“Whatever,” I say, giving in and letting her win. “Let’s just find our ride.”

My heart’s not in the fight anymore.

My heart’s tired of fighting.

I turn and continue walking towards the Gold Strike Casino and I don’t look back. But when the doors whoosh open, the little Smurfette follows me inside.

We get about ten paces before security stops me. “What?” I ask, annoyed.

The guy is big, bald, and has a look to him that says professional. He nods behind me so I turn. Sasha is peeking around another equally professional-looking guard. “I can’t come in!” she says in an uneven voice.

So she is a kid. The little brat isn’t as cool as she seems. “All right,” I tell the guard. “Sorry, I’m not used to having her around. I just forgot. We’re hitting the buffet anyway.”

I backtrack, pluck her by the shirt, and steer her to the right where the restaurant is. We don’t wait to be seated because there’s a sign that says, Seat Yourself, and I choose a booth that faces the front of the casino.

Sasha slides in her side of the booth and I grab two menus from behind the salt-and-pepper shakers and flop one down in front of her.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re a bad liar, Sasha. Besides, you hinted on the plane you’ve been starving for months. So cut the martyr act and pick some food.”

The waitress comes a few minutes later and I order myself a coffee and her an orange juice, then go back to the menu. “What’re you getting?” I get the silent treatment, so I lower my menu to look her. Her eyebrows are knitted together so tightly I have to laugh. “Just choose some breakfast.”

“I thought you were in a hurry to get home.” Her accent on the word is meant to be mocking. But you don’t need to be a mind-reader to understand that’s longing and not contempt.

“We need a ride. I can’t call a taxi from around here, they’d remember us. I can’t steal a car, we’re lying low. And we can’t walk, it’s too far. So we gotta wait for the right opportunity. And that won’t be for another few hours.”

The waitress comes with our drinks and Sasha gulps hers down as I order the buffet for both of us. “Might as well fill up before we go.”

“What opportunity are we waiting for?” Sasha asks as she sets down her empty orange juice and wipes her mouth.

I smile at her. “Patience, Smurfette. Watch and learn from the master. Come on.” We scoot out and go grab food from the buffet. Say what you want about Vegas, but these people know how to do up the all-you-can-eat buffet.

Sasha gets a plate of everything. I’ve never seen a kid eat so much in my life. Actually, this girl gives every grown man in the place a run for his money. She goes back for fourths. But it passes the time until a little past two a group of loud old ladies come in. Ready to chow down after a day of bingo and slots.

Sasha catches me watching them and kicks me under the table. “Don’t stare at them.”

I empty my fourth cup of coffee and throw a twenty down on the table. “Come on, that’s our cue.”

“What cue?”

She stays sitting, but I get up and walk away. If she’s gonna hang around she needs to learn to follow. She’s been on her own too long, and that’s not good. She’s rogue. And that’s worse. Because if she’s not trying to get me killed with her secrets and setups, then she’s valuable to me and I might keep her around. But only if she can follow directions. The last thing I need is Soldier Smurf going AWOL when I need her the most. I get all the way to the front door before I hear her flip flops behind me.

One tick mark for keeping Sasha.

“Hurry up,” I say over my shoulder as I slide my shades back down. The heat outside is well into triple digits and it blasts my face like I’m standing in front of an inferno. No humidity like the beach. No biting wind like this morning in Colorado. Just breath-stealing desert heat. “We gotta go around back. That’s where they keep them.”

“Keep what?” she asks, as she skips a little to keep up with me.

“Just go along, OK? I got this.” We walk around the building and I search the long line of busses, looking at the name plates above the front windshield. I sigh with relief when I see it. Sandy Valley Community Center.

I chose Sandy Valley for a base house for two reasons. It’s cheap. And it’s got a shitload of old ladies who love to gamble. Almost every day they pile in a bus and come out here in the early morning. They get tired and grab lunch, then head back on the bus so they can get home in time to take the afternoon nap.

I knock on the door and the driver whooshes it open. “Help you?”

I dig in my wallet and pull out a Sandy Valley Community Center Transport card. Then point to Sasha. “My kid sister’s coming too.”

He looks at my card, squinting at it a little. It’s legit. The city recreation manager is a Company employee. Well, was. She’s dead now. And while I might be the only guy on the planet who has a card like this, the dude cannot find any good reason to tell me no.

So he just shrugs and hands it back. “Welcome aboard. Take any seat you want.”

Sasha and I hop up the steps and I have a little moment of pride when she does not automatically take the last seat in the back, but instead takes one that faces the aisle. You sit in the back and everyone sees your face straight on. But if you sit in the aisle, they only see your profile.

Her dad was a good teacher and I’d hate to have to kill her. But I will if I have to and the more she obeys, the higher her chances of survival climb.

A little while later the old ladies come back. They are all pretty spry for their age and don’t need help or anything. But since we’re taking up two seats that weren’t filled on the way out here, I stand and let a grandma have my seat.

It’s a thirty-minute drive back into Sandy Valley, and from there it’s a three-mile hike outside of town to my little patch of desert. We head south, Sasha complaining the whole way. And by this time the afternoon sun is brutal. I stop at the edge of an empty expanse of acreage and shield my eyes. “We can cut off about half a mile if we walk through the desert instead of the streets. Come on, we’ll be there in like twenty minutes.”

I head out into the scrub, my boots kicking up sand and dirt, but when I glance back, she’s still back there on the sidewalk. “What?” I shout at her. She’s been good since breakfast and right now I need her to stay that way. I’m not in the mood for this kid shit. “Let’s f**king go!”