"We're caught in a trap"
"I can't waaalk out"
"Because I love you too much, bay-beh~"
08/02/2016 - Las Vegas Boulevard
In the middle of a brightly lit stage stood a man in white.
Hips shaking, grizzly chest on full display, blue suede shoes tapping away and hair styled into a magnificent pompadour.
The resemblance to a certain King of Rock 'n' Roll was uncanny.
But this man was not The King. The King's been dead for almost 40 years. He was but one of the many imposters that infested Vegas, albeit a particularly talented one.
His name was Marty Benowitz.
His audience tonight was a lively one, relatively speaking. Mostly the usual suspects, drinking their favourite cocktails in between investing their savings into blackjack and roulette. There were a fair few tourists as well, here to enjoy the spectacle of an Elvis performance whilst they gambled away their travel money.
Was it an experience comparable to performing at concerts to the screams of an adoring crowd? Not even close. But for an impersonator trying to make a living in Sin City, it wasn't a bad gig. Pay was decent, too. End of the day, it was about as close to living the dream as many could hope for.
"Don't you know I'm... Caught in a trap?"
"I can't waaalk out"
"Because I love you too much, bay-beh~"
"Great performance tonight, Mr Benowitz! Saw a lot of smiling faces in the crowd!"
"Really? Dealers must be getting sloppy, heh"
Marty chugged down a bottle of water, wiping his brow as he stared into a changing room mirror. Man, they must've had the heating turned up or something, he was sweating like a pig. Wasn't used to feeling this out of breath at the end of a show either, his chest tightening up and heart thumping something crazy. Must be getting rusty in his old age, with every day taking him closer to the big 4-0. Maybe about time he started making retirement plans.
At least his hair still looked great. He liked to think it was his biggest advantage over the competition; Most impersonators wore wigs, but Marty? Marty's do was the real deal. It was that extra bit of authenticity that helped make him stand out amidst a sea of imitators.
"Oh Mr Benowitz, there's a special guest who'd like to see you..."
Marty raised his brow, creaking his elbow as he swivelled in his chair to see a familiar pair of faces near the doorway. The first of course being his beloved wife Gianna. The other...
"DAD!"
"Aaaaaaaye-Jaaaaaay, c'mere scamp!" called Marty, face beaming as his son ran to his side. "I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight!"
"Mom said if I got an A for my homework that she'd take me to see you perform" said Aaron, standing proudly as his father let out a wheezy laugh.
"Aaaah, atta boy!" replied Marty, reaching out to ruffle his son's head. "Lemme guess, your mother pulled some strings to get security to turn a blind eye, eh?"
"Tony still owed me a favour..." said Gianna, with a knowing smile.
Marty simply chuckled, adjusting his collar before slapping his son on the shoulder. "Well, I gotta get changed, but I'll catch up with you two in a sec - know this one place nearby that do great shakes, real fancy ones!"
Aaron cheered. Gianna smiled. And before long the two had left, leaving Marty alone with his thoughts once again.
He smiled at his reflection, before taking a deep intake of breath.
God damn, his chest was feeling funny tonight...
The King Is Dead
Multishot - CW: Heart Failure, Depression, Health Anxiety
"Aw c'mon Aaron, we need a fourth player!"
"Forget it Billy, let's go find someone else"
"Fine... Man, you used to be fun"
"Geeze, Aaron's been a real buzzkill since his Dad bit it"
"I know, right? Like, it's been six months dude, get over yourself!"
"Yeah. It musta sucked and all, but does he really have to be all mopey about it?"
"I heard they found him in a Wendy's bathroom"
"Really? I thought it was an Arby's?"
"Huh. Live like The King, die like The King"
"Hey, is that Aaron? What's he doing here, isn't he a fifth grader?"
"Haven't you heard? He missed so many classes that he has to repeat fourth grade!"
"Really? Damn, sucks to be him"
"STRIKE THREE! You're out, Benowitz!"
"Thanks a lot, Aaron"
"Way to throw the game, dipshit"
"Fucking bushleaguer"
"Pff, is that a flower? Is this, like, a prank or something? Did Janet set you up for this?"
"...oh."
"Uh, well... I mean, I guess that's sweet of you and all, but..."
"Forget it Billy, let's go find someone else"
"Fine... Man, you used to be fun"
"Geeze, Aaron's been a real buzzkill since his Dad bit it"
"I know, right? Like, it's been six months dude, get over yourself!"
"Yeah. It musta sucked and all, but does he really have to be all mopey about it?"
"I heard they found him in a Wendy's bathroom"
"Really? I thought it was an Arby's?"
"Huh. Live like The King, die like The King"
"Hey, is that Aaron? What's he doing here, isn't he a fifth grader?"
"Haven't you heard? He missed so many classes that he has to repeat fourth grade!"
"Really? Damn, sucks to be him"
"STRIKE THREE! You're out, Benowitz!"
"Thanks a lot, Aaron"
"Way to throw the game, dipshit"
"Fucking bushleaguer"
"Pff, is that a flower? Is this, like, a prank or something? Did Janet set you up for this?"
"...oh."
"Uh, well... I mean, I guess that's sweet of you and all, but..."
06/20/2021 - Downtown Las Vegas
There was a time when Aaron J. Benowitz actually enjoyed walking through Fremont Street.
He always preferred it over The Strip, having spent the formative years of his life in Downtown Vegas. It left him feeling nostalgic for a bygone era, one he never got to experience himself. The brightly lit casinos, the electric light canopy, Vegas Vic and his neon smirk. The aggressive spectacle of it all used to fill him with such wonder.
He missed those days. All he could see now were shadows. Memories that should've been pleasant, but now just reminded him of a past he could never revisit. A bygone era he did experience, one he wished so desperately to return to.
His mother had hoped taking him here would have the opposite effect. That those childhood memories would rekindle something within him, bring back the happy young boy she remembered raising. Instead he just seemed to double down, face partially concealed behind an overgrown mop of hair as he glumly meandered alongside her.
"Nice to see this place looking lively again" said Gianna, forcing a smile to try and encourage her son to do the same.
Aaron shrugged, not offering much or a response beyond that. He did however start noticing other things about Fremont Street, now that he was bereft of his rose-tinted glasses. The homeless oddballs ranting about Jesus, the dishevelled young women who definitely weren't hookers, whatever the hell that smell was. The longer he spent there, the more he began to wonder why he ever had any fondness for the area to begin with.
His mother frowned, her attention briefly drawn away by a trio of laughing tourists who flew above their hands, riding underneath the canopy on an elaborate zipline attraction. "Ooh, what about SlotZilla? Or Crateful Dead, when was the last time we went there?"
"Tenth birthday. Dad took us bowling."
"...ah" Gianna responded, eyes glancing at a sign advertising Father's Day specials.
They continued walking in silence, or as silent as they could be with the sights and sounds that assaulted them on all sides.
"You know, I hear a lot of folk who graduate from Red Rock go on to play for the Rebels!" Gianna chimed, with a hopeful smile.
Aaron shrugged again. "Cool"
At which point Gianna stopped, brows furrowed as she turned to face her son. "Okay, well... What would you like to do? I wanna treat you to something nice today, so..." she asked, hands spread wide and brow raised. "...any suggestions?"
Aaron just stood there, not looking at anything really. "Dunno"
His mother sighed, reaching up to rub her forehead in frustration.
"Sorry..."
"No, its fine dear, I..." his mother began, before stopping herself. She wanted to go on about how it wasn't easy for her to come to terms with Marty's death either. About how she never really had a chance to grieve properly, what with all the responsibilities that landed on her with his passing. About how much she missed her son's smile.
Gianna resisted the urge to unload right there and then. Wasn't really the right time or place.
But just as she was about to give up, an idea crossed her mind as her eyes found themselves drawn to Aaron's sorry excuse for a hairstyle.
"Okay, tell you what..." she continued, pausing briefly after a disgruntled gambler brushed past. "First, let's ditch this joint - never really liked Fremont Street anyway"
She motioned for Aaron to follow her as she swiftly made her way down the street, back the way they came.
"But before I call us a cab, how's about we stop off somewhere on the way home?"
Aaron raised his brow, before shrugging once again as he started following along.
There was a time when Aaron J. Benowitz actually enjoyed walking through Fremont Street.
He always preferred it over The Strip, having spent the formative years of his life in Downtown Vegas. It left him feeling nostalgic for a bygone era, one he never got to experience himself. The brightly lit casinos, the electric light canopy, Vegas Vic and his neon smirk. The aggressive spectacle of it all used to fill him with such wonder.
He missed those days. All he could see now were shadows. Memories that should've been pleasant, but now just reminded him of a past he could never revisit. A bygone era he did experience, one he wished so desperately to return to.
His mother had hoped taking him here would have the opposite effect. That those childhood memories would rekindle something within him, bring back the happy young boy she remembered raising. Instead he just seemed to double down, face partially concealed behind an overgrown mop of hair as he glumly meandered alongside her.
"Nice to see this place looking lively again" said Gianna, forcing a smile to try and encourage her son to do the same.
Aaron shrugged, not offering much or a response beyond that. He did however start noticing other things about Fremont Street, now that he was bereft of his rose-tinted glasses. The homeless oddballs ranting about Jesus, the dishevelled young women who definitely weren't hookers, whatever the hell that smell was. The longer he spent there, the more he began to wonder why he ever had any fondness for the area to begin with.
His mother frowned, her attention briefly drawn away by a trio of laughing tourists who flew above their hands, riding underneath the canopy on an elaborate zipline attraction. "Ooh, what about SlotZilla? Or Crateful Dead, when was the last time we went there?"
"Tenth birthday. Dad took us bowling."
"...ah" Gianna responded, eyes glancing at a sign advertising Father's Day specials.
They continued walking in silence, or as silent as they could be with the sights and sounds that assaulted them on all sides.
"You know, I hear a lot of folk who graduate from Red Rock go on to play for the Rebels!" Gianna chimed, with a hopeful smile.
Aaron shrugged again. "Cool"
At which point Gianna stopped, brows furrowed as she turned to face her son. "Okay, well... What would you like to do? I wanna treat you to something nice today, so..." she asked, hands spread wide and brow raised. "...any suggestions?"
Aaron just stood there, not looking at anything really. "Dunno"
His mother sighed, reaching up to rub her forehead in frustration.
"Sorry..."
"No, its fine dear, I..." his mother began, before stopping herself. She wanted to go on about how it wasn't easy for her to come to terms with Marty's death either. About how she never really had a chance to grieve properly, what with all the responsibilities that landed on her with his passing. About how much she missed her son's smile.
Gianna resisted the urge to unload right there and then. Wasn't really the right time or place.
But just as she was about to give up, an idea crossed her mind as her eyes found themselves drawn to Aaron's sorry excuse for a hairstyle.
"Okay, tell you what..." she continued, pausing briefly after a disgruntled gambler brushed past. "First, let's ditch this joint - never really liked Fremont Street anyway"
She motioned for Aaron to follow her as she swiftly made her way down the street, back the way they came.
"But before I call us a cab, how's about we stop off somewhere on the way home?"
Aaron raised his brow, before shrugging once again as he started following along.
It wasn't long before Aaron found himself in another familiar neighbourhood. Not as iconic as Fremont Street, but all the more nostalgic on a personal level.
So many memories. The pizzeria that always stunk of cigarette smoke. The old secondhand video store that was still somehow in buisness. The quaint 50's diner his father used to take him to, usually right after...
Ah. Of course his mother was taking him there. Why else would she have brought him to this street of all places?
King's was about as unforgettable a barbers as you could get. The first thing you tended to notice were the three mannequins posing in the window, each wearing an iconic Elvis outfit from throughout his career: The black and white stripes from Jailhouse Rock, the black leather getup from his '68 comeback special, and of course the famous American Eagle jumpsuit. All with black wigs and sunglasses, obviously. It hadn't changed all that much from the last time he visited, about five years back.
He relented to his mother's insistence that they go in - was probably due a haircut anyway, what difference would it make if it was at his father's favourite barbers. The theming was as blatant on the inside as it was on the outside, his eyes drifting to the numerous picture frames of Elvis's grinning visage as he settled himself into a chair.
"Say, ain't you Marty's kid?"
Aaron turned to the mirror, looking up at the man who was addressing him. Bleach blonde hair, thirty-something, metrosexual beard. Definitely a hairdresser. Aaron didn't recognise him, but he responded with a silent nod.
"Thought so, your dad was one of our best customers. My condolences."
Aaron shrugged.
"Tell you what, before we get started..." the barber continued, heading back behind a desk to start rummaging. "How's about I show you a lil something special?"
There was the slightest hint of curiosity in Aaron's eyes, before offering another shrug.
The barber came back with a small black container, opening it up to reveal a waxy substance. "This right here is pomade. Your father's favourite brand, always made sure to grab a tub whenever he dropped by... Wanna try it out?"
Aaron thought it over for a moment, turning to his mother as she sat nearby on her phone, before offering yet another shrug. Sure, whatever.
With a grin on his face, the barber whipped out a comb and swiftly got to work. Applying a thin waxy layer to Aaron's locks, combing those lopsided bangs back to give his forehead room to breath, taking the time to turn that messy nest of a hairdo into something special. After several minutes of working his magic, the barber stepped back with a proud smile, Aaron's eyes slowly opening to find...
Oh. Oh hello.
"Look suits ya, kid"
Aaron wanted to be a contrarian, but... He had to agree. It was a damn good look. Wasn't a proper pompadour, but with how stylishly his hair was slicked back he almost didn't recognise himself. It was like he was gazing into an alternate universe, staring at a version of himself that finally got his shit together.
He raised a single eyebrow.
"Aaaye, that's more like it!"
Aaron stifled a chuckle, trying to shunt those feelings aside to return to his prior dourness.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't extinguish those feelings. Feelings he clung onto long after he left, haunting him throughout the evening and over the next several weeks. It was like he had caught a glimpse of the kind of man he could become someday.
No. It was a glimpse at the man he will become someday.
So many memories. The pizzeria that always stunk of cigarette smoke. The old secondhand video store that was still somehow in buisness. The quaint 50's diner his father used to take him to, usually right after...
Ah. Of course his mother was taking him there. Why else would she have brought him to this street of all places?
King's was about as unforgettable a barbers as you could get. The first thing you tended to notice were the three mannequins posing in the window, each wearing an iconic Elvis outfit from throughout his career: The black and white stripes from Jailhouse Rock, the black leather getup from his '68 comeback special, and of course the famous American Eagle jumpsuit. All with black wigs and sunglasses, obviously. It hadn't changed all that much from the last time he visited, about five years back.
He relented to his mother's insistence that they go in - was probably due a haircut anyway, what difference would it make if it was at his father's favourite barbers. The theming was as blatant on the inside as it was on the outside, his eyes drifting to the numerous picture frames of Elvis's grinning visage as he settled himself into a chair.
"Say, ain't you Marty's kid?"
Aaron turned to the mirror, looking up at the man who was addressing him. Bleach blonde hair, thirty-something, metrosexual beard. Definitely a hairdresser. Aaron didn't recognise him, but he responded with a silent nod.
"Thought so, your dad was one of our best customers. My condolences."
Aaron shrugged.
"Tell you what, before we get started..." the barber continued, heading back behind a desk to start rummaging. "How's about I show you a lil something special?"
There was the slightest hint of curiosity in Aaron's eyes, before offering another shrug.
The barber came back with a small black container, opening it up to reveal a waxy substance. "This right here is pomade. Your father's favourite brand, always made sure to grab a tub whenever he dropped by... Wanna try it out?"
Aaron thought it over for a moment, turning to his mother as she sat nearby on her phone, before offering yet another shrug. Sure, whatever.
With a grin on his face, the barber whipped out a comb and swiftly got to work. Applying a thin waxy layer to Aaron's locks, combing those lopsided bangs back to give his forehead room to breath, taking the time to turn that messy nest of a hairdo into something special. After several minutes of working his magic, the barber stepped back with a proud smile, Aaron's eyes slowly opening to find...
Oh. Oh hello.
"Look suits ya, kid"
Aaron wanted to be a contrarian, but... He had to agree. It was a damn good look. Wasn't a proper pompadour, but with how stylishly his hair was slicked back he almost didn't recognise himself. It was like he was gazing into an alternate universe, staring at a version of himself that finally got his shit together.
He raised a single eyebrow.
"Aaaye, that's more like it!"
Aaron stifled a chuckle, trying to shunt those feelings aside to return to his prior dourness.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't extinguish those feelings. Feelings he clung onto long after he left, haunting him throughout the evening and over the next several weeks. It was like he had caught a glimpse of the kind of man he could become someday.
No. It was a glimpse at the man he will become someday.
08/09/2021 - Skyline Heights
"AAAARON, your breakfast is getting cold!"
"In a second, Ma!" replied Aaron, double checking his reflection to make sure his hair looked good. Only had one chance at making a first impression, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna flub it. Not after all the effort he's put in over the past month or so.
He ran a comb through his well-maintained pomp, taking a step back to admire himself with a smirk. Not too shabby. Think he might've grown a couple inches over the summer too, must be pushing 6ft at this point. Nice.
Still, there was one thing that kept bothering him... Aaron. For some reason, that just didn't feel right anymore. It was an alright name, sure, but at this point it just reminded him of the loser that used to occupy his mirror. If he was serious about reinventing himself, then he couldn't have people calling him the A-word.
So what should he call himself then? AJ? Hmm, no. Only one man was allowed to call him that, just wouldn't feel right coming out of anyone else's lips. What about his surname? Ben? Benny? Maybe, but... What about his middle name then? Johnathan... John? Johnny?
Hmm. Johnny. Johnny Benowitz. Had a nice ring to it. Little on the nose, maybe, but... Yeah. Yeah, he kinda liked it.
The door opened, his mother poking her head through. "Come on, Aaron! You don't want your waffles going to waste, do ya?"
"Please..." said her son, turning around with a big shit-eating grin on his face. "...call me Johnny"
His mother blinked, before stifling a laugh. "Mmkay, well, your waffles are ready dear..." she replied, before shutting the door.
Johnny shrugged, before reaching out for his brand new varsity jacket - black body, red sleeves. Fit him like a glove. Along with his grey t-shirt and blue jeans, it was the perfect outfit for the Red Rock Rattler's future star player. What better way of making a statement on his first day at high school.
His look complete, he turned to ogle his reflection a little more, grin as wide as ever as he pointed a pair of fingerguns at himself.
He then gasped slightly, reaching up to rub the center of his chest. Could've sworn his heart skipped a beat there... Probably just nerves.
Yeah. Probably just nerves.
Without further ado, Johnny made his way out, quietly singing a song to himself as he did so.
"...because I love you too much, bay-beh~"
((Aaron J. Benowitz - Gonzo))
((Johnny Benowitz - Pregame Start))
"AAAARON, your breakfast is getting cold!"
"In a second, Ma!" replied Aaron, double checking his reflection to make sure his hair looked good. Only had one chance at making a first impression, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna flub it. Not after all the effort he's put in over the past month or so.
He ran a comb through his well-maintained pomp, taking a step back to admire himself with a smirk. Not too shabby. Think he might've grown a couple inches over the summer too, must be pushing 6ft at this point. Nice.
Still, there was one thing that kept bothering him... Aaron. For some reason, that just didn't feel right anymore. It was an alright name, sure, but at this point it just reminded him of the loser that used to occupy his mirror. If he was serious about reinventing himself, then he couldn't have people calling him the A-word.
So what should he call himself then? AJ? Hmm, no. Only one man was allowed to call him that, just wouldn't feel right coming out of anyone else's lips. What about his surname? Ben? Benny? Maybe, but... What about his middle name then? Johnathan... John? Johnny?
Hmm. Johnny. Johnny Benowitz. Had a nice ring to it. Little on the nose, maybe, but... Yeah. Yeah, he kinda liked it.
The door opened, his mother poking her head through. "Come on, Aaron! You don't want your waffles going to waste, do ya?"
"Please..." said her son, turning around with a big shit-eating grin on his face. "...call me Johnny"
His mother blinked, before stifling a laugh. "Mmkay, well, your waffles are ready dear..." she replied, before shutting the door.
Johnny shrugged, before reaching out for his brand new varsity jacket - black body, red sleeves. Fit him like a glove. Along with his grey t-shirt and blue jeans, it was the perfect outfit for the Red Rock Rattler's future star player. What better way of making a statement on his first day at high school.
His look complete, he turned to ogle his reflection a little more, grin as wide as ever as he pointed a pair of fingerguns at himself.
He then gasped slightly, reaching up to rub the center of his chest. Could've sworn his heart skipped a beat there... Probably just nerves.
Yeah. Probably just nerves.
Without further ado, Johnny made his way out, quietly singing a song to himself as he did so.
"...because I love you too much, bay-beh~"
((Aaron J. Benowitz - Gonzo))
((Johnny Benowitz - Pregame Start))