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The flies buzzed around the multiple piles of various restaurant castoffs as the sun idled its way behind the mountains. The sky shown with brilliant examples of red, blues, and oranges, causing the neon-blinded tourists to look up briefly from rationalizing away their retirement funds.
A martyr of the streets dug through a pile of bottles, searching hopefully for the one he swore he had hid there. Reaching his hand in, he pulled it back quickly, cussing. He put the dirty finger into his mouth in the traditional "spit will kill the germs" idea that mothers lay claim to. He, of course, was not a mother, so infection was more likely given the state of his finger, saliva and the fact, unbeknownst to him, that a bum with hepatitis had used this pile as his urinal. A few drops of blood decorated the piece of glass that had demanded a toll for the bum’s intrusion into its world. He kicked at the pile in revenge and decided to give up the search. "Some asshole prob’ly got it, hope he fuckin’ chokes." He muttered as he turned away. It was early and the streets were full of people. It wouldn’t take too long to beg up enough for another bottle. Feeling irritated that his plans of passing out early were delayed, he began to trudge off to the Strip. A sound of glass resettling made him turn around, warily, but hopeful, that maybe, just maybe the bottle would reveal itself. He frowned when what he saw wasn’t his bottle, but a dirty and rag-dressed woman sitting crossed-legged on the pile. The broken necks of the bottles and random shards didn’t seem to bother her in the least. In fact she looked rather happy. "A loon, " he muttered in disgust and started to go again, but was stopped by something. In her lap was a bottle of cheap wine.
His eyes lit up hopefully as he saw her lift it to her lips and start to take a drink. She stopped and looked at him with a smile that made her look frail. "Would you like it? It’s not really my brand." She held the bottle out to him. Taking the bottle from her before she could change her mind, he decided that loons may be a pain, but at least this one seemed ok. He looked at her with one eye as he took a quick pull off of the bottle. The sour, but potent wine burned down his throat and he fought back the cough that always occupied the first swallow like a tag-along little brother. Annoying, but easily ignored. She didn’t look too old, though it was hard to tell, covered as she was in dirt and grime. She was wearing the standard uniform of the Vegas street people, though the clothes looked a bit heavy to being wearing in the desert. He shrugged. He wasn’t one to judge what a loon decided to wear and as long as she shared her booze, she could dress like a nun for all he cared. He reluctantly passed the bottle back, not really wanting to, but if she was walking on the edge, he didn’t want to make her mad. He knew of some crazies that carried blades and if they thought you were being mean, even just the hint of it, they went berzerk and gave you a nasty cut. She smiled again and shook her head.
"No, you can have it, really. Like I said, its not my brand." She shifted a bit and looked at him through her hair. "Well, lady, that’s fine with me, and thanks, you saved me the trouble of hitting the streets tonight. And it is just too damn hot to be begging ."
She nodded her understanding. "I know, one just doesn’t feel like moving too much in the summer." she replied softly. "I know I don’t, and the sun takes so long to go down."
"Don’t it just. I always mean to leave in the summer, but you know how it is." He said, with a laugh.
He decided that she seemed to be ok, even if she was sitting on broken glass, but hey, who was he to judge? Besides, it had been awhile since he had gotten laid and she didn’t look strong enough to put up too much of a fight. He smiled to himself. Tonight was going ok, really ok. He had drink and a "date", not too bad. He moved to find a piece of wall to lean against and took another gulp of the bottle. "So, you been here long?" he asked trying to look friendly. She looked at him, "Awhile, but not too long."
"Yea, I know, time just don’t mean much to us, do it?" he said, grinning as he lifted the bottle to his lips again. "No, it doesn’t." she returned, laughing.
"You sure you don’t want any? Help cure what ills ya, as my dad would say." he held the bottle out once more. She looked at him and then the bottle and then looked around the vacant lot intently. "Oh come on, no one gonna think bad if they see you take a drink." he pushed it at her. "Yep, get her a little drunk and maybe I won’t have to worry about no fight later." he thought to himself. "Besides, I do believe we are alone." he grinned at her showing his decaying teeth in all their glory.
"You know, you’re right, no one else is here and one drink won’t kill me." she said laughing and reached for the bottle. She leaned over and he shook the bottle lightly at her for her to take it. She smiled and put her fingers on the neck of bottle and then quickly, instead of the bottle, grabbed his wrist and pulled hard. He had no time to do more then grunt in surprise at her strength, before she had a hand clamped over his mouth, pulling his head back. Thoughts of surprise, anger and fear tumbled about in his mind as he heard her whisper in his ear as her teeth grazed his neck "As I said, the wine isn’t really my brand." He gasped as he felt the sharp pain start at his neck and work its way through his body. He was barely able to form the thoughts of "oh my god, she’s drinking my blood!" before he passed out.
Emily stood up over the bum. and wiped her mouth off on the back of her sleeve. He was still breathing, but shallowly. He might make it. He had even odds of it. She smiled for what she took to be a little joke on her part and wandered into the night to see if she could sneak into the Mirage and see the white tigers. It was an on-going game with her and the Mirage security. She would sneak in, they would kick her out. It drove them nuts trying to figure out how she did it and that made her feel good. Singing a bit of "What’s up Pussycat" in her best Tom Jones imitation, she wandered onto the Strip.
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