Departure

The tires were bald but the small red pickup truck drove purposefully through the night and the snow in the north Nevada Hills. She paid $30 for a hotel room attached to a casino in Battle Mountain. The neon signs were well maintained and lit up the otherwise dark town with a red aura. She backed into the parking space that had the start to a sinkhole and retrieved her suitcase from the bed of the truck. In the hotel room she quickly checked the beds for bedbugs. Her shoulders ached from thousands of miles in the cramped cab. Her companion, she nearly forgot he was present, walked softly through the door. "Do you..." She cut him off with a not unkind look but an authoritative glance before she slung the suitcase onto the bed nearest the door and popped the latches. "Don't worry about it." She said with a cough to clear the burning cobwebs of tobacco smoke out of her chest. He shrugged his shoulders lightly, dropped his arms to his side then clasped his hands below his belt buckle forming a cup; a slight movement, nearly a pleading gesture, that left her disgusted. "Fuck you, Gabe." His head turned to the mirror hanging above the bureau and noticed the lamp between the beds was missing a shade which created an unusual glare off the mirror. She pulled a pack of Pall Malls out of the breast pocket of her loose fitting flannel and flicked off the light then walked to the door. "I am going to drink in the casino. Would you like to come?" He nodded, his eyes still adjusting to the darkened room. 

They walked into the casino which had a similar glow as the sidewalk outside. Gabe walked in the double doors while she finished her cigarette. Gabe looked to the bar and had a difficult time seeing the faces of the people through the cigarette smoke and red light. She walked by him making sure to not brush shoulders. He watched as the smoke curled back behind her like wings following her sure-footed strides toward the faceless bartender at the far end of the bar. There was no music inside and he felt sad. She looked down the length of the bar at him standing in the entry-way and felt like spitting, but this was not her place so she put her foot on the step below, her elbows on the bar-top, and slowly drank the double of cheap whisky. It was hot in there and the whiskey had become warm on the shelf. She liked the burn even though it nearly made her puke. She ordered another and took it quickly. She ordered another, lit a cigarette, turned slightly to look at Gabe and angled her head enough to spit onto the ragged carpet beneath the stools. She heard the rocks glass set onto the bar in-front of her and turned to the bartender who had seen her spit and merely curled the corner of her tight lips down a bit more; not in disapproval but indifference. She took the shot and let this one go down even slower the first, allowing the whiskey to sit in the gutters of her lower jaw before rolling her head back for the liquid to run down her throat. She knocked the bar twice to signal for another double and looked back for Gabe. He had turned and was walking out the door. The sun was rising and it was bright outside. She pulled out another Pall Mall and before she reached for her Bic the bartender, eyes averted, flicked a match to life and lit her cigarette. She shrugged and straightened her shoulders, which didn't ache anymore.