Jane returned from wherever just as I was finishing putting on my face. She didn’t come looking for me—at least I had something to be thankful for. I had smoked out my eyes and pulled back only the very top of my hair.
I went back to my bedroom and pulled on the long coat I had laid out. I picked up my purse to leave just as my bedroom door opened. I turned raising an eyebrow. There was a girl staring at me who sure as hell wasn’t Jane. She had long dark hair with severe bangs and bull ring hanging from her nose.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I put my purse over my shoulder and cocked my head.
“Savannah” I said it sweetly without an answer to her challenge.
“Where the fuck is my shit?”
“I suggest you talk to Jane about that.”
She started to walk toward the dresser.
“Do you want the dresser?”
She stopped and looked at me.
“I want my shit.”
“Then I suggest you talk to Jane.”
I narrowed my eyes letting her know that I wasn’t in the mood.
She went for it.
Well Goddamn Sonofabitch.
I grabbed a fistful of hair and swung her around so she was facing me again.
She lashed on trying to hit me.
“I suggest you talk to Jane.”
I pushed her toward the door still holding her hair. She cussed at me with a sad degree of impotence.
“Fuck you, you fucking whore.”
“Honey, I don’t even know you.”
I had dragged her as far as the living room when the front door opened. Jane entered, wearing glasses and holding a shopping bag. Her face fell. I let the lover go and walked past Jane. I was late for work and didn’t have time for this shit.
At work I found the place in near chaos, Shack had fallen down after work last night and broken his wrist. I shrugged, the fucker didn’t do anything anyway. More tips for me.
Looking forward to being alone behind the counter, I ended up with Don. Freaky quiet Don who creeped into my thoughts even when I wasn’t here. I was tense and he knew it.
“Whats wrong”
I was wiping down the counter so hard that muscles looked like they were straining.
“Got a lot on my mind.”
I quickly changed the subject.
“How long has it been since you tended the bar?”
“I was filling in until I hired you?”
I nodded and kept wiping down the counter. The seats were mostly full of people drinking water and soda, waiting for the real action to start and their friends to arrive.
Jesus, I could damn near hear that fuckers brain working as he moved around me.
I had forgone the titty top and was wearing a simple hot pink muscle shirt and jeans. I had adorned my ears with crystal covered hoops that I had picked up in a thrift store. A fake rose tattoo decorated my right bicep and so far had fooled a few.
As the crowed started trickling in I went on autopilot, disturbed by my hyper awareness of the short fucker working the bar with me. My salvation came through the door at exactly 11:03.
Not particularly good looking, he walked with an attitude that said otherwise. When he stepped up to the bar and ordered a Bud my lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. He didn’t speak, he drawled and played with the Sierra Nevada cap I had left on the bar.
He hung around drinking his beer and watching me. Jesus I needed this…
He caught my hand and hour later as I picked up his empty draft glass.
“What’s your name dawlin?”
I bit my lip and shifted to my other foot.
“Savannah”
He smiled.
“You from Georgia, Savannah?”
“Many moons and drinks ago.” I replied.
He smiled and drank from the fresh beer I put in front of him.
By three I was tangled up in the sheets with him in my former Lesbian bed. We had christened it three times. I didn’t realize until he started snoring, that I was painfully sober and had a stranger in my bed.
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