Free Seven Years of Bad Luck by J.L. Mac Page B

reading my best friend, I gave a nod signaling my understanding. I waited a three-second count and then casually turned my body a bit to eavesdrop on the two ladies who stood at the bar beside us. That’s when things got interesting. I heard one of the ladies chatting not so quietly to her friend.
    “I guess this place is just full of street walkers tonight.” Her friend giggled annoyingly at her snide comment, then followed up with one of her own.
    “You see these two?” She motioned her head in our direction.
    “I bet these two have slept with at least a half a dozen of the guys in here tonight.” They both laughed like school girls, and I could no longer control myself. In a clear voice I dove head long into a verbal spat with the two grown-ass teenagers.
    And cue former self!
    The old me peeped through my exterior for the second time in a very short period, and I was tickled with the development. I smiled broadly and let loose.
    “Hey Chey, do you hear that? We’re street walkers?” She gave me a wink indicating that she was prepared to play along.
    “Oh! See, I thought we were prostitutes. Is there a difference other than the job title?” I smiled wide when I saw the two women gaping at the show we were putting on.
    “No, not really much difference, Chey. But listen, these two over here seem to think we are terrible street walkers. They only gave us credit for a half a dozen men in here!” I took a casual sip of my cocktail. Cheyenne was Oscar-worthy in her role playing mode.
    “NO!” She mocked a look of being aghast. Her eyes were wide and her mouth formed into an O.
    “We have banged at least thirty or forty of the penises walking around in this joint!” Her instigating joke only further pissed off the two.
    “Exactly my thoughts, Chey.” We both turned and smiled cattily at the two ladies who stood beside us with a look of shock and anger on their snotty faces. I leaned toward them, lowered my voice, and threw out my next card.
    “But don’t worry ladies; if you plan on picking up a guy here tonight, just give us a heads up as to who the unlucky bastards are; that way when they tries to walk away from you two for us, we will send him back your direction… unfucked .” Cheyenne now stood beside me shaking with laughter, and the two women were ready to combust. The one woman who apparently thought that her abundant frame could squeeze into a supermodel size zero decided to put her plump finger in my face.
    “You two are skanks!” Things got even sketchier.
    “I suggest you remove your hand from my face, or we are gonna have problems.” At that point Cheyenne stood slightly behind my outstretched left arm that held her back from pouncing on the bigger one.
    “Fuck you, whore! You think you can just walk in here dressed like that, actin’ all fancy and talk like that to me?” She sent a fine mist of saliva flying out of her mouth when she spoke, and it made my blood boil.
    “I dress how I please, and it is not any fault of mine that you two behave like high school freshmen out of jealousy that another woman can be attractive. God forbid, right? Now, put your fucking finger away!” My voice was teetering on becoming a shout. I still held Cheyenne back.
    Suddenly, some drunken guy came barreling towards me from behind and crashed into both Cheyenne and me. We were both launched forward at the two women. They immediately started slapping, pulling, punching and scratching at us. We had not meant to start a fight, but with the help of the drunken man who sent us charging forward, we were indeed in a fight in a bar.
    Brilliant, Kat! Check ‘bar brawl’ off the bucket list.
    Out of nowhere a large, handsome man with dirty blonde hair and tattoos stepped into the scuffle and peeled all of us apart. Cheyenne was still trying to charge at the two women like a bull when the handsome stranger scooped her up by the waist and dragged her outside over his bulky shoulder. I followed willingly while the