Broken Glass (5 page)

I shook my head, my lack of self-confidence showing through the cracks of insecurity. I thought of how I’d broken down in tears just ten minutes before while having sex—I was as good as a novice. I wouldn’t even be able to say I now belonged to the Mile High Club. “It’s all about big round butts these days and curves and I’m just a—”

“You’re a true beauty, my precious Janie. Did Audrey Hepburn have a big round ass and huge great tits?”

An amused smile at the thought of my icon, Audrey, with a sexy big butt, lifted the corners of my mouth. “No.”

“Well, then.”

A knock at our cabin door took us by surprise. “We’re getting ready for landing, Sir, Ma’am, please buckle up.”

“Thank you,” Daniel called out. “Janie, we’ll continue this conversation at the hotel, after you’ve found your brother.”

“By the way, my brother’s . . . different,” I wavered, not finding the right adjective for Will.

“Like how?”

“You’ll see. He’s kind of unpredictable. Whatever he says or does, though, please go easy on him.”

“Alright.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

3

I
HAD ONLY BEEN to Vegas once before, when I was really little. My parents took me to a
Grateful
Dead
concert; a reunion of the band, at the height of summer, sometime in August. If you could imagine the hottest day you’d experienced in your life and then put a hairdryer to your face, that’s how stifling it was. They were giving out Gatorade for free, which impressed me, and everyone was going around with plant sprayers full of water, to spray on their bodies and faces. There was a hose on, full-time, to cool people down. It was all happening in the open air during the day. I guessed it went on until the evening, too, but I was in bed by that point. The main thing I remember is people laughing their heads off. All day long. Wild, jaw-aching laughing, giant smiles splitting their faces in two. Years later, I realized that people were high on ecstasy or acid, or whatever. My mom admitted to me that Dad had taken magic mushrooms.

Daniel dropped me off at my hotel and left to go to his own. He had told me he owned a string of them, but one in particular he favored, as close as you could get to a “boutique” hotel in this crazy town. I was relieved—I didn’t feel comfortable enough to share my family with him. Not yet, anyway.

It wasn’t roasting hot here in Vegas, now, and dad wasn’t running around grinning and high on hallucinogenics, but I was still dealing with a man who was less than responsible. I spotted him from afar, wandering around the huge swimming pool, cellphone in hand, a forlorn little-boy-lost look on his handsome, chiseled face. My dad had the look of a 1950’s movie star—vintage handsome.

My father’s lustrous brown eyes searched the surrounding area keenly, as if Will would be by the pool, picking up chicks in bikinis, instead of out on a mission to test his skills as a gambler. So far, Will had shown no interest whatsoever in girls. It was as if he’d been mentally arrested at the age of eleven, although physically everything was more than normal. In fact, Will was downright gorgeous to look at. It had gotten us into some interesting situations in the past; girls trying to hit on him, clueless as he was. Once he’d invited a very pretty nineteen-year-old to “stay over.” His idea of staying over was full pajamas, a midnight snack, and a horror movie. When she tried to kiss him he’d said “gross”, wrinkling his nose and wiping her kiss off his face.

“Dad,” I called out, racing up to my father and encircling him in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you!”

“Honey, thank God you’re here. I’ve been worried sick about Will wandering around Vegas, losing money in some . . . some crazy gambling hall.” It was now five o’clock, he’d been missing for twelve hours. Dad’s restless eyes flickered over my shoulder. A waiter walked by with a tray full of drinks.

“Have you called the police?” I asked.

“Yeah, but they pretty much laughed. A twenty-one-year-old guy loose in Vegas? They have bigger issues to deal with, like murder and rape.”

“Did you explain?”

“I reported him missing and they filed the details into their computerized local system—fat lot of good it’ll do—they made it clear that being a voluntary missing person is
not a crime
and any adult person can simply walk away from his or her family.”

“Yes, but, Will isn’t—”

“They told me because it’s not a crime, the law enforcement is limited on how they handle these type of investigations. If it were a result of a criminal act, they said, they’d take it more seriously. I told them it was endangerment to Will himself, and
maybe to others
, and that’s what got their attention, when they finally put him in their database.” Dad’s words rushed out in a breathy torrent. Will had been living peacefully at home, and in a twenty-mile radius, not venturing anywhere risky except for the fantasylands of his video games. This phenomenon of Will going MIA was new to us both.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon.” As I said this, my eyes focused on a scene in the distance at the far end of the pool, near a cluster of palm trees. A guy was lying face down on a sun lounger, surrounded by three bikini-clad blondes, apparently fawning over his every movement. I knew that body. Or did I? I shook the idea out of my head. The man was being massaged with sun cream; deft fingers traveled seductively down the backs of his firm legs.

“What is it?” Dad said.

“Dad, I’m going to the other end of the pool area to check something out, won’t be a minute. Meet you by the bar?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “I could use some water.”

“Get me a Coke, I’ll be right back.”

I wandered over, in my flip flops, wondering if the vision I was seeing was my overactive imagination playing tricks on me. The way you do when you have something at the forefront of your mind . . . you see things when they aren’t really there. Because, unless someone had spiked my food earlier, I was seeing triple. I rubbed my eyes to make sure.

I stood there, silently, feeling like a fool, as if everything I had been flipping over in my mind about this person in the last twenty-four hours was completely false.

The woman who was massaging his legs was no more than nineteen. Purring over him like a kitten with a bowlful of cream. Another was feeding him a cocktail—a Tequila Sunrise maybe, because the red and gold of the drink swirled about the glass in colorful waves, as he sipped through a long straw. She fingered his dark hair—her scarlet nails keen as little knives; a lock was hanging over his brow.

“Loving this, girls . . . loving it,” he murmured, while the third—one with a very sexy round behind—began to massage his nut-brown back.

The younger girl looked up at me, her heavy blond mane hanging over one eye. “Can I help you?” she asked suspiciously, even possessively—there was no room for a petite brunette in their ménage quartet. I wasn’t sure, could she? Should I say something?

But I didn’t speak, as I knew he’d recognize my voice, so I just shook my head. Then walked away.

Dumbstruck, I ambled back to Dad and sat with him by the bar.

He handed me my drink. “Honey, what’s up?”

“Will,” I said, “will be just fine.”

Dad glugged down a whole glass of water and let out a satisfied gasp. “I wish I could believe that.”

“Trust me, dad, he’s fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Let’s just say I have evidence.”

“You
saw
him?”

“Yeah,” I said, in a dazed monotone, “I saw him.”

“And? Where the fuck
is
he?” My parents were never the kind to stop swearing in front of the children—my dad was like a friend, not a typical father.

“He’s occupied with a bunch of . . . ” –I wanted to say ‘girls’ but they were too worldly for that—“females,” I spluttered. “I didn’t want to break the spell for him—the older sister clucking around like a mother hen, you know.”

“Whores?”

“Ssh, keep your voice down. I don’t think so . . . just opportunists. I don’t want to disturb him. He’s ‘scored,’ you know, and this could be his first time—I mean this
must
be his first, surely? I don’t want to ruin his Vegas experience.”

I assumed Will had won money, but then again, he was damn good looking. Even so . . .
three
?

I expected my father to feel proud of his son initiating his manhood, but he brought up a very good point: “You think he knows about safe sex, Janie? I doubt it. And what if they’re all taking copious amounts of drugs?”

“Good point,” I said, feeling like the child now. I couldn’t believe my dad was so on the ball, for once. “You’re right.”

He glared at me. “So, where is he?”

“At the other end of the pool. He didn’t look like he was going anywhere fast, though. I’ll try calling again.” I took my cell out from my shorts’ pocket. Will’s phone jumped to voicemail, just as I expected. I didn’t bother leaving a message, I’d already left so many already. “Okay, Dad, I’ll go over and . . .” –I didn’t know what my plan was, but Dad was agitated, and I thought it best I spoke to Will alone—“you stay here.”

I walked over to Will and his harem of girls, mulling over how stunned Dad and I were by Will’s new independence manifesting in a way neither of us had ever anticipated. My brother was sitting up now, and our gazes instantly met. A slow smile crept on his face—a face which looked older than I remembered, and less boyish. I hadn’t seen him in more than six months.

“Hey,” I said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “See you’ve set yourself up nicely. Dad and I’ve been calling you non stop.”

He squinted at me, the sun in his eyes. “You didn’t get my message?”

“Noooo, Will, we’ve been checking our cells every five minutes!” I tried to stay calm.

“Candy, Stacey, Jill, this is my sister, Janie.”

“Hi,” I said, trying not to be unfriendly. It wasn’t their fault.

Will spoke with a grin, like a giant sticker, slapped across his handsome face. My glare did not deter his happiness for one second. “I left a message early this morning with the concierge, there should be a note . . . a note . . . in Dad’s inbox,” he said, beaming.

“What happened to your cellphone?”

“I dove in the pool with it by mistake. I have it, but it’s not so happy, not so happy. I won a lot of money, Janie, at Blackjack. Won a lot of money.”

The last thing Will needed was to be boasting in public about all the money he’d made.

“Will, can I just . . . Dad’s worried sick . . . can we just talk in private for a second?”

He lifted his hands in a gesture, as if to say,
See how annoying my sister is
? “Sure,” he said. He reluctantly moved away from scarlet fingernailed Jill, whose talons were still gently rested on his bronzed shoulders, and stood up. He’d grown since I last saw him. He was now well over six feet tall. He’d been working out, too. A brand new Will, who’d left his old self behind in Vermont. I pulled him away from his sexy entourage.

“Will,” I hissed in a whisper, “keep your mouth shut about your winnings, or these girls will strip you bare.”

“They already have,” he said, raising a confident eyebrow. Just like Will—he’d always been generous, never understood the meaning of money. “Have already stripped me, already stripped me.”

“How much?” I said, wondering how he’d handle it when it finally sunk in what he’d done.

“All the way, sis. With all three.” He was still grinning.

“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

“Sure am.”

“Did you use a condom?”

“I used three condoms.”

I couldn’t help but smile—Will always did take things literally. I had my answer, anyway. He was no longer a virgin. Three times no longer a virgin. “The money, have you spent it all?”

“Nooo, it’s in the bank.”

“In a bank? Like a
real
bank?”

“I opened up a bank account today. Put my winnings in, except I did buy the girls dresses, and drinks and, well . . . maybe some jewelry. Taking them out tonight, dresses and all. They look great in their dresses, great in their dresses.”

“You put the money in a
bank
?”

“Better under a mattress? Or down a bra?” He laughed. I was reeling with this information; Will and banks didn’t seem to go hand in hand.

“Will, how much are you talking about?”

“Eighty thousand dollars. Give or take, give or take, give or take.”

“Holy shit! You’re kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“And you put it in a bank?”

“Yup.”

I narrowed my eyes. “In your name, or in one of the girl’s names?”

“Janie, I’m not dumb.” He twizzled around like Fred Astaire.

“Holy shit!” I sounded like a broken record. I hugged my not-so-little brother in celebration, my arms squeezing him in a tight embrace. Here I’d been thinking he needed my help. Maybe what he really needed, all along, was to get away from us—from Dad and me—to think clearly, be his own person, and this trip to Vegas offered that. We spoke some more and Will revealed that, before he laid his first bet on the table, he’d come up with an airtight plan; to quit after his third winning, put the money away, and only invest five percent with each new round. If he lost, he told me, too bad, but if he won, it would prove that his system worked. It did. Another thing he confided was that he’d planned this trip ahead of time.