Free Divas Las Vegas by Rob Rosen

unlatched the door and poked my head outside the
stall. And there, standing before me, was Justin, and he had
a receipt in his hand.
    "I was only gone for ten minutes," I said in astonishment.
    "Only takes one," he replied.
    "How much?" I asked.
    "Eight hundred and sixty-four dollars. Not bad for one
night's work. Are we still having just that one drink?"
    "Fuck, no, you're buying me a double," I ordered, and
marched on out of the stall, grabbing a twenty he was
holding in his hand for me.
    "Good night for gambling," he said as we sat down in
front of two machines.
    "Better than for loving, that's for sure." I added.
    "Isn't love always a gamble?" he quipped.
    "Shut up and play, Justin. I've had enough talking for
one evening."

     
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    THE NEXT MORNING, WE AWOKE BRIGHT AND EARLY TO THE
fresh scent of chlorine and a somewhat loud knocking on
our door.
    "Come back in an hour, please," Justin shouted from
his bed.
    But again there was a knocking.
    "In. An. Hour," he annunciated.
    And there it was again. This time I jumped out of bed
and poked my head out the door to see what the hubbub
was about. I was shocked to find Marvin standing there, an
enormous bouquet of roses in his hand, and a please forgive
me look on his adorable face. He started talking before I
could say anything.
    "Look, I know I was an asshole last night. I swear that's
not like me at all. I've had relatives killed in Israel and I get
kind of touchy when I'm around Arabs."
    "By touchy you mean punchy and kicky and slappy and
yelly, right?"
    "Something like that, yes. Please, please, please forgive me. If you give me another chance I'll do anything you ask.
Anything." He handed me the flowers, and then produced
a mischievous grin that I assumed was to suggest that
"anything" meant anything sexual. And I, of course, was
all for that.

    "Let him in," shouted Justin from his bed.
    "Please, do come in," I said, and ushered him into our
little fishbowl.
    "Wow, what is that smell?" he asked, waving his hand
in front of his face.
    We both pointed out the window.
    "Nice," he said, and plopped down on my bed. Damn,
he looked good sitting there. I was still hornier than hell
from the previous night's shenanigans, needless to say.
    "We forgive you," Justin said, groggily.
    "We do?" I asked, surprised that Justin was a.) answering
for the both of us and b.) actually forgiving him. That was
rare. Justin held grudges. Big ones. And the only reason he
ever forgave anyone was-
    "Yes, we do," he continued. "Under one circumstance.
Actually, make that two. The first one being: never wake us
up, and by us, I mean me, before ten o'clock."
    "Can do," he agreed, nodding his head and stroking my
hand. Hell, I had already forgiven him. You should've seen
the flower arrangement.
    "And number two," Justin said, "we need your help on
a little sche- er, project we're working on." Ah, in all the
excitement of a handsome gentleman caller at my door, I
had completely forgotten about our need for Marvin's
connections.
    "Me? You need my help? But what can I do for you two?"
he asked, looking to me for the answer.
    "Well, oddly enough, and not to seem manipulative or
calculating or anything, and you know I already like you
and all-"

    "Oh, for goodness sake, just ask him, damn it," Justin
interrupted.
    "Okay, fine, I saw this vase on Antiques Roadshow; it
belonged to my dead grandmother; I want it back for my
mother so she'll be happy; and the people at the show won't
help me find the woman who has that vase in her possession-oh, and she might be here in Vegas; and you work for
PBS; and-" I gulped for a breath and pointed to Marvin to
indicate that he, in fact, was the "and."
    "Ah, well, it is a small world, isn't it?" he said, nodding
his head.
    "Small and getting smaller," Justin offered. "So what'll
it be? Do we forgive you or not?"
    I sat there and waited, not wanting to pressure him, but
still praying that he'd help so that I could