Chapter 96

word count 1043

Trudy hit the streets in a disgruntled state of mind, that and quite a bit tipsy. And she had no intention of going home. It would be like giving in, buckling down and saying everyone else was right--that she didn't belong with Buzz, didn't belong with John, that she was unfit to be with anyone. It would mean she should just sit down and shut up! Bull shit! The right guy just hadn't come along yet. None of those others was enough of a man for her anyway, not even Gil, and he was the most romantic one of the bunch.

She'd been walking like a wild woman, a very drunk wild woman, in zig zags and near figure-eights, making it slow-going down Main Street. But as luck would have it, in the process she bumped into the front wall of a bar. Banging into it, in her stupor she turned holding onto the wall for support until she bumped into the main entrance. She glanced at the bar's name, rattled off in bold pink script on a small window on the front door, The Pink Lady. It seemed normal to simply drop in and have a drink. With a hiccup, she fumbled with the door handle, finally making it through. Raucous laughter and male voices hit her in the face as she entered.

Once inside, she stumbled up to the bar and tried to crawl onto a stool, not an easy task for a lady in her condition. It took several tries as she wrestled the thing. Every time she tried to set her butt on the seat, just as quickly she slid off again, grabbing for the bar to catch herself before she hit the floor. Finally, a strong hand held the stool steady and helped her on. She turned to see a handsome stranger.

Tallish, red hair, parted on the side and combed straight, so long it reached his shoulders. The man was well-dressed down to the last detail, color-coordinated, tailored shirt and well-pressed khakis. A gold chain around his neck dazzled and blinded her with its brilliance. Looking at the fellow dressed so splendidly made Trudy feel shabby, the way you feel when you go shopping for pastel spring clothes when you're wearing baggy heavy woolens and winter boots. The man looked that alternatively crisp and wonderful, like a spring day. Offering her a wide smile, his clear, blue eyes sparkled.

"There you go, sweetie!" he said once she'd settled on the chair.

She shot him another glance and next took a quick scan around the room. An all-man crowd filled the place, some dancing with each other to Donna Summer. Either she was more drunk than she thought, or she'd walked into a gay bar.

***

"Geez, Hank! It's a good thing you came when you did! You saved my life again, bro!" Gil was still reeling with the news about Simone. She and Brenda were lovers, and more than likely Simone's chicken paprikash would have packed a deadly wallop. The lady was no doubt out for revenge. It was a good thing he hadn't tasted that chicken, what with being more interested in grabbing the girl and throwing her onto the bed. For once, being obsessed with sex paid off. The lady delivered in that department too well for her own good, distracting him from her deadly purpose. Finding out now about her affair with Brenda surprised him even more than the revenge plot itself. He would never would have guessed she wasn't into their sexual encounters, and in fact, hated him. He shrugged his shoulders on that one. Since when did a lady not want the Gil machine? The precinct was sending a squad car to Simone's right now to take her in for questioning, and to analyze the food.

And now, he was a happy man, back in the car with Hank and Mick, having dodged a bullet and come out of it victorious. Actually, he could have done without Mick in the car. The guy was an idiot at best, although Hank didn't seem to think so. At that moment, a call came in on the radio,..a disturbance at a nearby bar, The Pink Lady, shots fired, a call for back up and an ambulance. Hank gunned it and since they were close, he took off in that direction.

Even as they drove, Hank and Mick spoke to each other in murmured tones, like two friends who had been through life and death situations together, saving each other's lives, bonding like real men do. Hey, wait a minute, Gil thought. That's supposed to be Hank and me, not Hank and Mick. Hank and I are buds, partners. We've saved each other's lives, bonded like real men...what the hell is Hank doing, chumming up with this idiot?

It was all disconcerting, annoying, and Gil wasn't sure what to do about it.

***
Buzz stuffed another bite of apple pie in his mouth and came as close to being orgasmic as any food could inspire. He sat back in the chair and moaned. So delicious! Mrs. Dunn stood by, a smile on her face as wide as Texas.

"Now wouldn't you rather have me and my pie around here than that awful woman? Think how you would miss all this if I were to leave."

Buzz thought about it. Thoughts of sexy Trudy's body loomed in his mind. In his mind's picture, she was her usual drunken self, winking at him and pursing those red lips in a sexy pout, offering anything he wanted because her inhibitions drained out when the alcohol poured in...delicious animal sex, lots of it. And then there was the pie, and the pot roast, and the steaks done to perfection charred in an iron skillet and finished off in the oven, juicy and perfectly medium rare, crusty on the outside and blushing rich pink in the middle, juices flowing. Frankly, there was no contest.

"You're right, Mrs. Dunn!" Buzz said with his mouth stuffed, overflowing and snowing flaky crumbs onto his lips as he spoke. "I don't miss Trudy, but I would sure miss your cooking!"

“And that's just how it should be!” replied Mrs. Dunn.