knee, fingernails digging deeply into muscle. "Al was just telling me about a split-load at the airport he had last night."
"Ah, yes, it was exceptional. Radisson.West Towne Suites. Quality InnWest Towne . And the Holiday Day Inn West. A Holy Grail indeed."
"Hot damn!" Nicole said. "Must've been good for about forty on the side."
"Nearly fifty," I replied. "They tipped well because I am such a brilliant conversationalist."
We returned to the back room, almost reaching the dance floor before a commotion drew our attention.
Even above the volume, the sound was easily apparent. A loud slap of flesh against flesh. A splash. A trio of young men stood before a woman, her hair drenched, her blouse soaked, shock, anger and embarrassment reflected on her face. One of the men held an empty beer pitcher. All three laughed loudly.
It was hard to tell under this queer lighting, but something about the trio looked strange. Their faces almost seemed to glow - bright white like bone. I took a couple quick steps toward them, then felt my arm pulled sharply.
"Al," Nicole said, shouting over the din, "leave it alone. Let the bar take care of it."
I tried to break away, but Nicole pulled harder.
"C'mon, Al. This isn't any of our business. Just leave it alone. Let's get outta here."
"Yeah, let's get the fuck outta here," Maggie shouted. "Goddamned frat boys. Fuckers ruin everything."
Before I knew it, we were standing on the sidewalk just outside the bar. "Dumb ass frat boys," Nicole spat.
"Frat boys?" I asked. "How could you tell?"
"Easy." Nicole's voice shook slightly with anger. "Their perfect hair. Perfect teeth. Designer clothes scuffed up to look like they got 'em at some second-hand store."
"Eugenics gone bad," Maggie said. "Breeding. Christ, men from so-called good families searching other so-called good families for pretty cows to use as breeding stock just to make sure their kids are good looking, which to them means their faces have no distinguishing features."
"Hell, yeah," Nicole said. "Just look at them, the whole way they were acting, like they think they can do anything they want 'cuz daddy's so fucking rich."
"Damn right," Maggie said. "Largest number of sexual assaults inMadison ?Langdon Street . Christ! One of those motherfuckers probably asked her for a blowjob, and when she told them to fuck off, she got a pitcher of beer dumped on her head."
"I hate frat boys," Nicole spat. "Nuke Langdon Streetand the world won't be any worse off. Probably be better."
"We can go someplace else," I interjected.
"Please," Nicole replied. "Anywhere."
"That is satisfactory to me. Where would you like to go?"
"How 'bout the Crystal Corner?" Nicole said. "No frat boys there. Bikers scare 'em off."
"We are there. I rather like theCrystal . Maggie, do you care to join us?"
She shook her head. "Naw. Enough excitement for this girl. I think I'll just go home." She drew her keys and quickly found her car, which was parked within a hundred meters of the Cardinal Bar.
In a few quick moments after watching Maggie depart, we had arrived at the Crystal Corner. After all, the east side establishment was only twelve blocks away from the Capitol, thus making, as the Americans say, bar hopping an easy task because there are so many bars to choose from, all within close proximity.
TheCrystal was fairly crowded, but still provided a much more relaxed atmosphere than the Cardinal, a welcome change indeed. The music was not so loud and much more melodic, even if it was that infernally simplistic rock and roll. The patrons did not dance, instead merely stood or sat with their drinks, conversing calmly with compatriots. The only flurry of movement came from the two bartenders, who rushed to and fro in an attempt to assuage the thirsty throngs crowded along the long, oval-shaped bar.
"Good crowd tonight," Nicole said.
We squeezed our way to the bar, just as Todd saw us and moved our way. "Evening, Count," the cowboy hat-clad bartender said. "What is your pleasure?"
"Just vodka cranberry for the lady," I said, glancing at Nicole, pleased that the fellow had remembered me. She nodded. Ahead, through the arch that separates the two sides of the bar, Kern stood next to one of the pool tables, applying chalk to the shooting end of his stick. He saw us and waved.
"Ah, there is Kern," I said.
"Let's go say hello," Nicole replied. I paid for her drink, then she took the cocktail from Todd and followed me through the crowd.
"Wanna shoot some stick, Count?" Kern asked. He picked up another