Cheap hooker vibe won’t work for Nevada

“Our future lies in business sectors like technology commercialization, bioscience, renewable energy asset development, and defense sector expansion.”

—Gov. Brian Sandoval, State of the State address

“Rich Worthington, president of the Molasky Group of Cos., (in December) told the Las Vegas Sun about trying to recruit two major companies to Las Vegas—Ikea and EarthLink. Both companies liked the state’s tax structure, but both declined to come because there weren’t enough college graduates here.”

—Las Vegas Sun editorial

The horizon turns crimson. The girls saunter out to the sidewalk, lining up along brick walls of dark stores.

A busty brunette, Illinois smoothes her long hair, adjusts her halter and fishnet stockings.

“Your teeth are sooo pearly white,” observes California, a lanky blonde in stilettos.

“Thanks,” Illinois says. “I just had them done.” She smiles at Cali, giving her outfit a glance. “That jacket is stunning.”

“Yes, it was expensive but it looks hot.”

“Worth every penny.”

“That’s what I say.”

“Who’s doing your hair?”

“I think you know who.”

“Really? Spending some money these days?”

“Takes money to make money,” Cali says.

Nevada stands apart, lean but disheveled, her brassy bleached hair barely combed. Her dress is covered with sequins, outdated and worn as a neon sign on a derelict Reno casino.

Cali greets her warmly. “How’s business?”

“Not so good,” Nevada says. “But I have a plan.”

“That’s great! New hairstyle? Buy some clothes?”

“Facelift?” Illinois mumbles under her breath.

“Nah. Here’s the thing. I’m going to undersell you all.”

“Undersell?”

A limousine drives up—Valent Bioscience Corp. A man peers out of a dark window.

“I’m looking for a state who can give me what I need,” he says.

The hookers primp and pose. Cali gives the driver a sunny grin. Illinois forms her collagen-filled lips into a pout. Nevada tugs her skirt down over runs in her nylons.

“You’ll love my climate,” Cali says, eyes fluttering.

“Sir, I have a graduate degree in what you need,” Illinois says, seductively.

“Choose me,” Nevada says, perkily. “I’m free!”

Valent points a chubby finger at Illinois.

“Come with me, beautiful,” Valent says. “Let’s do business.”

“It’ll cost you a bundle,” Illinois warns.

“Make me believe you’re worth it.”

“Wait, I’m free!” Nevada cries.

Valent shakes his head. “No thanks, Nevahda.”

Illinois climbs into Valent’s car.

California and Nevada stand on the sidewalk.

“So, explain your plan,” California says.

“Asking for money scares customers away. And I really need the work.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. Believe me, I’ll do more business than you.” Nevada picks her teeth.

“Would you like some gum?”

“Thanks. I ran out of toothpaste in 2009.”

“With no cash, how will you pay bills?”

“By attracting business.”

A 2011 Hummer Wee drives up. Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg jumps out of the car. “Cali, come back to me,” he says. “We have history together.”

“Dating you was like dating a Stairmaster,” Cali says.

Nevada chimes in, “I’m free!”

Zuckerberg waves her off. Cali shrugs and climbs into the Hummer.

Alone, Nevada chews her fingernails. A 1989 Chevy Nova pulls up, its bumper held in place with duct tape.

“C’mere,” grunts the driver, who sounds like the Ginsu knife announcer guy from late-night infomercials. “My window doesn’t roll down.”

Nevada hustles to his door.

“I’m free,” she says. “It won’t cost you a thing to do business with me.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” he replies. “Don’t underrate yourself. Hop in and I’ll hook you up with my six-in-one kitchen gadget.”

Nevada smiles and climbs in his car.