Katie and Diane were so trashed they hopped up on the bar at McGills and danced to “Brown Eyed Girl” even though the jukebox was silent. Eve sang, “Slipping and a sliding,” and Katie and Diane slipped and slid all along the waterfall with you, getting their hips into it, shaking their hair until it covered their faces. At McGills, the guys had thought it was a riot, but twenty minutes later at the Brown, they couldn’t even get through the door.
Diane and Katie had Eve propped up between them at this point, and she was still singing (Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” by this time), which was half the problem, and swaying like a metronome, which was the other half.
So they got the boot even before they could enter the Brown, which meant the only option left in terms of serving three legless East Bucky girls was the Last Drop, a clammy dump in the worst section of the Flats, a horror-show three-block stretch where the scaggiest hookers and johns did their mating dance and any car without an alarm lasted about a minute and a half.
Which is where they were when Roman Fallow showed up with his latest guppy of a girlfriend, Roman liking his women small and blond and big-eyed. Roman’s appearance was good news for the bartenders because Roman tipped somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 percent. Bad news for Katie, though, because Roman was friends with Bobby O’Donnell.
Roman said, “You a tad hammered there, Katie?”
Katie smiled because Roman scared her. Roman scared just about everyone. A good-looking guy, and smart, he could be funny as hell when he felt like it, but man there was a hole in Roman, a complete lack of anything resembling real feeling that hung in his eyes like a vacancy sign.
“I’m a bit buzzed,” she admitted.
That amused Roman. He gave her a short laugh, flashed his perfect teeth, and took a sip of Tanqueray. “A bit buzzed, huh? Yeah, okay, Katie. Let me ask you something,” he said gently. “You think Bobby would like hearing you were making a fucking ass of yourself at McGills tonight? You think he’d like hearing that?”
“No.”
“’Cause I didn’t like hearing it, Katie. You see what I’m saying?”
“Right.”
Roman cupped a hand behind his ear. “What’s that?”
“Right.”
Roman left his hand where it was, leaned into her. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I’ll go home right now,” Katie said.
Roman smiled. “You sure? I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t feel like.”
“No, no. I’ve had enough.”
“Sure, sure. Hey, can I settle your tab?”
“No, no. Thanks, Roman, we already paid cash.”
Roman slung his arm around his bimbo. “Call you a cab?”
Katie almost slipped up and said she’d driven here, but she caught herself. “No, no. This time of night? We’ll flag one down no problem.”
“Yeah, you will. All right then, Katie, we’ll be seeing you.”
Eve and Diane were already at the door, had been, in fact, since they’d first seen Roman.
Out on the sidewalk, Diane said, “Jesus. You think he’ll call Bobby?”
Katie shook her head, though she wasn’t positive. “No. Roman doesn’t deliver bad news. He just takes care of it.” She put her hand over her face for a moment and in the darkness, she felt the alcohol turn to an itchy sludge in her blood and the weight of her aloneness. She’d always felt alone, ever since her mother had died, and her mother had died a long, long time ago.
In the parking lot, Eve threw up, some of it splashing against one of the rear tires of Katie’s blue Toyota. When she was finished, Katie fished some mouthwash from her purse, handed the small bottle to Eve. Eve said, “You going to be okay to drive?”
Katie nodded. “What’s it, fourteen blocks from here? I’ll be fine.”
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Katie said, “Just one more reason to leave. One more reason to get the hell out of this whole shitty neighborhood.”
Diane piped up with a halfhearted
Diane and Katie had Eve propped up between them at this point, and she was still singing (Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” by this time), which was half the problem, and swaying like a metronome, which was the other half.
So they got the boot even before they could enter the Brown, which meant the only option left in terms of serving three legless East Bucky girls was the Last Drop, a clammy dump in the worst section of the Flats, a horror-show three-block stretch where the scaggiest hookers and johns did their mating dance and any car without an alarm lasted about a minute and a half.
Which is where they were when Roman Fallow showed up with his latest guppy of a girlfriend, Roman liking his women small and blond and big-eyed. Roman’s appearance was good news for the bartenders because Roman tipped somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 percent. Bad news for Katie, though, because Roman was friends with Bobby O’Donnell.
Roman said, “You a tad hammered there, Katie?”
Katie smiled because Roman scared her. Roman scared just about everyone. A good-looking guy, and smart, he could be funny as hell when he felt like it, but man there was a hole in Roman, a complete lack of anything resembling real feeling that hung in his eyes like a vacancy sign.
“I’m a bit buzzed,” she admitted.
That amused Roman. He gave her a short laugh, flashed his perfect teeth, and took a sip of Tanqueray. “A bit buzzed, huh? Yeah, okay, Katie. Let me ask you something,” he said gently. “You think Bobby would like hearing you were making a fucking ass of yourself at McGills tonight? You think he’d like hearing that?”
“No.”
“’Cause I didn’t like hearing it, Katie. You see what I’m saying?”
“Right.”
Roman cupped a hand behind his ear. “What’s that?”
“Right.”
Roman left his hand where it was, leaned into her. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I’ll go home right now,” Katie said.
Roman smiled. “You sure? I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t feel like.”
“No, no. I’ve had enough.”
“Sure, sure. Hey, can I settle your tab?”
“No, no. Thanks, Roman, we already paid cash.”
Roman slung his arm around his bimbo. “Call you a cab?”
Katie almost slipped up and said she’d driven here, but she caught herself. “No, no. This time of night? We’ll flag one down no problem.”
“Yeah, you will. All right then, Katie, we’ll be seeing you.”
Eve and Diane were already at the door, had been, in fact, since they’d first seen Roman.
Out on the sidewalk, Diane said, “Jesus. You think he’ll call Bobby?”
Katie shook her head, though she wasn’t positive. “No. Roman doesn’t deliver bad news. He just takes care of it.” She put her hand over her face for a moment and in the darkness, she felt the alcohol turn to an itchy sludge in her blood and the weight of her aloneness. She’d always felt alone, ever since her mother had died, and her mother had died a long, long time ago.
In the parking lot, Eve threw up, some of it splashing against one of the rear tires of Katie’s blue Toyota. When she was finished, Katie fished some mouthwash from her purse, handed the small bottle to Eve. Eve said, “You going to be okay to drive?”
Katie nodded. “What’s it, fourteen blocks from here? I’ll be fine.”
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Katie said, “Just one more reason to leave. One more reason to get the hell out of this whole shitty neighborhood.”
Diane piped up with a halfhearted
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