work. But tonight only two bottles and one bartender were missing.
"Screw you, Gyp," Mica said as he lifted out two more bottles. "You probably got mote than beer tonight anyway."
Luci's painting smiled down at him as he turned and walked across the empty room toward the Club's resident jungle beast. He and Gina had never really hit it off, but maybe tonight would be different… maybe tonight she's open up and lower her guard.
Maybe they could finally talk — just talk — about this life, the next and what the hell had been going on in the dressing room all night.
Maybe.
Mica increased the overall voltage on his smile and nodded when Gina finally turned and noticed him standing there. She growled.
Well… maybe not.
But, not being one to be put off by a little show of frayed nerves, Mica set the bottles down and slid into the booth across from her.
"Thought you might like to join me in a nightcap."
Gina ignored the bottle and growled again. This time it sounded as real as the one produced by the MGM lion.
Okay, he thought, I should take the hint and just leave her alone. She doesn't want to talk and she's obviously had a rough night. I should go.
Aw, what the hell.
Smiling, Mica leaned forward and clicked his bottle lightly against hers.
After all, what was the worse thing that could happen to him?
----
CHAPTER 11
"So, how 'bout it? Looks like you could use a nightcap." Mica inched the bottles closer to Gina's hand
— being careful not to get too close to her long, red-lacquered nails. Having seen the results of what those claws were capable of, he wanted to have plenty of room for a quick and strategic retreat if the need arose.
Which it could. In an instant.
He personally knew of at least one Furvert and three hookers who would carry the scars of Gina's
handiwork
to their graves.
She could be a real bitch when she wanted to
, Mica thought,
just like now
.
He had to fight to keep the smile on his face when she twisted around and glared at him. If looks could kill, his ass would be
en brochette
.
"Aw c-c'mon, Gina. A drink'll do you good."
As an example, Mica picked up his bottle and downed half just to get rid of the sudden dryness in his mouth. It didn't help that much.
"Yeah," Gina said, leaning across the table in Mica's direction. "I think a drink'd do me
real
good, Preacher-boy."
Mica felt his body tilt forward as if the whole room had suddenly keeled over
on itself. It was an interesting sensation. Mica giggled as Gina's face drifted
in close. She was smiling… her lips so red… her teeth so white… her fangs so —
"GINA!" Miriam shouted from across the room. "Be
good
!"
Mica slammed back against the booth and instantly felt something wet and
clammy at his crotch. He was afraid to look —
Lord, don't let me have pissed myself
— but when he did it was just as bad.
The rest of his beer was busily soaking into his jeans.
"Aw
…fuck
."
Gina's giggle made him look up. "Now that's some nice language for a Preacher-boy't'be spoutin'. My ol' pappy hear you say things like that, he'd take a hick'ry switch't'your backside."
He just
loved
the way she put things. Brushing the worst of the puddle off his lap, Mica waved at the assistant bartender
— and got a one fingered wave in return.
Shit.
Gina chuckled for no apparent reason.
"So…" Mica said as he shifted his butt to a drier parch of Naugahyde. "How was work?"
Gina stopped chuckling and returned to glaring. "Am I botherin' you?"
" 'Scuse me?"
"I asked if I was botherin' you by just sittin' here mindin' my own business?"
Mica cleared his throat and felt the dryness return. "Well, if you put it that way…"
"That's the onliest way to put it. You're all the time buttin' that Holy-Roller nose of yours into other people's asses. An' if you ain't careful, one o'these days that nose gonna get bit off. Like
that
!"
Gina snapped her fingers and Mica jumped — suddenly very happy he hadn't gotten another beer. He was even
"Screw you, Gyp," Mica said as he lifted out two more bottles. "You probably got mote than beer tonight anyway."
Luci's painting smiled down at him as he turned and walked across the empty room toward the Club's resident jungle beast. He and Gina had never really hit it off, but maybe tonight would be different… maybe tonight she's open up and lower her guard.
Maybe they could finally talk — just talk — about this life, the next and what the hell had been going on in the dressing room all night.
Maybe.
Mica increased the overall voltage on his smile and nodded when Gina finally turned and noticed him standing there. She growled.
Well… maybe not.
But, not being one to be put off by a little show of frayed nerves, Mica set the bottles down and slid into the booth across from her.
"Thought you might like to join me in a nightcap."
Gina ignored the bottle and growled again. This time it sounded as real as the one produced by the MGM lion.
Okay, he thought, I should take the hint and just leave her alone. She doesn't want to talk and she's obviously had a rough night. I should go.
Aw, what the hell.
Smiling, Mica leaned forward and clicked his bottle lightly against hers.
After all, what was the worse thing that could happen to him?
----
CHAPTER 11
"So, how 'bout it? Looks like you could use a nightcap." Mica inched the bottles closer to Gina's hand
— being careful not to get too close to her long, red-lacquered nails. Having seen the results of what those claws were capable of, he wanted to have plenty of room for a quick and strategic retreat if the need arose.
Which it could. In an instant.
He personally knew of at least one Furvert and three hookers who would carry the scars of Gina's
handiwork
to their graves.
She could be a real bitch when she wanted to
, Mica thought,
just like now
.
He had to fight to keep the smile on his face when she twisted around and glared at him. If looks could kill, his ass would be
en brochette
.
"Aw c-c'mon, Gina. A drink'll do you good."
As an example, Mica picked up his bottle and downed half just to get rid of the sudden dryness in his mouth. It didn't help that much.
"Yeah," Gina said, leaning across the table in Mica's direction. "I think a drink'd do me
real
good, Preacher-boy."
Mica felt his body tilt forward as if the whole room had suddenly keeled over
on itself. It was an interesting sensation. Mica giggled as Gina's face drifted
in close. She was smiling… her lips so red… her teeth so white… her fangs so —
"GINA!" Miriam shouted from across the room. "Be
good
!"
Mica slammed back against the booth and instantly felt something wet and
clammy at his crotch. He was afraid to look —
Lord, don't let me have pissed myself
— but when he did it was just as bad.
The rest of his beer was busily soaking into his jeans.
"Aw
…fuck
."
Gina's giggle made him look up. "Now that's some nice language for a Preacher-boy't'be spoutin'. My ol' pappy hear you say things like that, he'd take a hick'ry switch't'your backside."
He just
loved
the way she put things. Brushing the worst of the puddle off his lap, Mica waved at the assistant bartender
— and got a one fingered wave in return.
Shit.
Gina chuckled for no apparent reason.
"So…" Mica said as he shifted his butt to a drier parch of Naugahyde. "How was work?"
Gina stopped chuckling and returned to glaring. "Am I botherin' you?"
" 'Scuse me?"
"I asked if I was botherin' you by just sittin' here mindin' my own business?"
Mica cleared his throat and felt the dryness return. "Well, if you put it that way…"
"That's the onliest way to put it. You're all the time buttin' that Holy-Roller nose of yours into other people's asses. An' if you ain't careful, one o'these days that nose gonna get bit off. Like
that
!"
Gina snapped her fingers and Mica jumped — suddenly very happy he hadn't gotten another beer. He was even
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