It's another hot night, dry and windless. The kind that makes people do sweaty, secret things. I wait and I listen.
For a while it's as quiet as it gets in Sin City. Coyote calls from the hills. Police sirens rising, falling, cutting through the traffic's white-noise roar.
My right calf is beginning to cramp up and I'm thinking about going downstairs and getting my money back from the bellhop when I hear the jangle of keys at the door and they come in --
"This is the last time, Cyndi. It's got to be the last time."
Click.
"Whatever you say, Mayor."
"I mean it, this time."
She glides out of her coat like it was Christmas wrapping, playing it for all it's worth and it's worth plenty. She's got the kind of figure you notice.
It's her voice that spoils everything.
Click.
A little girl's voice, all squeaky and mousy and bubbly and bouncy with false innocence...
"I had a dream about you last night, Mayor. It was a nice dream. Do you want to hear about it?"
"No. No dreams tonight. I haven't got the time. I haven't got any time. I have to get home soon. And this is the end for us. The last time. I can't go on taking the chance."
"Whatever you say, Mayor. You give the orders. You're the one with the green diamond above your head."
She adds a good half-dozen extra syllables to "head," ending it with a through-the-teeth D that's all business.
And already he's breathing hard. The jerk.
Click.
"It's my wife, damn her. She's asking all kinds of questions. She suspects something. She'll sue. She'll get everything."
"Everything you've worked so hard for."
"You're damn right I work hard. I work my butt off night and day. I always have built my commercial zones up out of nothing. Nothing."
"And nobody appreciates you, do they Mayor? Not like you deserve."
"No. Nobody.
Not the employees I keep off food stamps -- and not my wife, damn her. My own wife. Living in the house I bought her. Wearing those clothes I bought her with my money. My hard-earned money. And she doesn't appreciate a damn thing.
She doesn't even try to understand the kind of pressure I'm under. She doesn't even try, damn her. She's always coming at me. Always making demands. Never giving me a break. Just like all those lazy bums who wouldn't have a paycheck if I didn't sign it -- They can get sick, but me? Not a chance!"
"It's because you're so strong."
"You're damn right about that! But do I get any credit? Hell, no! They just take and take!
One of these days I'll fire the whole pack of them. Show them who's the big man! Show them who's boss!"
Clink. Snap. Snap.
"I will.
I'll show you...I'll show you who's boss..."
"You can show me, Mayor. You can show me who's boss."
Then she's moaning and saying "boss" in time with his grunts.
It's all over pretty quickly.
Click.
Click.
Click.
I get everything I need. The sad thing is that some of the compositions I pick are pretty good.
"Oh God, Mayor, that was just incredible. You make me feel like a woman. I know that sounds corny, but it's true. So true. It takes a real man to make a girl feel like this."
"I love you, baby. You know I love you."
"I love you too, Mayor. You're all the man I'll ever need. I count the minutes when you're gone. I honestly do. My wrists hurt, Mayor. Think you could get the keys? They're right in my purse."
"You don't have any idea how much I love you. How much I've sacrificed. It's tearing me up inside."
"Mayor, what are you doing?!"
"It's tearing me up! How much I love you -- and what I have to do! But I've worked hard! Damn hard! And Gloria would get everything! It's all her fault! I don't have any choice!"
"Mayor. No. Please. I won't tell anybody. I swear to God."
"I know you won't WANT to talk, Cyndi, I know that..."
Oh, my aching back.
"...but you're only human. And my wife will offer a lot of money. My money. My own money and she'll use it to bring me down..."
"I'll go away. I'll leave town and go someplace she'll never find me. Our sister city. The gave us a windmill!"
"YEAH? And how will you get there? Fly? And who will pay for the ticket? The ticket and God knows what else! And apartment? A car? Clothes? You'll suck me dry and you'll never stop!"
"Mayor -- I beg you, baby..."
"Don't make this any harder than it is, damn you!"
KASHHHHHH yAAA
"Kill him! KILL HIM!"
"Blagg"
Nobody's killing anybody. Not while I'm around.
"Then can I have a ride?" she asks, using her real voice. This time a voice that's left innocence a lifetime behind. I grab the keys and uncuff her. I leave the jerk for house-keeping. On the way out she gives him a kick that'll still hurt like Hell when he comes to.
I take the road off the left side of the screen, toward the River City. It takes longer that way, but I figure with the way she's shaking she could use the time to settle down. At first all she can do is sob and blow her nose and lift dirty plates. She lifts six dirty plates. She's just about pulled herself together when some crazy blonde cuts us off, making poor Cyndi almost jump out of her skin.
Driving like a bat out of Hell, that one. Crazy. There's never a good reason for breaking the frame rate.
"Thanks for my life, man!"
The last I see of Cyndi, she's finally fixed her makeup and she's sauntering away like a pro, tossing me a wave and a wink, one hooker to another. Then she blends into the sea of flesh that is River City. River City, where beauty is cheap provided all you want to do is look. But if you're ready to pay, you can have anything you can imagine. I hold tight to the wheel to keep my hands from shaking. I pull out and cut back over the hill. Out. Away. Being there makes me want to BARF!
I put the game on and pray it will chase away the memories. The damn River City memories of drunken mornings and Acro Circus and stupid, bloody brawls. You can't just pick and choose. You can't take the good without the bad.
Not once you let the monster out.