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June 27, 2005

Michele: Your Kiss Goes Everywhere

Marta ordered drinks - "Something large and hard" - in a breathless whisper and excused herself to the powder room. The bartender raised his eyebrows at me. “Eh, brunettes,” I explained.

Two minutes later shouts rose from the riff-raff in the bar. Maybe we heard a gunshot, maybe we didn't. I just know that right after the ruckus, Marta was seated next to me, excitement in her eyes.

When they finally found the corpse in the bathroom, we knew our welcome had been worn out. We slipped out the back door, leaving some cash and a lipstick-kissed napkin for the bartender.

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