Jodi and I have been friends all our lives. Growing up, she probably spent as many nights at my house as she did at home. My Mom called Jodi their third daughter. We shared nearly everything from 5th grade on -- everything but Jeremy Elder, the biggest hottie in our class.
We fought over Jeremy our senior year, but neither of us ever became his "steady." Too bad his daddy got him a scholarship at BYU about the time we graduated and then he left town for good. A week later Jodi got snotty and bragged that she had balled Jeremy the night before he left -- and he promised to come back for her.
Hah! As it happens, he screwed me in the back seat of the same car the night before he nailed Jodi. And you know what? Yeah, he promised to come back for me, too. You guessed it. He never came back, never called, never even sent a postcard. We were so mad at Jeremy we soon got over being mad at each other.
Among the things Jodi and I shared was a dislike for life in Twin Falls. So it's kind of funny we were both still in town three years after high school. Oh, I had been to State for two semesters and gotten good grades. But college wasn't for me -- mainly because I had no idea what I wanted to study. I felt like I was wasting Mom's money, what little there was.
I always thought Jodi was smarter than me, but she never even went to State. Her Dad died when we were 15 and her Mom couldn't afford to send her to college. She stayed home and worked and took some classes at juco.
There we were. Both 21. Both still living at home. Both working at nothing jobs. There were plenty of guys to be had in Twin Falls, if you were willing to "party," which meant drinking, toking and -- sooner or later -- spreading your legs. But most of the guys had no more idea where they were headed than me and Jodi. We weren't thrilled with the idea of "settling" and having babies in a rented mobile home on the edge of town.
Then one Saturday Jodi slammed open my Mom's back door to find me making iced tea in the kitchen.
"Get packed," she said.
"Packed for what?"
"Las Vegas."
So I packed a couple of bags and we left that same afternoon, driving as far as Salt Lake. I was between guys at the time and Jodi didn't even bother to call the guy she was dating. A couple of days later we were jammed into a ratty room in a long-stay motel, cooking on a two-burner stove and looking for work.
It's amazing how fast I got a job cocktailing at a casino on the Strip. What's more amazing is the costume they had me wear. The first couple of days I felt like a hooker with my boobs hanging out. But I soon got used to the tiny skirt, revealing top and heels. Most people seemed not to notice that I was half-naked, and after awhile I stopped feeling self-conscious. I also learned to use Band-Aids on my nipples to keep them from standing out like bullets in the air-conditioned casino.
Guys hit on me all the time, but I was used to dealing with that. I enjoyed the attention, if I was in a flirty mood, but the other girls told me the score. Nice guys don't come to Vegas looking for Miss Right. And I learned to call Security if somebody got too obnoxious. I remember one middle-age jerk who did a double-take when he saw me, then ditched his wife somewhere and came back. He didn't even take off his wedding ring! He must have thought he was such a stunning specimen I'd swoon into his arms. No chance!
Jodi got a job dealing blackjack and our lives settled into a comfortable groove. With our salaries and tips, we were making more money than we could ever hope to make in Twin Falls. We moved to a two-bedroom apartment in a nice complex with a lawn and pool. We fixed up Jodi's car, bought a stereo, good furniture and even pictures for the walls. I got a set of pots and pans and started COOKING! My Mom would have croaked!
Eventually we got the same nights off and spent a lot of evenings going to movies, shows or just exploring Vegas. What a wild town! We met guys everywhere and rarely had to buy a drink. Jodi was always the one who decided which guys we partied with, and which ones got to stay the night. She's very picky -- says I have no judgment -- and she almost never let guys stay over.
"I'm the brains of this outfit," she would say, "and you're the tits."
There's nothing wrong with Jodi's boobs. Her 32Bs are beautifully rounded with tiny pink nipples. She's just sensitive because Jeremy used to call her "Skinny." I think she looks like a model -- pretty, and tall for a girl, with gorgeous, long legs.
I'm the average type. You know, 5-feet-5, 135 pounds, with a bit of an hourglass shape. People are more likely to call me "pretty" than "beautiful." And my tits ARE pretty good, at least as far as guys are concerned. I wear a 34C.
The good times lasted more than a year. Neither of us wanted to spend our lives in casinos, but the work was easy and the money was good. We shared expenses and always seemed to have plenty left over for clothes, CDs or show tickets. We spent a week in California, once, doing all the tourist stuff. We both dated occasionally, nothing serious, and had friends at work and the complex.
Then disaster struck.
I was leaving work one day, just stepping off the curb, when an idling car slipped into gear and lurched forward. It knocked me down, gave me a concussion and broke my leg. It wasn't a complicated break, but the pain was pretty bad. I woke up in the ambulance, then passed out again. I woke up the next day with Jodi at my bedside. She was great. She took care of everything, dealt with the doctors, handled the paperwork, made sure I got my medication on time.
When they finally sent me home, Jodi was in charge again. She got me home and settled, cooked, fed me, cleaned, helped me in the bathroom -- embarrassing. I leaned on her for everything -- a true friend.
My leg continued to heal, but a few days later I woke up feeling hot. I turned up the AC. Jodi left for work and I fell asleep, tossing and turning. I woke in a couple of hours, burning up. The sheets were soaked with sweat. I took some aspirin and that helped. I fell asleep and woke up a few hours later, hot and drenched in sweat again. I took off my clammy nightshirt and took more aspirin.
Jodi called. They wanted her to work a double shift. I told her I was coming down with a cold, but would do fine until she got home. Not.
When Jodi finally got home she found me lying on the sofa, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, shivering and delirious with fever. She dialed 911. I was soon back in the hospital. Pneumonia. For two weeks. When I got home again I had lost 15 pounds and was weak as a kitten. Again the load fell on Jodi. She took great care of me, but her work suffered and she got fired. She wouldn't have told me, but she had to explain why she was spending all day at home.
A week later I felt strong enough to get out of bed and get myself a glass of water. But when I walked into the living room it was bare! All our furniture was gone, including the stereo, the pictures from the walls and the dining room set. I shouted for Jodi.
"Where's all our STUFF!" I cried.
She came out of her bedroom, looking haggard.
"It's gone," she said, her voice flat, her beautiful blue eyes defeated. "I had to sell everything to pay the bills. We're broke."
"Broke?" I was stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"How could I tell you, as sick as you were? And what could you have done, anyway?"
That was our low spot. She helped me back to bed and we laid there, holding each other and crying until we were cried out. Then we took stock. Our rent was paid to the end of the month. We still had our bedroom furniture and clothes, Jodi's 10-year-old car and half a tank of gas. Our food would stretch for a couple of weeks if we ate pasta twice a day.
"We're skating on thin ice," Jodi said wryly. "Keep taking those antibiotics. If you have a relapse we'll have to sell the car."
"What about going home," I asked timidly. She made a face and turned both thumbs emphatically down. I knew her family was a big reason Jodi finally left Twin Falls. They wanted her to marry like her sisters, get religion, have kids. She wanted none of it. Jodi was too much of a free spirit, always going her own way.
