“Well hello, Shade,” Pita Sangria cooed in my ear. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I turned from my double Beam and Hamm’s beer-back on the bar and looked at the stunning, voluptuous, platinum-haired beauty standing next to me.
“Hi, Pita,” I said, trying to remain composed. “What brings a high-class dame to a dive bar like this. The Happy Hour?”
“Ha, good one. You’ve still got your clever, if somewhat uncouth sense of humor.”
“I thought our business was settled. I got the goods on your husband’s infidelity after you seduced me into taking the job. Then you got your settlement and split for Cordoba Cay without a word of goodbye. Or a cent of my fee.”
I downed my drink and signaled the bartender for two more. He brought them and I slid one over to Pita.
“Down the hatch, Doll,” I said and tossed mine back. “So, what do you want?”
Pita took a sip of her drink, winced and slid it over to me. I killed it and signaled for another.
“Benzo and I have reconciled,” Pita said. “However, he’s back to his old ways.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m not getting roped into helping you with that stuff again. You played me for a chump once.”
“No, no. I have no intention of divorcing him again. My life is much too comfortable.”
“Then why come to me?”
“I just remember the times we spent together,” Pita said softly, stroking my forearm. “And I long for some Noir.”
Grey Sparrow Journal 