Today’s lunch break couldn’t come fast enough. Sheila unclipped the hand radio from her belt, placed it in the charging station and stepped out of the admin office. She swiped her punch card at the row of timeclocks across from the vending machines. Sheila returned the punch card into the plastic sleeve of the lanyard draped over her white silk button-up shirt. Bolted against the employee hallway wall, were six of the two-dozen time clocks in the Paradise Capital Hotel which had five-hundred and fifty-six employees. She removed her lanyard and tucked it into the jacket pocket of her Navy-blue pantsuit. The casino floor was slow as usual. Paradise Capital was a mid-size casino in Miami, Florida. The pit was nearly empty. Paradise Capital attracted a crowd of Floridians, snowbirds and elderly tourists who preferred digital slot machines over blackjack, craps, and roulette tables. The daytime gamblers were glued to the big, bright slots that looked like flat screen televisions. Digital reels showcased images of Aces, Jacks, Kings, Queens, Grapes, Oranges, Cherries, Horseshoes, Diamonds, and Bells. The digital slot images zipped up the screens, often reflecting off the bifocal glasses of its player. There were also several rows of more traditional slots with arms on the right side to activate the reels. There was a small lunch rush at the restaurant bar that was surrounded by flat screen TVs for sports betting. The wall of screens showcased horse racing, NASCAR, basketball, golf and Sportscenter. Sheila avoided the busy restaurant, weaving through the hotel guests until she escaped the casino floor. She stepped outside into the pool area behind the hotel. Paradise Capital was a few streets behind Ocean Drive so their “beachfront view” was partly obstructed by other hotels and restaurants. Sheila unbuttoned the top two buttons on her shirt and slid on her Black Hugo Boss sunglasses. The beginning of her weekend was a few short hours away. Sheila approached the bar under a bungalow that was also short on customers. She sat down on a barstool and flashed a smile at Will, her favorite young bartender. Will served two beers to a married couple that retreated to the pool. He turned around and smiled at Sheila.

“Hey you,” Will said.

“Hello, William. Wanna hook me up?”

“Already have it ready.”

Will reached into his mini fridge and pulled out a bright red plastic cup with a lid and a straw. He placed the cup in front of Sheila. Its contents were tonic water, lime juice and about two jiggers full of Tito’s vodka.

“Thaaank you, William.”

Sheila pinched the straw with two fingers and took a sip. Will leaned on the bar. He was wearing a black muscle shirt.

“You know, you can just call me Will.”

Sheila cocked her head to the side, “You don’t like William?”

Will shrugged, “No, I do. It doesn’t really matter to me.”

They both laughed.

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” Sheila said before taking another sip.

“Yeah, we have. Like every week.”

They both laughed again. Sheila felt her cell phone vibrate. She took it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. It was a text from her ex-husband Glenn. Her eyes skimmed over the text, and she placed her phone, face down on the bar top. She brushed her hair behind her ears and returned her focus to Will.

“Have you seen my boytoy? He’s supposed to meet me here?” Sheila asked.

“Your pool boy?”

“My boyfriend, yes.”

There was a silent pause between them. They were smiling and staring into each other’s eyes. Sheila knew her conversations with her favorite work-flirt could go in any direction fast. It broke up the monotony of being the daytime pit-boss at a mediocre casino. But the money was good. This was a new chapter in Sheila’s life. She was forty-four-years-old, and she had shaken off aspects of her old identity that weren’t serving her anymore. Being divorced, being a single mother, raising her kids in Lowell, Massachusetts. When she migrated to south beach, she had no college degree and minimal full-time work experience. After four months of paying weekly rent in a cramped apartment and sleeping on a blow-up mattress, she became dedicated to reinventing herself. Four years later, she worked her way up to pit-boss, owned her own home, she was dating a twenty-seven-year-old lifeguard and she rented her finished basement to her ex- husband, Glenn. Life was good.

“When you gonna dump him already?” asked Will.

But there was still one thing she had missed out on. Sheila took another sip, “Oh, he’s not that bad. Maybe I shouldn’t have moved him into my house though. He’s always pawing at me.”

“What’s he not good in bed?” Will smirked.

“No, he is. Trust me, I wouldn’t have him in my house if he wasn’t.”

“Well, what’s the problem then?”

Sheila looked down at her drink innocently, debating whether she should go there with Will just yet. She looked up at him and leaned closer, “You’re a young guy…Have you ever heard of-”

The shriek of a screaming woman interrupted Sheila’s big reveal. Will and Sheila looked over at the pool a few yards away. They noticed a crowd of people forming poolside. Sheila hopped off the bar stool and scooped up her phone, “What the hell?” She left Will at the bar and walked over towards the pool. She pushed through the crowd and saw a little boy, probably ten years old, lying flat on his back in Marvel Studios swim trunks. The crowd of onlookers were panicking and talking amongst themselves. Sheila’s boyfriend, Jason, was the lifeguard on duty. He was kneeled beside the boy fumbling with the wrapping of his CPR rescue mask with a one- way rubber valve. “DO SOMETHING!” shouted one spectator in the crowd. Jason dropped the still wrapped mask on the concrete next to the boy’s head. His shaking hands plucked the mask back up and he bit at the plastic wrapping with his teeth. Sheila saw the fear and panic in Jason’s eyes. Finally, one of the parents watching shoved Jason aside and began chest compressions and breathed into the boy’s mouth. In what felt like the longest minute ever, the boy inhaled, coughing up water and crying. The little boy’s older brother fell to his knees and embraced him as the crowd clapped. Jason stood up, hands still shaking, mouth agape. Judgmental eyes landed on him. He turned towards the crowd and began his shameful plea. He started stammering, “I- I’m s-sorry. I was about to get the bag open. I-I was about to do it.” He backed away through the crowd that was giving him dirty looks. Sheila hid her face before he saw her and marched back towards the bar.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

“Jesus Christ,” Sheila said.

She shook her head and walked back inside the casino.

That evening, Sheila rolled a joint on her living room coffee table while Jason paced back and forth in front of her. “This is such bullshit. It wasn’t my fault,” Jason complained. He sipped from a glass mason jar full of pineapple juice, rum, and ice. He was still wearing his lifeguard tank top, athletic shorts, and orange Crocs. There was a Lifetime movie playing on the TV at a low volume. Sheila was on her third glass of pink Moscato. She was wearing a red silk robe and a bathing suit underneath. She had taken a quick swim in her above ground pool immediately after returning home from work. Her long black hair was wet. The gray streaks in her hair were especially frizzy but she had combed it all back. She licked the end of the rolling paper and pinched the joint closed.

“You’ll find something else,” Sheila said.

“I liked my job!” Jason snapped back.

“Well, you weren’t very good at it.”

She pinched the joint between her lips. Jason stopped pacing and sighed. He walked over to the recliner, opposite the couch Sheila was sitting on. He sank into the chair.

“How could you say that?” he asked.

“The hotel may be facing litigation because of this,” Sheila said right before sparking the joint with a mini-Bic lighter.

Jason placed his drink on the carpet by his feet. He folded his arms, leaned back in the recliner, and scowled at Glenn’s stuffed crocodile head, mounted on the wall.

“You should’ve had my back, Sheila.”

They heard keys jingle behind the front door and the knob twist. Glenn stepped inside the house. He was wearing cargo shorts, white tube socks with Adidas sneakers, and a short-sleeved, black button-up with white nautical emblems scattered about it. He dipped his head into the living room as he opened the basement door.

“Hi, Sheila. Hey, it’s the pool boy!” Glenn said.

“Stop calling me fucking pool boy!” Jason gripped the seat cushions.

“Whoa, take it easy. What’s up with this guy?” Glenn asked Sheila.

“Jason got fired today,” she replied.

Sheila flicked the ashes of her joint into a dish on the coffee table. Glenn raised his hands with a shrug, “How was I supposed to know?” He walked into the living room and Sheila handed him the joint. He took two hits and offered it to Jason. Jason took the joint and fetched his drink off the carpet. “I’ll be downstairs if ya need me,” Glenn said. He walked over to the basement doorway and marched down the stairs. Jason took a hit from the joint and let out a smoke-filled sigh. Sheila was beginning to get impatient with him. This was her time to relax.

“My dress came in today,” she said.

“You can’t seriously expect me to go on that trip this weekend?”

“What? Why not?”

“After a day like this?”

Sheila folded her arms and leaned back on her sofa. The dress she ordered was a simple, light blue, A-line dress. The kind she would’ve worn to prom if she had the chance.

“You know this trip is important to me,” she said.

“Why do you want me to go all the way to Massachusetts to your high school reunion?” Jason asked.

She shrugged, “Everybody brings a piece of ass with them to the reunion. That’s the whole point.”

Jason cracked a small smile, “I’m just not in the mood. Alright? I need to rethink some things in my life. I’m at a crossroads here.”

“Jeez, okay. I get it. It is kind of a bummer you’re canceling on me on such short notice.”

Jason stood up and joined Sheila on the couch. She snuggled up next to him and he handed her the joint.

“Why don’t you just take Glenn?” he asked.

She looked up at him, “That wouldn’t be weird for you?”

“Would I be jealous? Jealous of Glenn? No,” Jason laughed.

Sheila lifted her face towards Jason and kissed him. The kiss turned into a tongue- swirling makeout while the ember of the joint faded between her fingers. He groped her ass, and she lightly pushed him back.

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

“Yeah. I know it’s important to you. You never got to go to prom, right?”

She took another drag and nodded. She blew out the smoke and handed it back to Jason. “Yeah, when I got pulled out of high school, my mom was neck-deep in some MLM cosmetics scheme. Homeschooling was lonely but she decided that was the best way to deal with my behavioral issues.”

“Damn,” Jason replied.

“Yep.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up, babe?”

“Do you call me pool boy behind my back?”

She cocked her head to one side innocently, “What? Of course not.”

They both giggled. Jason clapped her thigh, stood up and walked into the kitchen to refill his drink, “Go ahead and let him know. I’m sure Glenn will jump at the chance for a free vacation.”

Sheila giggled as she stood up, feeling how stoned she was. Jason opened the fridge and looked back at her, “And maybe while you’re on your little trip you could broach the subject of Glenn moving out sometime this year?”

She opened the basement door, “Sure babe.” She took the first step down towards the basement and she could already hear “Back Door Man” by The Doors, playing from Glenn’s desktop computer speakers. A big smile spread across Sheila’s face. She liked this. She liked who she was. She had found a place between the worlds of her past and her present. This place felt warm. It felt like love coming from all directions. She continued walking down the stairs and the music grew louder. She thought of her mother. She hoped that there was at least one point in her mother’s life where she found a place like this. Sheila wanted this place for everyone but for right now she was just grateful she found it.

– William Brashears