Sex in a Sidecar by Phyllis Smallman

out of my hand he announced in a loud voice, “An angel of mercy and the best goddamn bartender in the state of Florida…the whole US of A come to that.”
    Peter took the cooler and tugged at Brian’s shirtsleeve to get him started. “You take care, Sherri! And keep in touch.”
    â€œYou too, Peter.” I pulled the other cooler out from beneath the bar and set my purse on top of it.
    Chris met them at the door and held it open. The sound of the wind moaned through the room and then they were gone.
    Chris stuck his head around the door to the bar and asked, “What should I do?”
    â€œLock the place up and run for cover.” I took the last of the glasses off the bar and set them in the plastic tub for dirty dishes. “Have you told the kitchen staff to go?” I called after Chris who was heading out the door. “Should I do that now?”
    â€œUnless you were planning on sneaking out and leaving them behind.”
    â€œOnly Sara and Miguel are still here.”
    â€œMake sure Sara has a ride,” I told him. “Her mother always brings her in from Pineland. If she doesn’t have a ride, I’ll take her. I’ll tell Miguel on my way out.”
    Chris scampered away, eager now to close the place down like he should have hours ago.
    â€œYou should be going too, Gina,” I said. What was keeping the crazy woman there?
    I wiped the bar down one last time; thinking even as I did it, it was a foolish gesture, the whole thing could be destroyed shortly. Wind and water would be beating on the door in no time. I did it anyway.
    Gina picked up her purse from the barstool beside her and slid to her feet. “Sherri,” she hesitated, started to say something more, then shook her head and walked to the door. But before she got there she turned back and looked at me over her left shoulder. “Would you…” then she went silent.
    â€œWhat?” Impatient to be gone, I was no longer concerned with her problems. “Spit it out girl.” I stuffed the radio into my purse.
    She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and shrugged. “Nothing. See you later.” She yanked her purse up on her shoulder and started out.
    I followed her over to the door and flicked off the slowly turning fans. Now only the moaning lament of the wind filled the room. Even with the restaurant out front to protect us it wailed and howled through the bar. Again the lights flickered. Again they stayed on.
    I stuck my head into the deep gloom of the shuttered restaurant where Chris fussed at the cash register. “I’m going out the back,” I told him. “See you in a few days.” “Yeah,” he replied, not looking up.
    Back in the bar, I gathered up my stuff and looked around, reluctant to leave, although that very morning I’d left the apartment I shared with Clay without a backward glance. “Be safe,” I whispered and killed the lights.

Chapter 14
    The kitchen smelled of bleach. Miguel had emptied the big refrigerators of all perishables and wiped everything down. It was almost a certainty that we would lose power and any food left behind would spoil in the heat and any spills or mold would multiply. Like me, Miguel took good care of the Sunset.
    A lone cardboard box half-filled with fruit and vegetables sat on the counter. He must have already made a couple of trips to his van with food.
    â€œLet’s boogie,” I said. “But don’t take the elevator, the wind could take the hydro at any minute. How’d you like to be stuck in an elevator with a hurricane barreling down on you?”
    He wrapped his thick arms around the box, a mischievous grin spreading across his broad dark face. “Are you going to be with me?”
    â€œDirty old man. Where’s Sara?”
    â€œGone.” He nudged a light switch off with his shoulder.
    â€œHer mom came an hour ago while Mister Chris was trying to decide