonetheless hard. Twenty-nine years old and he was facing death, possibly in the near future.
"Well, without treatment maybe a few months."
Fuck!
Damon thrust a hand through his dark hair as he sat back into his tall-back black leather desk chair. "And with the treatment?"
"With the treatment, we may be able to cure you. Maybe not. It's a crapshoot to be honest, but it's a hell of a lot worse if you don't do the treatment."
"And with the treatment. What's the odds?"
Gary grimaced. "About twenty percent, Damon. You're young and in good health so you have a
fighting shot. I'm quite sure that it'll give you a solid year if not cured, but a year is much better than a few months."
One year to live. It seemed surreal to him, like he was caught in some nightmare and he was going to wake up at any minute and it would be over and he could get back to his life. Though when he thought more deeply about it the truth of the matter was that his life was rather one-dimensional. It consisted of work, building an empire that was worth billions and nothing else.
No wife. No children. No family. Not even any close personal relationships. He didn't even have
someone to leave his empire to when he passed. If he let himself ponder on those things he'd be too depressed to even function. But he pushed those things to the back of his mind.
Damon's eyes fell on a letter from his former high school. The letter was an invitation to his ten-year high school reunion. A soft smile touched his lips as he thought back to his high school days. Life was so much simpler back then. Hell, if he knew back then what he knew now maybe he'd have changed
several decisions he'd made in his younger years.
"Damon?"
Damon lifted his eyes and met Gary's gaze. "All right. Set it up."
Gary made a couple of notes in his files and thrust it back into his briefcase. Gary's brow furrowed as he noticed the letter for the reunion. "Your reunion coming up I see."
"Yeah. Not going though."
"When is it?"
"This weekend, in Bangor. I have a meeting Friday afternoon in LA and to be honest I'm not sure I'd be up to seeing people from my past again."
Gary leaned forward and caught Damon's gaze. "If you'd like my opinion, I think you should go, Damon. I'm confident we can beat this, despite the odds, but I would suggest you start reconnecting with people and start
living
your life instead of continuing to consume yourself with work. Speaking as your friend and not your doctor - fuck work." He motioned to the lavish office. "You can't take it with you, Damon."
"Work is the only thing keeping me sane, Gary."
"I'm just saying. Don't waste the time you have left, just in case."
"I'll think about it."
*****
"I really can't afford this, Farrah."
"I'll pay."
"You can't afford it either." Katrina examined the tight black crushed velvet dress from all angles in the full-length mirror of the clothing boutique. The sweetheart neckline dipped low into her ample cleavage and the tight skirt fell to mid-thigh. It was simple, but had an air of elegance to it.
Farrah came up behind Katrina and caught her friend's eyes in the mirror.
"Look how it brings out your blue eyes. Add some smoky cat eye make-up and a pair of sexy stilettos and you'll be a knockout. It won't matter what you do for a living, or you're so broke that you can't afford to fix your car. You'll have every man there drooling and every woman green with envy."
"Exactly. I can't even afford to fix my car Farrah, so does it make sense to you for me to spend a hundred bucks on a dress?"
"Like I said, I'll lend you the money for the dress and the car repairs. I haven't maxed my Visa yet."
"But Damon isn't even going to be there anyhow and he's the only person I'd be even remotely interested in seeing."
"How do you know he's not going to be there?"
Katrina flushed, a guilty expression crossing her face. "I kinda snuck into Winnie's office and checked the reservation list."
"Well, he can always confirm at the last minute. Besides, Winnie already approved you the night off, so you have to go or she'll be pissed that you made her change the schedule for nothing. You know what kind of tight-ass she is about changing the schedule."
"Yeah... I suppose..."
A wide smile emerged on Farrah's lips; she knew she had won. "Then it's settled."
"All right. You win. If you'll stop harassing me about it I'll buy the dress and go. But I'm not promising I'll stay for the whole thing. More of a drop in for the dance, see what's going on, and leave. No dinner.
Just the dance."
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