Bitter Sweets

line everything up first. He gave her a lopsided grin as she walked by and whispered something to his skinny, hunchbacked buddy about, “Fresh tuna swimmin’ upstream.”

    Savannah resisted the instinctive urge to give him a swift karate kick to the groin. That would require bodily contact, and the thought made her shudder.

    Not seeing anyone attending the bar, she walked to the opposite end and sat down on a stool, as far away as possible from Humpty and Dumpty. The wide, ragged cracks in the stool’s vinyl pinched her rear, and when she leaned her elbows on the bar, she found it sticky.

    A speaker, mounted on an “L” bracket over her head, crackled and spit out a “cryin” in my beer over you” country song.

    Starving, Savannah grabbed the nearest bowl of peanuts and began munching on them. She would have preferred the chocolate-covered cashews in her crystal candy dish at home, but a calorie was a calorie.

    At the other end of the bar, Dumpty hitched his belt up over his tractor tire-sized stomach and waggled his tongue obscenely at her. Opening her own mouth wide, she showed him her half-chewed peanuts.

    “Gross,” he said, his libido bubble apparently pricked. Picking up his beer and his change off the bar, he retired to the back corner of the room.

    Reliable old “see” food...works every time, she thought. Experience had taught her that a lot of perverts had weak stomachs. She had often told the women in her self-defense classes that one of the most effective ways to interrupt a rape was to barf on your attacker.

    “Good move,” said a female voice beside her. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

    Turning on her stool, Savannah saw she was no longer alone at this end of the bar. Alan Logan’s description hadn’t been exaggerated at all. She truly was over six feet tall, broadshouldered, and street-rugged.

    From what Alan had said, Savannah had been expecting one of those questionable red shades of hair that was too blue to be real. But Vanessa Whatever-her-name-was had hair the color of a grape-flavored soft drink.

    Savannah might have thought it was a wig, but it was only an inch and a half long and stuck straight out from her scalp. Savannah considered the possibility that she was a platinum blonde who had been dipped, headfirst, in Easter egg dye.

    She wore equally purple jeans that bristled with metal studs and a tee shirt.

    Savannah offered her hand. “Hi, are you Vanessa?” she asked.

    “Yep.” She returned the handshake only briefly across the bar. Her skin was cold, damp, and a little pruned. An occupational hazard, Savannah decided, for someone who spent most of her day handling ice and cold drinks. “What can I get for you?” she asked.

    “A minute of your time?”

    Vanessa’s dark eyes narrowed. Apparently, trust wasn’t one of her greatest personality traits.

    “Time for what?”

    “A girl to girl talk.”

    Vanessa crossed her multibangled arms over the front of her black “Shoreline” tee shirt with its fluorescent purple lettering. “Are you a cop?”

    “Not anymore.”

    “Why not?”

    “They kicked me out.”

    Vanessa’s frown instantly melted, replaced by a grin. That seemed to be all the personal recommendation she needed.

    “If the cops got rid of you, you must be all right,” she said with a conviction that Savannah found a bit frightening. “Who are you looking for?”

    “Earl. Earl Mallock.”

    The arms went back over the front of the tee shirt, the grimace back on the face. “Why?”

    “I just want to talk to him.”

    Vanessa studied her thoughtfully for a moment, then Savannah thought she saw a light of realization switch on in her eyes. “Hey .. . what’s your name, anyway?”
    “Savannah Reid.”

    That did it. Vanessa recognized the name instantly, and Savannah could practically see the purple fuzz bristling on her head.

    “I think you better get outta here. Fast.” Vanessa didn’t bother to lower her voice, and several of the nearby customers stopped talking and perked their ears to listen.

    “Why should 1? After all, your boyfriend came to me. He contacted me first, but then, I guess you know all about that.”

    “I don’t know anything.”

    She was flat-ass lying. Savannah could see it in her eyes.

    She knew at least as much as Savannah knew, and probably a lot more. But she wasn’t going to give up a thing.

    “Earl’s in a lot of trouble,” Savannah said, knowing there was no way to pull