Survival Of The Fittest

"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...

"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..."

20/06/2021 - 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.