Everything Stays In Vegas
by NotForSaleYet
I hate Vegas. I would never come here, but business is where it is. I pulled my motor home onto Boulder Highway and headed for the interstate. I wanted to be in St George Utah before nightfall.
I was sitting at a red light when it happened. I could see him screaming at her and she just kept turning her back to him and trying to ignore him. He slammed her in the middle of her spine and it catapulted her into the intersection, less than ten feet from my bumper. Well, fuck. I killed the diesel, opened the door and stepped out. When I went to lean down and help her up this asshole says,
"Get your hands off my wife motherfucker."
"You his wife girl?" I asked.
"No, we're divorced."
"Fuck you bitch. No paper can take you from me. You're mine."
The asshole grabbed my arm so I did the only thing I could do, I kicked him in the nuts. When he bent over, grabbing his balls, I kicked him again. Sounded like one of his hands broke. He screeched and tried to turn. I kicked him in the head and down he went. I pulled his body onto the curb in the median. Why kick? Because you can hurt your hands hitting hard bone and your feet are protected by boots. Shouldn't be that hard to figure.
"You need to get away from here girl, before he wakes up."
"I have nowhere to go and no money mister."
"Shit. How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"Ok, get on board and I'll get you out of this area."
"I have to get my stuff first. It's over in the bushes."
"Fine. Get your stuff and lets get out of here before the asshole wakes up or the cops get here."
One nice thing about Vegas. The light had turned green twice so far and not one single vehicle bothered to stop and see what was going on. The few pedestrians just walked around us and kept going.
A minute later out she comes from the bushes. She had a knapsack and a bundle in her arm. I waited by the door of my motor home. When she started up the steps the bundle cried. Oh crap, a talking bundle. Now what do I do?
I strapped her and the bundle on the couch and got the rig moving. As soon as we were out in the desert I pulled over at the first area on the highway wide enough for safety. I swiveled my seat around and looked at this girl and her bundle. She was rocking it gently.
"How old?"
"She's almost three months old."
Crap. I'm a sucker for babies, probably because I was one once myself, maybe.
"His kid?"
"Not any more."