Page 6 of Risk It All

“Do you want anything?”I ask, nodding to the fast food chain.

“Big Mac meal with a Coke, please,” he says as he heads to the bathroom.

I order our food and grab a bottle of water from the gas station before I head back to the car.Anthony is outside, stretching his legs and he grabs the food from me as soon as he spots me.

“Thanks,” he says, popping some french fries into his mouth.

“Thanks for getting the gas.”

“Did you want me to drive?”he asks as I grab my keys out of my hoodie pocket.

“No, we’re almost there.I can do it.”

He shrugs and climbs into the passenger seat as I shove a chicken nugget into my mouth and start the old station wagon.

We finish off the food quickly and then silence stretches between us.It’s a little awkward and I search my brain for something to say.What the heck do people talk about when they want to make small talk?

“Why are you headed to New York?”he asks me and I tell him about my interview.

“So are you an artist?”he asks, wiping his hands off on a napkin.

“No, I mean I can draw some but I’m not going to be the next big artist.I just love art.The talent, the way artists can use nothing but a brush or some paint to make you feel whatever they want.”

I have a feeling that I sound like a dreamy, gushing fool, but I can’t stop myself.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t make fun of me or seem put off by my monologue.Instead, he asks me about my favorite artists and I’m surprised when he knows who they all are.

“Are you into art too?”

“I kind of have to be.My dad is an art history teacher at Harvard,” he says and I gape at him.

Luckily, we’re at a red light, so we don’t get into a wreck.

I can’t contain myself and I think that I ask him about a million questions but he’s a good sport and humors me.The conversation moves onto comedy as we hit the Las Vegas city limits and I ask him about his audition on Friday.

“Or is it bad luck to talk about your set before you do it?Are there rules?”I ask, unsure if he’s superstitious or something.

He laughs.“No, you can talk about it.”

Anthony convinces me to drive down the Strip so that we can see all of the cool hotels.We’re going to be staying in one of the older motels on the old Strip since it’s cheaper but since I want to see the sights too, I swing left onto Las Vegas Boulevard.

Traffic is rough but it gives us time to look around.Anthony points out the Excalibur and the Luxor and we debate which hotel looks like the coolest one to stay at.He says the Luxor but I choose the Bellagio.I remind him about the fountain show and he relents and chooses the Bellagio too.

“Are you going to come to the open mics with me tonight?”He asks.

“I don’t know.It depends.”

“On what?”

“Am I going to have to pretend that I loved your set and that you were great afterwards?”

I expect him to be offended or to make some sarcastic snide retort back but he surprises me by laughing.The sound is full of confidence and it skitters across my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.I turn to him, wanting to see the smile that goes along with that laugh and I catch a glimpse of a cocky, self assured look on his face.

“Oh, trust me.It won’t be pretend,” he promises me and I can’t help but smile at how sure of himself he is.

It’s a little strange to meet an artist who doesn’t seem to have any doubts about their work.

I could barely handle critiques in college.I can’t imagine getting up on stage every night and having to deal with drunk unruly people.

---