It’s fucking magic.
This place is alive, infused with kitsch and glimmer, and it makes no apologies. Gotta respect the hell out of a place like that.
There are earth-shattering losses and magnanimous winnings. There are tourists and locals, pimps and hookers, dreamers and doers. There’s no other city with hope floating so thick in the air you can grab it by the handful.
Vegas has a soul; of that I’m certain.
“See you then.” Calypso disappears under the dark awning shared by our neighboring apartments.
EIGHT
Calypso
“Bill. Bill. Bill. Junk. Bill. Junk.” I sort the mail at work the next morning. For months, I’ve been stalking the mail carrier like some war bride waiting to hear from her overseas husband, only my overseas husband is the number one writing academy in the nation. And we’re not married. He hasn’t even accepted my proposal yet. But I love him so hard. “Us Weekly. You want it, Presley?”#p#分页标题#e#
“Nothing from Havenhurst?” She takes the thin, glossy mag from my hand and flips straight to the back. I’ve never understood why anyone would want to read a magazine backward. I tried it once, and it felt unnatural. Even my free-spirited soul knows there’s an order to certain things.
“Do I look like I just saw a letter from Havenhurst?” I wear a blank expression. I can’t even pretend to be optimistic anymore. Each day that passes without so much as an acknowledgement of my application tends to stuff my hope into places so deep I’ll never fully recover it all. “The day I get my letter, you’ll know. Trust me.”
I tear the end off an envelope and slide out the bill, following suit with the others until I have a decent-sized pile to take to my office. I haven’t looked at the books in weeks, but there should be enough to cover these.
“They’re idiots if they reject you.” Presley’s eyes widen and squint as she examines her nail beds. “I’ve read your work, and you’re a fab writer. No one has a voice like yours. It’s like you have a magnifying glass honed in on the human condition. You notice everything, and you see things from your own little Calypso lens. Honestly, you don’t even need them. Ever considered that?”
“It’s a legitimacy thing,” I say. “Something to put in my author bio someday. Only the greats have attended Havenhurst. Only the greats teach at Havenhurst. If you were a painter and you had the opportunity to study under Picasso or Renoir, wouldn’t you do everything you could to make it happen? Wouldn’t you at least try?”
Presley shrugs, chomping on neon green gum as her nose wrinkles.
“I still think you don’t need them,” she says. “Who cares how Fancypants Writer and Literary Snob McGhee tell you to write? You should write like Calypso. The world doesn’t have a Calypso yet.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate it,” I say. “But let’s talk about something else. Who’s on the cover of that magazine?”
I don’t care about celebrities. In fact, I couldn’t possibly care less than I already do. But anything’s better than dwelling on my assumed rejection from Havenhurst Academy.
She holds up the glossy cover and squints at me. “You really want to talk about Kim and Kanye?”
“Not really.”
“Okay then.”
“I’m losing the business,” I blurt. Now’s as good a time as any. “Whether or not I get into Havenhurst, this place is closing.”
She tosses the gossip rag aside and leans forward. “Come again?”
“My balloon payment is due in three months. I don’t have the money.” I pick at my nails. Ripping at a peeling piece of cuticle is better than staring into Presley’s disappointed gaze. “I failed. My business is failing.”
“There’s got to be something you can do.” She nibbles on a painted thumbnail, her forehead wrinkled. “Can you take out more ads or something? Want me to spin a sign on the corner?”
“Can’t afford ads, but I’d spend money to watch you spin a sign.” We lock eyes. I need to be serious for a moment. “I’m so sorry, Pres. I failed you. I failed this place. I feel awful about it.”
“You didn’t fail,” Presley says. “You put in sixty hours each week just to keep the lights on. You pay us more than minimum wage when you don’t even have to. I don’t know how you pay yourself a salary at the end of the day, but Calypso, you didn’t fail. You tried. That’s all that matters.”#p#分页标题#e#