I sucked down the pil s with another gulp of latte. “You mean the ra**st and the loan shark and her Dad being in the hospital after being thrown from a moving car?” The eyes of the customer next to me bugged out of his head.
I ignored him and Indy did too.
She said, “Wel , that al finished up on Friday. You came in on Sunday. Seein’ as you and Hank, um… seem to be, um—”
I interrupted her, “Yeah, and…?”
“Wel , I think Duke’s a little gun shy.”
“Gun shy, hel . Hank is f**ked,” he looked at me. “No offense but you’re gonna run him through the mil , I can tel .
And no doubt, we’l al get ground up with him.” I blinked.
“I’m only in town for a couple of days,” I said.
“I can see it comin’,” Duke said.
“Hal elujah!” Uncle Tex boomed. “No lag this time, keep
‘im hoppin’, darlin’ girl, that’s what I say.” I looked to Indy.
“I think I might throw up,” I told her.
“Hungover?” she asked.
“That too.”
She laughed again but I couldn’t figure out what was so funny.
At that point, Daisy powered in the door wearing a hot pink, velour, skintight, Juicy Couture track suit with the top’s zipper unzipped to what could only be cal ed the Cleavage Danger Zone and a braided terry cloth bandana around her forehead, looking like Dol y Parton halfway morphed into Jackie Stal one, but younger.
“Hey Roxie! Popped by to see if you wanted to do a power walk with me while Tex is working,” she said.
My stomach roiled. “I’m going to get a cheeseburger,” I replied.
Cheeseburgers (with fries) were the only hangover cure I knew that worked. It only lasted fifteen minutes after the last fry was chewed and swal owed, but it was fifteen minutes of nirvana.
Daisy frowned. “Sugar bunch, cheeseburgers kinda defeat the purpose of a power walk.”
How did these people avoid hangovers? They’d al been right with me, drink for drink. It was unreal.
I figured it had to be the altitude.
“Maybe you can power walk to the burger place and back,” Indy suggested.
“Maybe you can power walk to Siberia and stay there,” Duke put in.
I turned and scowled at Duke.
“Shee-it,” he said when he caught my scowl. “Hank is f**ked.”
“Hank’s gonna be f**ked, you ask me,” Daisy giggled and it sounded like tinkling bel s.
“I’ve entered a loony bin,” I told another unwitting customer, this one a female.
“It’s always like that around here,” the customer replied.
“That’s why I come, it’s like walking into a sitcom that could only air on HBO.”