Vegas Moon

19.

I’ve read about these dolls. They not only look real, they’ve been manufactured to feel real. Supposedly, their exterior is virtually identical to the texture of real flesh.

And speaking of flesh, the big draw for Fast Eddie Pickles and every other man who buys these dolls, is the sex. They have three entry areas, mouth, anal and vaginal. But unlike real women, when penetrated, these openings supposedly create a powerful suction. I’m not impressed. I bet a determined, properly-motivated woman could give these dolls a run for their money.

Eddie puts his ear to Surrey’s mouth again. Then says, “Surrey wants to apologize for being late. She’s been crying, and didn’t want her face to look puffy.”

“Her face looks great!” Lucky says, which causes all of us to look at Eddie’s doll. The realism is truly astonishing. Even her dead-eyed vacant stare and lack of general expression reminds me of any number of women I’ve dated who would’ve preferred to be with someone else at the time.

Eddie leans over and puts his ear to Surrey’s mouth, and then nods.

“What did she say?” Lucky says, shamelessly.

“She wants me to show you our pictures.”

“What pictures?” Gwen says.

“We just got back from Costa Rica.”

“No shit!” Lucky says.

“We had a great time, even though Surrey’s parents refused to join us.”

Gwen and I exchange a look, but Lucky keeps plowing ahead.

“Why not? Too busy? Passport problems?”

“They object to us living together out of wedlock. They’re very strict.”

Eddie reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a stack of five by seven prints. Hands them to me and says, “Pass ’em ’round.”

There, depicted in full color, are photos of him and Surrey in Costa Rica. The first one shows Eddie and Surrey standing in front of a cab after arriving there. The second shows Eddie winking at the camera. I notice one of his hands is stuffed inside Surrey’s shirt. Class act, this guy. In the background, the clearly-rattled Costa Rican cab driver and Tom can be seen arguing. The third photo shows Eddie and Surrey trying to check into the hotel. The fourth shows Eddie attempting to bribe the police at the hotel. The fifth shows Surrey in a bikini, laying out by the pool. In the background, people are pointing and laughing. The sixth shows a crowd gathered around Surrey, and Tom working hard to keep them at bay. I skip through the stack, but have to stop when I come upon the shots of Eddie and Surrey at the zip line course. Surrey, in a crash helmet, being strapped into a harness. Her, flying through the air. Her, landing at the second platform, being “caught” by men with serious looks of concern on their faces. So severe are their facial expressions I can only assume Fast Eddie failed to let them know a life-sized doll was heading their way. They probably thought she’d suffered a heart attack.

I pass the photos to Lucky. He glances at them and makes what under normal circumstances would be appropriate comments, such as “Oh, I like this one!” and, “Wow, nice outfit, Surrey!”

When he gets to the end, he passes them to Gwen, who bites her lip to keep from laughing. I dare not look at her for fear we’ll both lose it.

Eddie leans over to Surrey again. Then speaks to me.

“Surrey thinks you’re cute.”

Gwen looks up from her stack of photos and smiles.

Lucky says, “The great thing about Vegas Moon is it’s entirely sports oriented. People can go there and bet the odds on any game being played that day, anywhere in the world. We’ll have a hundred and fifty screens, all live action. Two thousand state-of-the-art reclining chairs, with betting machines built into the arms and a tray on the left for food and drinks. And a button they press to see a high-def virtual screen right in the middle of the air in front of them!”

While Lucky drones on, I feel Gwen’s foot in my crotch. She’s removed her boot somehow, and is rubbing me with her toes. I smile at her across the table. She smiles back. I put my hand on the top of her foot and lightly caress it with my fingertips. Her foot is cool to the touch.

Too cool.

I suddenly realize I’m playing with Surrey’s foot.

I lift the tablecloth and see that Eddie has his left foot under Surrey’s leg and is lifting and moving her foot against me. He sees me watching this take place, and suddenly jumps to his feet and yells, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He’s yelling at Surrey, not me.

Gwen and Lucky look at me, as if I’ve done something wrong.

I shrug.

“You tramp!” Eddie yells. “You fucking whore!”

He slaps her hard across the face.

“Please,” Lucky says. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. It was just a misunderstanding, right Surrey?”

Gwen looks at her husband and says, “Are you really this desperate?”

“That’s it!” Eddie says. “I’m outta here!” He looks at Surrey. “Find your own way home, bitch!”

He stomps off, leaving Surrey with us at the table.

We’re speechless.

As if proving Lucky right about the shitty service, a waiter appears for the first time since we were seated.

“Go fuck yourself!” Lucky says.

“Yes sir!” the waiter says with enthusiasm. He spins around and fairly sprints to the kitchen.

“You think he’s going to?” Gwen says.

Lucky looks at me and says, “Well, I hope you’re happy. Ten million dollars just walked out the door.”

“You don’t want to do business with that guy.”

“Why not?

“Guys and Dolls? The media would have a field day.”

Gwen laughs. “Pickles and Peters in business together. You get it? Pickled Peters?”

“Shut up, Gwen,” Lucky says.

We all shut up. But our heads turn toward Surrey, as if caught in the pull of a tractor beam.

Moments later, Tom scurries over to the table. He appears to have tears in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” he says, with great sincerity.

“Quite all right,” Lucky says.

“I was talking to Surrey.”

Gwen arches her eyebrow and says, “This gets weirder and weirder.”

“I’ll just escort her out of here,” Tom says.

Gwen says, “He struck her!”

“He’s upset,” Tom says.

“I don’t care! He can’t just go around hitting her like that. It’s still abuse.”

Tom lowers his head and sighs.

“He’s done worse.”

He bites his bottom lip a moment, then positions himself behind Surrey, places his palms below her elbows, and carefully begins hoisting her to a standing position.

“This is the worst part,” he says.

“Lifting her?” I say.

Tom shakes his head. “The constant fighting,” he says. “They’re always at each other’s throats.”

“Tom,” I say.

“Sir?”

“What does he pay you?”

“Sir?”

“Eddie. How much does he pay you for this bullshit?”

“He doesn’t pay me anything.”

“Excuse me?”

“Surrey pays me.”

Gwen laughs.

I say, “Of course she does.”