some special new candy.
“Wow, Scotty,” she said. “I could drink about ten of these babies.”
“Yeah, but you’d be on your ass,” Scotty said. “Shit’s dynamite.”
“I feel like a little dynamite tonight,” she said, and bent to slurp at her straw. He watched her for a moment. Then he grinned.
“Well hell,” he told her. “Rip it up, girl. If you want to party, you come to the right place.”
“Don’t get too far away,” she said. And she turned her eyes back toward the man with the nub. Who was looking at her.
22
I t was quiet at Gigi’s Angels. There were only a few drunks nodding at the bar. All the girls were temporarily off the stage since business had been bad and Moe couldn’t afford to pay them around the clock. Anjalee’s business had been zero. All the firefighters had gone home. It turned out they were spending all their money on Christmas presents. Was she even going to get her mother anything?
She let herself back behind the bar and got a cup of coffee and tilted some bourbon into it, then went back around and got her cigarettes from her purse and lit one. A horn blew outside and one of the drunks stirred and got off his stool, stumbling some, and went toward the door. The horn blew again and the guy paused to get his coat off a rack near the cigarette machine. He went on out and the door slammed after him. Anjalee sipped her coffee. Frankie hadn’t called, and she couldn’t call him. He’d always been funny about his phone number, never would give it to her, told her it wasn’t that kind of relationship. It was beginning to look like it wasn’t any kind of relationship at all. He’d probably found somebody else. She’d been halfway expecting that for a while, so it wouldn’t be any surprise. If that was true, she wouldn’t be getting any more money from him. She thought about that sailor wanting to marry her. He was a nice guy. She should have said yes.
She missed her apartment so badly she didn’t know what to do, but there was no way she could go back there. Even if she hadn’t killed Miss Barbee, she had certainly fucked her up enough to get sent to jail. All her clothes, her shoes. A couple of sweaters she might need in this weather. All her art supplies. She wondered what would become of her things. She guessed when her rent got overdue the landlord would come up and unlock her apartment and haul her stuff out and give it to somebody, maybe the Salvation Army. Then, on second thought, she figured the cheap prick would sell it all and keep the money. He never would come up and fix her leaky sink that was still leaking. Or light her pilot light. Had to call Memphis Light Gas & Water to come over and do that. Cheap prick.
After a while she got up and skipped the coffee and just got more bourbon. She smoked another cigarette and munched a few peanuts left in a bowl. She was hungry. Already she was getting nervous about walking around in daylight. It wasn’t going to be any way to live. But without any money, she couldn’t even go home.
One of the remaining drunks raised his head and said something unintelligible, then dropped his face down on the bar.
And then through the door came Lenny. He saw her immediately and she turned toward him. She liked him because he didn’t give her the creeps like some of Frankie’s asshole buddies. He wasn’t one of those guys who wouldn’t look you in the eye or was always playing around with his dick inside his pants. She’d had a few drinks with him in a bar he and Frankie had been in one night. He’d been nice to her and told her that her dress was pretty. Back when Frankie was giving her enough money to buy some good clothes. Like when she’d gotten that black leather coat that was still upstairs. She needed to go up and get it.
“Well hello, beautiful,” he said, once he’d stopped beside her.
“Hi, Lenny.”
“You want to date me tonight?” he said, didn’t sound like he was kidding.
She looked him
“Wow, Scotty,” she said. “I could drink about ten of these babies.”
“Yeah, but you’d be on your ass,” Scotty said. “Shit’s dynamite.”
“I feel like a little dynamite tonight,” she said, and bent to slurp at her straw. He watched her for a moment. Then he grinned.
“Well hell,” he told her. “Rip it up, girl. If you want to party, you come to the right place.”
“Don’t get too far away,” she said. And she turned her eyes back toward the man with the nub. Who was looking at her.
22
I t was quiet at Gigi’s Angels. There were only a few drunks nodding at the bar. All the girls were temporarily off the stage since business had been bad and Moe couldn’t afford to pay them around the clock. Anjalee’s business had been zero. All the firefighters had gone home. It turned out they were spending all their money on Christmas presents. Was she even going to get her mother anything?
She let herself back behind the bar and got a cup of coffee and tilted some bourbon into it, then went back around and got her cigarettes from her purse and lit one. A horn blew outside and one of the drunks stirred and got off his stool, stumbling some, and went toward the door. The horn blew again and the guy paused to get his coat off a rack near the cigarette machine. He went on out and the door slammed after him. Anjalee sipped her coffee. Frankie hadn’t called, and she couldn’t call him. He’d always been funny about his phone number, never would give it to her, told her it wasn’t that kind of relationship. It was beginning to look like it wasn’t any kind of relationship at all. He’d probably found somebody else. She’d been halfway expecting that for a while, so it wouldn’t be any surprise. If that was true, she wouldn’t be getting any more money from him. She thought about that sailor wanting to marry her. He was a nice guy. She should have said yes.
She missed her apartment so badly she didn’t know what to do, but there was no way she could go back there. Even if she hadn’t killed Miss Barbee, she had certainly fucked her up enough to get sent to jail. All her clothes, her shoes. A couple of sweaters she might need in this weather. All her art supplies. She wondered what would become of her things. She guessed when her rent got overdue the landlord would come up and unlock her apartment and haul her stuff out and give it to somebody, maybe the Salvation Army. Then, on second thought, she figured the cheap prick would sell it all and keep the money. He never would come up and fix her leaky sink that was still leaking. Or light her pilot light. Had to call Memphis Light Gas & Water to come over and do that. Cheap prick.
After a while she got up and skipped the coffee and just got more bourbon. She smoked another cigarette and munched a few peanuts left in a bowl. She was hungry. Already she was getting nervous about walking around in daylight. It wasn’t going to be any way to live. But without any money, she couldn’t even go home.
One of the remaining drunks raised his head and said something unintelligible, then dropped his face down on the bar.
And then through the door came Lenny. He saw her immediately and she turned toward him. She liked him because he didn’t give her the creeps like some of Frankie’s asshole buddies. He wasn’t one of those guys who wouldn’t look you in the eye or was always playing around with his dick inside his pants. She’d had a few drinks with him in a bar he and Frankie had been in one night. He’d been nice to her and told her that her dress was pretty. Back when Frankie was giving her enough money to buy some good clothes. Like when she’d gotten that black leather coat that was still upstairs. She needed to go up and get it.
“Well hello, beautiful,” he said, once he’d stopped beside her.
“Hi, Lenny.”
“You want to date me tonight?” he said, didn’t sound like he was kidding.
She looked him
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