but you’re not.”
“Believe me, I don’t think I’m better than anybody.”
“You think you’re so high and mighty, telling me what I can and can’t do. Throwing me out of that trashy place like I’m not good enough. But I know who you are!”
The woman’s anger had her reeling and she would have fallen to the sidewalk again if Red hadn’t grabbed for her.
“Don’t touch me!” the drunk screamed, and aimed an angry slap that Red managed to dodge easily.
“Let’s just get you in a cab and get you home,” Red answered, wishing that she’d let Karl handle this.
“I know who you are,” the woman yelled again. “Do you think you’re that far from Piney Woods?”
Red froze.
“You think you’re something, but you’re just a cheap barmaid in a cheaper honky-tonk. I know who you are. I know all about you. You’re just a slutty piece of small-town trash. Did Grayson buy you this place? Hell, at least I did him for free. Of course, he wasn’t my brother.”
In one motion of anger, adrenaline and self-preservation, Red hurled herself at the woman, slamming her against the wall of the building. She shoved her forearm against the woman’s throat, effectively cutting off her ability to speak and most of her ability to breathe. The woman’s eyes were wide now, her expression terrified.
“Kenny Grayson was not my brother,” Red told the woman through clenched teeth. “He is nothing to me. And he never gave me anything. This place, my life, everything I have I got for myself. Do you understand that?”
The woman made a gasping sound as she tried to speak. Failing that, she nodded in agreement.
“Now, there’s a cab coming to get you. You’re going to get in it and go home. Tomorrow, you’re coming back here to get your car. And then you will never come to this bar again. You won’t even drive down this street again. You’re not going to mention my name to anybody. You’re not even going to say it aloud to yourself. Do you understand me?”
The woman nodded furiously.
“You’ve got me all wrong,” Red assured her. “I am not some fragile East Texas flower. I can take care of myself and my own. If you give me one more word of trouble, I’ll sure take care of you. Do you understand my meaning?”
The woman’s eyes were huge as she nodded again. This time Red let her go. They stood on the sidewalk together for a couple of minutes without a word passing between them. Red didn’t even look in her direction.
When the taxi came around the corner, Red said matter-of-factly, “Here’s your ride.”
She walked back into the bar without even making sure that the woman managed to get in the car.
Red went to her perch, but didn’t get up on it. “Cover for me,” she told Karl.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did she give you trouble?”
“I just need to wash the stink of her off my hands,” Red answered.
She made her way through the bar, not bothering to smile or talk to anyone. Outside, she went up the stairs without even a glance toward the crowd or the band.
Once in the apartment, she went straight to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Then, dropping to her knees on the cold tiles, she began to cry.
In the harsh, unflattering light of the tiny bathroom, her brain begged her, Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it! But the onslaught of memories would not be held back.
Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it!
Red couldn’t think of anything else.
“The whole town knows what a little tramp you are,” her mother had screamed at her. “There are men all over town now bragging about doing you.”
“It’s not true. I haven’t done it with anyone but him.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay, then,” she had snarled sarcastically. “You’re not the town whore, just an everyday, ordinary slut. You are trash. Dirty, worthless trash. He used you like a snot rag, just something to wipe his nose. Now he’s thrown you away and laughing about it. The whole
“Believe me, I don’t think I’m better than anybody.”
“You think you’re so high and mighty, telling me what I can and can’t do. Throwing me out of that trashy place like I’m not good enough. But I know who you are!”
The woman’s anger had her reeling and she would have fallen to the sidewalk again if Red hadn’t grabbed for her.
“Don’t touch me!” the drunk screamed, and aimed an angry slap that Red managed to dodge easily.
“Let’s just get you in a cab and get you home,” Red answered, wishing that she’d let Karl handle this.
“I know who you are,” the woman yelled again. “Do you think you’re that far from Piney Woods?”
Red froze.
“You think you’re something, but you’re just a cheap barmaid in a cheaper honky-tonk. I know who you are. I know all about you. You’re just a slutty piece of small-town trash. Did Grayson buy you this place? Hell, at least I did him for free. Of course, he wasn’t my brother.”
In one motion of anger, adrenaline and self-preservation, Red hurled herself at the woman, slamming her against the wall of the building. She shoved her forearm against the woman’s throat, effectively cutting off her ability to speak and most of her ability to breathe. The woman’s eyes were wide now, her expression terrified.
“Kenny Grayson was not my brother,” Red told the woman through clenched teeth. “He is nothing to me. And he never gave me anything. This place, my life, everything I have I got for myself. Do you understand that?”
The woman made a gasping sound as she tried to speak. Failing that, she nodded in agreement.
“Now, there’s a cab coming to get you. You’re going to get in it and go home. Tomorrow, you’re coming back here to get your car. And then you will never come to this bar again. You won’t even drive down this street again. You’re not going to mention my name to anybody. You’re not even going to say it aloud to yourself. Do you understand me?”
The woman nodded furiously.
“You’ve got me all wrong,” Red assured her. “I am not some fragile East Texas flower. I can take care of myself and my own. If you give me one more word of trouble, I’ll sure take care of you. Do you understand my meaning?”
The woman’s eyes were huge as she nodded again. This time Red let her go. They stood on the sidewalk together for a couple of minutes without a word passing between them. Red didn’t even look in her direction.
When the taxi came around the corner, Red said matter-of-factly, “Here’s your ride.”
She walked back into the bar without even making sure that the woman managed to get in the car.
Red went to her perch, but didn’t get up on it. “Cover for me,” she told Karl.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did she give you trouble?”
“I just need to wash the stink of her off my hands,” Red answered.
She made her way through the bar, not bothering to smile or talk to anyone. Outside, she went up the stairs without even a glance toward the crowd or the band.
Once in the apartment, she went straight to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Then, dropping to her knees on the cold tiles, she began to cry.
In the harsh, unflattering light of the tiny bathroom, her brain begged her, Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it! But the onslaught of memories would not be held back.
Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it!
Red couldn’t think of anything else.
“The whole town knows what a little tramp you are,” her mother had screamed at her. “There are men all over town now bragging about doing you.”
“It’s not true. I haven’t done it with anyone but him.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay, then,” she had snarled sarcastically. “You’re not the town whore, just an everyday, ordinary slut. You are trash. Dirty, worthless trash. He used you like a snot rag, just something to wipe his nose. Now he’s thrown you away and laughing about it. The whole
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