Crystal's Heart

Chapter Four

"So what happened?" Crystal asked once they were settled on the balcony.

"All right. Now you have to understand that the military isn't the same as civilian life. Things aren't handled quite the same way." Laura was grateful for the shroud of darkness, making it easier for her to tell her story. "Appearance is everything and rumors move through the ranks quicker than you can imagine. I was a senior in high school and my father had just been stationed at West Point about four months before. In the fall they have a formal dance during Homecoming Weekend. My father arranged for me to go with a fourth year cadet named Eugene Watkins."

"Eugene?" Crystal snorted and reached for her cigarettes. "Why would anyone saddle a kid with a name like that?"

"Probably because he was Eugene Watkins the third, grandson of General Eugene Watkins and son of the late Captain Eugene Watkins." "Still a rotten reason to name your kid Eugene."

"Anyway, Cadet Watkins' eg.was only overshadowed by his hormones, especially after having sneaked several sips of whatever liquor he was hiding in his jacket. After spending most of the evening talking about himself, Mister Personality thought he was entitled to more than a few formal dances."

"You mean he tried

?"

"Oh yes, he most certainly tried," Laura said. "We took a walk on the grounds and he did his best to cop a feel. I pushed away from him and began walking back, willing to chalk it up to a bad date with a creep but he refused to give up that easily. He pushed me up against a tree and tried to get his hand under my dress. That's when I screamed and kneed him."

"Good, the bastard deserved it," Crystal said, taking a long drag on her cigarette. "You should have kicked him in the balls." "I wish I had thought of it at the time," Laura admitted. "Kneeing him wasn't enough to get him off of me. He pushed me down on the ground and began pawing at me. Another cadet heard my screams and ran over. If he hadn't been walking around, well we were pretty far away from the rest of the party."

"I suppose because he was the General's grandson he got away with it, right?"

Laura sighed and rested her foot on her opposite knee. "It's not that simple. The Academy is very strict on enforcing the Honor Code." "So what happened?"

"I was pretty upset by the time the cadet brought me inside. We came in the front door and standing right there was my father, General Watkins, and a few other senior officers. Imagine how it looked. There I was, my dress torn in the front with mud and grass stains on the back. My father took me into a private room and I told him what happened. He left and came back a few minutes later to take me home." Looking up at the twinkling stars, Laura let the emotional evening relive itself in her mind. "My father never lied to me, I'll give him that. He told me up front that it was my word against Eugene's and of course you know what his story was."

"That you wanted it," the stripper guessed.

"He said I allowed him to feel me up and when he refused my demands for more that I began screaming."

"Of course," Crystal snorted.

"Dad also told me that General Watkins reminded him that Eugene's father died a hero in Lebanon when Eugene was still in high school." She shook her head, absently identifying the various constellations floating above. "All it would have taken was one call from the General and Dad would have found himself shipped off to Anchorage or even worse."

"So your father made you drop the charges?"

Laura nodded. "There wasn't really much choice. If I pressed a complaint, it would have brought the media down on the academy, General Watkins, and him. Look at what they do to the Kennedys. Imagine if the grandson of a general and son of a war hero was charged with attempted rape?" Resting her elbows on the arms of the chair, she interlaced her fingers. "Dad and the General worked something out behind closed doors. He never told me what happened, only that it was over and I should forget about it. I heard from one of the other cadets that Eugene lost his rank as Battalion Commander and was confined to the grounds but was still allowed to graduate."

"Oh big punishment," Crystal scoffed.

"Actually losing your commission at the academy is a huge black mark. He'll never be on the fast track up the chain of command now. Plus I don't think he'll ever think about touching a girl like that again."

"Why not? He got away with it once, what's to stop him?"

"The other cadets. About a week after the incident, a group of cadets caught Eugene in the shower and I guess they beat him up pretty good. He spent a couple of days in the infirmary but never revealed who was involved."

"Serves him right. I hope they made it so he couldn't use it again."

"Well I don't think they went that far," Laura said, picking up on the anger in the smoke-roughened voice. "I think my father knew who did it but he never told me."

"Were you mad at him for not defending you?"

Was I mad at him? She stared up at the stars again. "At the time I was furious with him because I thought he wasn't on my side. I blamed the Army for him caving in to the General. That's why I accepted a scholarship to Colgate. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized why he did things the way he did."

"I don't get it," Crystal said.

"Jenny told me once that sometimes the only way to win is to compromise. That's what Dad had to do with General Watkins. He may not have gotten Eugene thrown out of the academy but he made sure that his career was all but ruined. Every time he's up for a promotion, he'll be questioned about that incident. With all the fear about sexual harassment and officers taking advantage of female recruits, I don't think he'll ever see a command position."

"And you consider that a win?"

"Yes I do. You don't have to chop a man's hands off just because he steals a loaf of bread. Eugene will still be able to have a career in the Army, it just won't be a cushy one."

"I still think he got off easy," Crystal groused. "They always do. Just 'cause a guy has money or power he can get away with anything." A cigarette was lit. "Ah, who's kidding. Even the drunken slobs think they can get away with copping a feel whenever they want it." Laura again wished for a table candle so she could see the expression that went with the hard tone. "Something happen at work tonight?"

"Nothing that hasn't happened before," the stripper said with a resigned sigh. "Just a job hazard. Some asshole decided to wait outside the side exit for me to come out. I would have been fine if Rick was where he was supposed to be and not still in the hallway shooting the shit with one of the bouncers."

Alarmed, Laura sat up straight. "Did he hurt you? Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I'm fine. I've worked long enough to know how to handle myself with a stupid drunk," she said dismissively.

"But it still bothers you." Laura tried to stifle a yawn but failed. "I'm getting too old for these late nights. The sun will be up in a couple of hours." She waited for a reply and got none. "Well, I suppose it's time to"

"Can you use your computer to find people?" Crystal asked.

"Um , there's places online where you can search for people." I should be used to the way you suddenly change topics, Laura thought to herself. "You thinking of looking for your sister?"

"I dunno, maybe."

"Well, you're welcome to use the computer to try and find her if you want." Forget the candle, I'm buying one of those battery operated lanterns. The seconds ticked by before she received a noncommittal grunt from the blonde. "You know there are companies that will look for people for a fee."

"I know. Three years ago I spent over five hundred dollars looking for her. I didn't know her social security number so there wasn't much they could do." Laura heard the scraping of the chair legs against the wood as Crystal stood up. "I'd just be wasting my money again." Crystal lightly knocked on the table. "I'm tired. Night."

Laura sat there for few minutes after the door shut, listening to the sounds of night. Thinking of her own childhood, she tried to remember what her life was like at fifteen. Images of bicycles, long bull sessions on the telephone, music videos and hanging out at the mall filled her mind. How could she have survived? At fifteen I never would have been able to make it on my own. She shuddered to think what Crystal went through and found herself thinking about her roommate with a new respect. With a yawn, she stood up and went inside.

The computer beckoned her but the bed beckoned more. After removing her clothes, she folded them neatly and put them in the hamper. Avocado silk pajamas were donned and the corner of the blanket neatly turned down before she turned out the light and slipped into bed.

Laura smiled and clicked on the save button. Awake only two hours, already she had managed to get four full pages done. So focused on her writing, she missed the first two rings of the phone. "Not now," she sighed, pushing her wheeled chair over to thee.g.of the bed and picked the phone up off the nightstand. "Hello?"

"Are you speaking to me?"

"Peter?" She used her feet to push her way back to the computer. "Where have you been?"

"Now Laura, just hear me out okay? I know you might be a bit miffed at me"

"Miffed?" She put her foot on thee.g.of her desk and crossed the other one over it. "I think miffed is a rather mild word for it, don't you? Did you know she was the stripper from the Tom Cat Club?"

"Well err um"

"Peter, your ears are turning red. Don't lie to me, I know you too well."

"Laura, when she came into my office it just seemed like divine intervention. You know it's been a while."

"I do not need you to arrange sexual liaisons for me."

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," he said, his high-pitched voice going even higher. "I found her another place. A one bedroom at the other end of the complex. I'll even make the rent the same as what she's paying now."

"You found her

" Laura hesitated. Wasn't this what she had wanted? She couldn't live with a booze swilling, pot smoking, foul mouthed stripper, could she? This was the out she had been looking for, wasn't it?

"Laura?"

"Yeah, I'm still here, Peter. So you found another apartment?"

"It's over near the dumpsters and there's only one bathroom but it should be more than enough for her. I took one seventy-five off the rent. I can use the older appliances and the fact that it hasn't been rented in four months as an excuse to the head office. It'll be perfect, Laura. I promise she'll like it and move out," he said encouragingly. "The carpets have all been cleaned and she could move in as early as this weekend." "Um" Oh damn, what am I thinking? "Peter? Do me a favor and don't mention this to Crystal, okay?"

Stunned silence filled the phone line. "Did I hear you correctly? You don't want her to move out?" look, you said that apartment hasn't been rented in four months, right?"

"Right. People want new rugs and appliances and that unit isn't due for replacements until next year."

"So if things change and the apartment is still open, she could have it at the same price, right?"

"I suppose but I can't hold it. If I can get a tenant in there, I will."

"I understand," she said, feeling more confident that she had made the right decision. "I think things might just work out here after all." "Oh really?" he said, drawing out the last word. "Is your bed actually seeing something other than solo action?"

"Peter Knight, you stop that," she chastised. "Crystal is straight and I'm not interested in straight women. It's just that well, we're getting along, that's all."

"Getting along really well, I'm sure."

"Peter!"

"All right, all right. Are you really sure about this?"

Am I? She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I'm sure."

"And you're not mad at me anymore?"

"I'm not mad at you anymore. So how are things with you and Michael?"

"The usual. He's being a screaming bitch about one thing or another. It's really rather annoying." Laura heard a tsking sound through the phone. "He really just doesn't know when to let something go."

"What did you do this time? Or should I say who?"

"I didn't do anything this time. He just thinks I did."

"Not like he's ever been given any reason to doubt your word, Peter."

"Of course not. Well, not lately."

"Exactly," she said. "So now that I'm not mad at you anymore, when are you and Michael coming over for dinner?"

"How about tonight? He's complaining he doesn't get out enough."

"Is it your night to cook too?"

"

Laughing, Laura shook her head and smiled. "Fine. I don't think Crystal has to leave for work until seven or so. Let's make dinner around five thirty." "Wonderful. Michael will have someone new to complain to about me."

"Are you dieting again?"

"Oh heavens, please. With these thighs? No fettuccine alfredo for me."

"All right. How about lemon chicken?"

"Do you want us to bring anything? Michael just learned how to make this killer spinach soufflé."

"Sounds delicious."

"Splendid. He says I don't appreciate his cooking enough. Casual or semi-formal?"

"Casual please. It's dinner, Peter, not a dinner party."

"Casual it is then. We'll see you and Miss Big Tits around five then."

"Peter, don't you even think of commenting on them around her," she said, knowing all too well that her friend had a habit of pointing out people's prominent features in sometimes less than flattering ways. "She's a bit sensitive."

"Can I help it if she looks like a young Dolly Parton?"

"Peter!"

"All right, all right. No talking about her built in life preservers."

Laura shook her head. "Goodbye Peter."

"Bye."

She hung up the phone and turned her attention back to her writing. It was only a few minutes later that she heard Crystal exit her own room and enter the bathroom. The door shut followed by the telltale click of the lock. Shower time, she guessed, confirmed a minute later by the sound of water running. Deciding she could afford to take a short break, Laura donned her robe and headed downstairs.

The high pitched whine of the hair dryer drowned out all other sound in the modest bathroom. Crystal watched her reflection in the mirror while using the dryer and brush to get her blonde hair to do something other than lay limply against her head and neck. I need a haircut, she thought as one long lock refused to go where it belonged. A pleasant smell wafted beneath the door. Mmm, wonder what she's cooking? Smells good. She gave her hair a few final strokes with the brush before turning the dryer off and unplugging it. The middle drawer of the vanity had been reserved her for belongings and she quickly learned that it included her dryer and curling iron. She dressed in comfortable shorts and a sleeveless shirt, expecting to spend the remainder of the day relaxing before going to work at the club that evening. Slipping her feet into her sandals, she tossed her towel over the shower rod and left the bathroom.

She found Laura in the kitchen removing a tray of crescent rolls from the oven. "Morning."

"Good morning," the writer replied, carefully setting the hot tray on top of the cooling rack. "Actually it's about ten minutes after noontime so good afternoon." She moved the rolls onto a plate. "Inside or out?"

Crystal looked out the sliding glass doors to see an overcast sky. "Inside is good."

"I picked up a pint of fresh blueberries yesterday if you want to have some with your cereal," Laura said as she carried the plate of rolls to the table. "Unless you'd like to share a grapefruit with me?"

Grapefruit? Ugh. "Thanks but I'll stick to my high sugar cereal." She crossed the room and opened the refrigerator, retrieving both the milk and blueberries. "Can you give me a ride over to Dunphy's later so I can pick up my car? It's supposed to be ready."

"Sure. I have to go to the market anyway to pick up some things for dinner. Peter and Michael are coming over tonight." "The guy that rented me the place?"

"And his current boyfriend," Laura said while slicing her grapefruit in half.

Crystal filled a bowl with cereal and headed for the table. "What time are they coming over?"

"Around five. I figured we'd have dinner around five thirty so you'd have time to get ready for work afterwards."

Surprised by the thoughtfulness, Crystal could only stammer out a reply. "Th-that sounds fine. Is Jenny coming?"

"No. On Fridays she has group sessions until nine. She'll be at the game tomorrow."

"Oh, so it's just the four of us?"

"Yes. I thought it would be nice for you to get a chance to meet the boys. Peter is a sweetheart." She spooned a wedge of grapefruit into her mouth. "And Michael will remind you a big teddy bear. He's as gentle as they come but I swear he could bench press a refrigerator." "Sounds like an odd couple."

"They are," Laura laughed. "Well, you've seen Peter. I think he's about five six or so and maybe one fifty on a good day." Crystal nodded in agreement. "Michael is at least six feet and close to three hundred pounds." Another piece of grapefruit disappeared into the writer's mouth. "He's a handyman. He put the shelves in the linen cabinet and in the closet in your room."

"Does he have a brother who's a mechanic?" She pushed the flakes around in the milk. "I can't believe it came to over three hundred dollars to fix it this time. I just put two fifty in less than three months ago."

"I think his brother is a priest."

"Even better. He could give it last rights." She smiled when Laura laughed but inside she was worried. The repairs were becoming more frequent and more expensive. She knew it wouldn't be long before it would be time to look for another car but money only stretched so far and moving took everything she had and then some. Her final bills had arrived for the utilities at the old apartment and there simply was just no money left to put down on another car. She slowly chewed a mouthful of cereal. What am I going to do? It wouldn't be long before Laura would be asking for her half of the current bills. It was going to be a race as it was to make sure the rent money was in on time. Figures payday is two days later.

"So when do you want to go pick up your car?"

"Oh." Laura's question pulled her from her thoughts. "I guess anytime after we eat. Whenever you're ready."

"We can go in about an hour or so. I have to take a shower and get dressed first. I don't think they'd appreciate me walking through the bread isle in my pajamas."

"Someone would like it, I'm sure," she said, using her spoon to chase a berry around in the milk. Catching it, she triumphantly brought it to her mouth. "These are good. You should have some."

"I was thinking of making some homemade muffins for dessert tonight."

"Ooh." Crystal smiled and nodded enthusiastically, her mouth watering at the mere thought. "I love blueberry muffins."

"Then blueberry muffins for dessert it is."

"Great." Pushing her empty bowl away, she reached for her coffee. "So what's for dinner?"

"Lemon chicken with rice pilaf and spinach soufflé."

"Sounds interesting." She looked up to see Laura's hazel eyes smiling back at her.

"Healthy food won't kill you."

"That's what you think. My stomach wouldn't recognize it." She leaned back in her chair, no longer feeling the urge to rush away from the table once the meal was finished. Laura gave her every indication that she was welcome to sit and visit. "Can I ask you something without you thinking I'm stupid?"

"Crystal, you can ask me anything and I don't think you're stupid."

"What's spinach soufflé?"

"Have you ever had spinach?"

"Once in a while at a diner but I never cared for it. It was usually cold by the time I go to it."

"Well when it's soufflé is baked in a way that makes it light and airy. It's really very good." Laura paused. "Michael is bringing it." The one that can bench press a fridge. "Oh. I guess it won't kill me to try it."

"I'll try to put a small amount on your plate."

"Do you want help with dinner?"

"No, I'll handle it. You can keep the boys entertained."

Crystal watched the smirk form on Laura's face and immediately became wary. "Why? What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing. You'll love the boys." The smirk grew wider.

"Laura." She tapped her nails repeatedly on the table for emphasis, secretly enjoying the friendly banter. It reminded her of early mornings with her sister. "Tell me or I'll hide the vacuum cleaner."

"Hide it? You have to find it first. Do you even know where I keep it?"

Whoops, big mistake. Realizing she'd been caught, she gave her roommate a sheepish grin. "I was going to get to it but you keep the place so clean that I didn't see any point."

"Uh huh."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Not a bit," Laura replied with a smile.

"All right. I'm not Susie Homemaker. I just don't think of things like vacuuming or sweeping or stuff like that." No one taught me it and it never seemed to matter. Not like that asshole noticed if the place was clean or not. With memories of her past flooding in, Crystal felt the familiar weight settle upon her shoulders. She looked down at the table. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't hear Laura's voice the first time. "What?"

"I said you're getting better."

"Bullshit. You're right. I have no i.e.where you keep the vacuum or broom or mop or whatever else you need to clean up." Almost two weeks and I haven't even thought about helping her clean the place. "I need a cigarette." Standing up, she quickly crossed the room and opened the door to step onto the deck. Fuck.

The balcony above provided shade from the midday sun as she leaned the back of her head against the wooden clapboards. I can't believe I didn't know where they were. She thought back to her parent's trailer. She knew damn well where the broom was kept in that place. It had been used on her enough times when her mother was in a drunken rage. A firm hand gripped her shoulder and Crystal jumped.

"Sorry," Laura said as she stepped fully onto the deck. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's all right. I just um" Do I dare tell her more? "It's nothing. Never mind." She tried to turn away but found herself unable to resist the gentle pressure of her new friend's hands.

"Crystal, let's sit down and talk for a minute."

Is this going to be good or bad? she wondered, reluctantly taking her seat. I know I'll need a cigarette for this. She lit one and waited for Laura to start.

"I mean what I said in there. You are doing better about helping keep the place clean."

She looked up at Laura. "How?"

"For one, I don't walk into the bathroom to find the towel on the floor and water all around the sink. You aren't leaving your dishes lying around. I find them either in the sink or in the dishwasher. I'd call that an improvement."

"So where do you keep the vacuum and broom?"

"The broom and ironing board are in the little cabinet near the washing machine. The vacuum is in the closet near the stairs." "Oh."

"Let's make a deal, okay? I have a certain way of doing things. That includes cleaning. Let's be honest here, Crystal. You won't clean the way I do and I'd only end up doing it over." Laura leaned back in her chair. "Just pick up after yourself and I'll take care of the general cleaning."

Great, now she thinks I'm a hopeless slob. "Look, if you showed me how you wanted it done" she began.

"Really, don't worry about it. I'm a bit neurotic about keeping the place clean, I know that. My father was big on everything being neat and orderly." "What happened if it wasn't?" Crystal asked.

Laura leaned forward, resting her forearms against the table. "One time I was in a rush to go to the mall with my friends and did a sloppy job with making my bed before I left."

"What happened?"

"He did just what a drill sargent would do. He flipped my mattress. Unfortunately, when he did that he found something I never wanted him to find." Her face took on a look that Crystal couldn't remember seeing there before shame. Laura took a deep breath and continued. "He found some magazines."

"You had porno mags under your bed?"

"Three. Nothing hardcore. Just the ones you can get at the grocery store." The dark haired woman's face blushed slightly at the admission. "I was curious."

"So that's why you're a neat freak? Because your father found your girlie mags?"

"I would have preferred a better way of coming out to him than having him find those."

"Did he flip?" she asked, knowing her father would have beaten her senseless for something like that.

"Flip is a mild word," Laura said. "He sent Bobby to a friend's house and was waiting with Mom when I got home."

"Oh boy."

"He wasn't pleased. I hadn't even done anything yet. Like I said, I was just curious." Laura's face took on a faraway look. "I had to sit there for almost two hours having a talk about sex with my parents."

"Oh man, that had to be awful."

"Yeah, Mom talking about standing and image while Dad paced around the room asking me over and over if it had anything to do with that incident at West Point." She shook her head. "Apparently he was of the school that all lesbians are that way because they've had bad experiences with men. They convinced themselves that it was just a phase I was going through until I moved in with Lisa."

"Was she your first, um"

"Lover?" Laura offered. "Yes. We lived together for about two months after graduation. After that the romance disappeared and she found me impossible to live with. Of course by then there was no denying it to my parents anymore. I think by then they'd accepted it." She leaned back in her chair. "So maybe that's part of why I'm so careful about everything being neat and orderly. Every once in a while Jenny will pull her therapist act on me and she says that's part of it." She turned her head to look at Crystal's watch. "What time is it?"

"Heading for one thirty."

"We'd better get going if we're going to get to the garage and the store and back before the boys get here."

"Oh. Yeah." Secretly Crystal breathed a sigh of relief that the conversation was over. Laura's recounting triggered memories that she'd rather not have had return. Stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray, she followed Laura inside. To her surprise, the table had been cleared. When did you have time

She then remembered that Laura had not followed her outside immediately. Can't let it go for even a minute, can you? she silently asked as she watched Laura head up the stairs. She walked over to the phone and called the garage to make sure her car was ready before going up to her own room to get her wallet and sneakers. Maybe we can stop at the ice cream place on Wilson.

Crystal leaned her elbow against the counter, resting her chin against her hand. "I would never have the patience for that." Laura glanced up from her task, sprinkling seasoning over the chicken breasts. "It's easy enough to follow the recipe." "Too many steps," she said, shifting so both forearms rested on the counter. "I prefer the open 'em up, toss 'em in the nuker and go kinda dinners."

"So I've seen." Laura placed the pan in the oven. "My freezer never saw a TV dinner before you moved in. Your stomach must be made of cast iron."

"I'm used to it. I grew up with TV dinners and frozen pizza."

Laura paused in her wiping of the counter. "You ate that a lot, huh?"

How did we get back to talking about me again? She shrugged. "I guess. Whenever we weren't having macaroni and cheese from a box, that is." Her eyes fell on the open recipe book. Reaching out, she pulled the book closer. "You know, I've seen these on television and at friend's houses but I don't think my mother ever had one." She flipped the page.

"You never cooked something nice for yourself?"

"It was cheaper to buy the pre-made stuff than to buy all the ingredients and make it from scratch." She was saved from further conversation by the doorbell.

"That'll be the boys," Laura said, folding the dishrag and draping it neatly over the faucet.

"I'll get it." Crystal went to the door and looked out the peephole, seeing only the distorted image of the man who rented her the apartment.

"Miss Sheridan!" the balding redhead exclaimed as the door was opened. Before she could react Crystal found herself caught in an enthusiastic hug. Peter stepped back, his hands gently squeezing her upper arms. "It's so good to see you again."

"Um, hi." Surprised by the greeting, it took all of her willpower not to jerk back out of his grasp. She forced a polite smile to her face and subtly stepped out of reach. She turned toward the open doorway and received another shock when she saw the hulking behemoth of a man standing before her. His bulky chest and bulging biceps strained the neatly pressed white shirt. Short blond hair refused to be tamed, cowlicks spiking up on both the back and sides. His rounded face and cheeks made him appear squinty but even so Crystal could easily see the bright blue of his eyes.

"Miss Sheridan, this is Michael.," Peter said sweetly. He took the covered dish out of his lover's hands and walked off to the kitchen.

Crystal found her hand clasped between two larger ones as Peter walked away, leaving her alone with the man easily twice her size. She couldn't decide if he looked more like a wrestler or a bodybuilder. The sheer size of the stranger was enough to get her heart pounding with an old fear and the urge to flee was almost too much. Then the giant opened his mouth.

"I'm pleased to meet you," his said, his voice almost as high as hers. "I'm Michael Swenson, Peter's lover."

"Hi." She tried to reconcile the boyish voice with the grown man standing before her. "Crystal."

"Well it's very nice to meet you, Crystal," he said, every word calming her innate fear. "You'll have to excuse Peter. Manners never were his thing." "Don't start," a voice called from the kitchen. "It's not my fault you don't pay attention."

The blond man tsked and rolled his eyes. "He thinks he tells me things," he whispered conspiratorially. Crystal couldn't help but smirk at his expression. "Four hours ago he tells me we're supposed to bring a soufflé." He sighed and shook his head. "But you don't need to hear about our problems."

"Oh well, um it smells wonderful." That voice just doesn't fit that body, she thought to herself.

"Wait until you taste it."

"Hi Michael," Laura said as she walked into the room, offering her cheek for a perfunctory kiss. "It's good to see you again."

"Always a pleasure. It's nice to get out of the house once in a while," he replied, earning a snort from his lover standing near the entrance to the kitchen. Crystal looked over to see Peter shake his head and stalk off into the kitchen. Michael sat down on the couch, leaning back and crossing his leg over his knee. "I wanted to go to the fair this weekend but he promised his mother I'd fix her porch."

"You'd rather my mother broke her hip falling off those rickety steps?" the red-haired man said as he walked into the room, a cocktail tray with drinks in hand. He looked at Laura and huffed. "I swear he's just so thoughtless sometimes. Here sweetie, club soda with lime." He handed the glass to the writer, then turned his attention to Crystal. "I didn't know what you liked but I figured you for a gin and tonic girl."

Gin? She looked in surprise at Laura, then at her drink. She has booze somewhere? Oh what an idiot I am. Having not seen her roommate drink or seen any bottles lying around, Crystal assumed there was no liquor in the house. So that day I sat here and suffered, you had something here all along? She made a mental note to check out what was really in the cabinets in the kitchen the next time Laura went out. "Thank you." I could use this about now.

Peter took his drink and set the tray with its remaining glass on the coffee table. Laura frowned slightly and handed Michael the drink. "Michael, how difficult would it be to install a light on the upstairs deck?"

The big blonde man shrugged. "It shouldn't be too hard. It's just a clapboard wall on the outside and sheet rock inside, right?" "Right."

"Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours if there's a good place to connect into the wiring. I could probably get it done in an afternoon."

Peter leaned over until his face was next to Laura's. "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you," he said. "I've been waiting five weeks for Mister Fix-It to put up my new bird feeder."

"I hung it up twice," the handyman defended. "Both times you bitched."

"Well how am I supposed to see it from the bedroom window if you hide it under all those leaves?" The redhead straightened and took a small sip of his drink. "Honestly I just don't know what you're thinking sometimes."

"I'm thinking how nice it would be to go somewhere for once and not have you throw a hissy fit."

Peter held his drink close to his chest and tapped his foot on the short carpeting. "Laura, would you join me in the kitchen, please? There's something I want to show you."

"I don't think that line will work on her," Michael said, his youthful voice again drawing Crystal's attention to him. "That only works on guys hanging out at in the park," he continued.

Ooh. Crystal winced. Jeez, he's really pissed.

"He thinks I believe him when he tells me he's going to the gym," the blond man said to her. "Mister Vanity doesn't realize I canceled our membership two months ago."

She leaned forward, lowering her voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "So why haven't you told him?"

"I'm waiting."

"For what?"

His round face puffed up with a smile. "He's just having a fit because I yelled at him for not giving me more notice with the soufflé. He'll get over it in a little while if I stop picking on him." He leaned forward. "I'm saving my trump card until he discovers I scratched the paint on his car backing into a parking space."

Crystal brought the glass to her lips, tasting very little tonic. Few more of these and I won't have to sneak upstairs for a hit, she mused, taking another healthy sip. She realized Michael was still speaking to her. "What?"

"I asked if you wanted to show me the balcony so I can give Laura a better i.e.of how much it would cost to put a light in." "Um" Upstairs? Alone? Rational thought told her that the hulking blond man meant her no harm but she couldn't stop the tensing of her body. Downing the rest of her drink, Crystal struggled to think of an excuse not to go upstairs with him. Fortunately Laura unwittingly came to her rescue.

"Would anyone like some fruit salad?" she asked as she entered the living room.

Perfect. "Sounds great." Crystal stood up quickly. "I'll get it while you show him where you want that light."

"Oh, okay. It's in the green bowl in the fridge."

"Okay." Crystal escaped into the kitchen, finding Peter leaning against the railing on the deck. She found the bowl and was setting it on the counter when he spoke.

"I suppose he told you what a bad guy I am, hmm?" He wagged his finger. "I asked him to make a soufflé. You'd think I asked him to pave the driveway in the middle of August. Oh no, my dear." He reached over and took the spoon from her. "A good rule of thumb Miss Sheridan is to give your guest just a few bites. Appetizer plates should always be small. Don't want to take a chance of ruining anyone's appetite, do we?"

Well excuse me, Martha Stewart, she thought as she watched him resize the portions. The thought of going upstairs for a few hits of pot were dashed when she saw Michael and Laura ascending the stairs. Fuck it, I'll settle for a cigarette and a drink. Looking around, she spotted the bottle of gin on the counter. "Would you like another drink, Mister Knight?"

"Oh please call me Peter, and no thank you." He picked up his half full glass and jiggled it. "The home handyman won't let me have more than a couple of drinks while we're out."

"He's upstairs now," she pointed out, holding the bottle in her hand.

The redhead looked over at the empty living room, then at the stairs before thrusting his glass at her. "Well I suppose there's nothing wrong with topping it off."

"No, nothing at all," she said as she filled his glass.

"Thank you," he said, bringing the drink to his lips. "Ooh, now that has some kick to it, doesn't it?" He took another sip. "You do like to make them strong, Miss Sheridan."

"Crystal and yeah, the stronger the better." She took a healthy swallow or her own drink and headed for the sliding glass door. "I need a smoke." "By all means, Miss, I mean Crystal." He followed her outside. "I see Laura is enforcing her no smoking rule."

"Mm, One of her many rules," the stripper mumbled as she lit her cigarette. "You should be a used car salesman."

Peter laughed nervously. "Well now, I guess I wasn't completely forthcoming about Laura's little quirks."

"No, not exactly," she agreed.

"But you two are getting along splendidly from what I see now," he offered in defense. "Laura likes you."

"Peter you'd better stop talking about me," the writer's voice carried from the upper deck. The balding man's face turned redder than his hair.

"Oh my, what an embarrassing faux pas." In a louder voice he called "I was just commenting on how well you and Miss Sheridan were getting along."

"Uh huh, I know exactly what you were doing," Laura said, leaning over the upper rail. "I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" "Um, the fruit salad is ready," Crystal said before taking a long drag of her cigarette. "And I'm getting hungry."

"All right, we'll be down in a minute."

Crystal's fork carefully avoided all but the grapes and peaches while she listened to Michael ramble on about how to wire a fixture on the upper deck. Peter and Laura were in deep conversation, about what the stripper wasn't sure. Deciding that it had to be more interesting than the benefits of adjustable lighting, Crystal turned her attention to them. Peter was shaking his head in disagreement with something Laura said.

"Well what are they going to do? Decide not to publish your book?"

"They could. Most likely they push it back on the production schedule."

"That means pushing back your checks," Peter said. "Any chance you'll meet the deadline?"

"Even if I sat in front of that computer day and night I wouldn't make it. I can't figure out where to go from here with the characters and the whole trial scene seems awkward at this point." Laura took another bite of her fruit salad and pushed the bowl away, dabbing the corners of her lips with her napkin. "I hate writer's block." The ding of the oven timer ended the conversation. "If you will excuse me," she said as she rose to her feet. "I have to check on dinner."

"I'll help," Crystal offered, not wanting to be stuck alone with the quarreling lovers. She followed Laura into the kitchen.

"Sorry about that," the writer said as she pulled the pan out of the oven. "Sometimes the boys get into a fight and they don't know enough to leave it at home."

"It's all right. At least they're not throwing punches."

"No, they won't get to that point." Laura began transferring the chicken to the serving tray. "At the very worst they'll just not speak to each other. Would you bring the soufflé to the table?"

"Sure." Using the potholders, she picked up the ceramic dish and headed for the deck. The aroma wafted under her nose, making Crystal's mouth water in anticipation. Despite her earlier misgivings, she was now looking forward to her first sampling of the spinach soufflé. She found Peter and Michael staring in different directions when she stepped out onto the deck.

"Oh here, let me help," Michael said, moving a trivet to the center of the table.

"You have to leave room for the entree," Peter huffed, moving the hot plate to the side to make room for the chicken plate. Once she was certain the wrought iron trivet was staying put, Crystal set the dish down. She turned to go help Laura but found the dark haired woman coming through the doorway with the entree in her hands.

"The rice and sauce are still in there," Laura said, jerking her chin in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'll get them." Crystal stepped around her roommate and returned to the kitchen. Scooping the rice from the pot into the bowl, she couldn't resist taking a taste or two. Fortunately Laura had made more than enough.

They sat at the round table on the deck with the women across from each other, Michael on Crystal's left and Peter on her right. "Smells delectable," Peter said enthusiastically as he took the dish from Laura. "I haven't had lemon chicken in ages."

"Well I've never had it but you're right, it does smell good," Crystal said as she reached for the dish.

"Oh no, my dear, allow me," Peter said, setting the plate down on the trivet. He put two pieces on her plate and poured a generous amount of sauce over them. "Trust me, you'll love it."

Love it or hate it, Crystal was determined to put a good face on for her roommate. She waited until everyone had filled their plates before picking up her fork. Deciding the rice pilaf looked safest, she aimed her fork for it.

"You haven't tried the soufflé yet?" Michael asked before her utensil made contact with any food.

"Don't be silly, Michael," Peter admonished. "Of course she's going to try Laura's chicken first. Go ahead my dear, try it." "Actually" she started, looking hesitantly at the green vegetable.

"No, it's okay," Laura said. "You can try the soufflé first if you want to. I don't mind."

"See?" the blond man said impatiently at his lover. "Go on, Crystal. It'll melt in your mouth, I swear."

Six eyes watched as Crystal took a forkful of the puffy dish and brought it to her lips. "Mmm." As Michael had predicted, it did indeed melt in her mouth. "It's good," she mumbled, putting another piece in her mouth.

"I knew you'd love it," the large handyman said, his round face beaming with pride.

"Of course it's delicious," Laura said, shooting Peter a look to forestall any comment.

Crystal lowered her head to hide her smirk at the silent exchange. Encouraged by the soufflé, she picked up her knife and began cutting up the chicken.

"So Laura," Peter said, an almost sinister look coming to his face. "Are you going to the dance next Friday at the community center? I heard from a reliable source that Tina would be there."

"She's too butch for you, Laura," Michael said without looking up from his plate.

"Oh please." Peter leaned back in his chair, the late afternoon sun reflecting off the bald spot on the top of his head. "So she likes body piercings, so what?"

"So I prefer my women not look like pin cushions," Laura replied.

Crystal chewed her chicken slowly, more interested in the conversation than the tangy meat.

"You're too picky," the redhead said. "I've told you that before. Face it, my dear, you're not getting any younger."

"It's my life, I can afford to be picky," Laura protested. "Besides, I'm not going to the dance. I have to stay home and get some writing done." "Are you going to the game tomorrow?" Crystal asked.

"I have to go to the game but I'm not hanging around afterwards." A smile formed on the writer's lips as she looked at the blonde woman's plate. "Looks like you're enjoying the chicken. Either that or you're hungrier than you thought."

"I am enjoying it." Crystal put another forkful in her mouth. "This is really good."

"Yes well our little Miss Taylor is absolutely splendid when it comes to culinary matters." Peter smiled and used his knife to daintily cut his meat. "She'll make a fine wife one of these days."

"Stop it," Laura said, a blush creeping up her neck.

Crystal smiled at her roommate's discomfort, knowing it would be short-lived. The conversation had a way of changing its focus from one person to another.

"You're so cute when you blush," Peter said. "Don't you think so, Crystal?"

"Well, um" She looked down at her plate, dimly noting that only the pilaf remained. Maybe she'll make this again some night. "I don't really "

"Oh, that's right." The redhead laid his hand on Crystal's and squeezed. "I'm sorry, my dear. I keep forgetting that you are on the other side of the fence."

Other side of the oh. "Yeah, well"

"It doesn't matter," Laura said firmly. "Peter, you'd better behave or" She leaned over and whispered in his ear. Crystal watched as he swallowed nervously and nodded. Whatever it is, I bet it's something juicy. Michael simply laughed and helped himself to another helping of chicken.

"Ahem, so

" Peter picked up his fork and held it over his plate. "Did you hear that Michael landed a remodeling contract for that building at the corner of Exchange and State?"

"Where the credit union used to be before the fire?"

"Exactly. They're planning for twenty-five office suites as well as a lounge and lobby." He chewed on a bite of chicken before continuing. "Isn't that right, Michael?"

"Plus all the bathrooms," the blond man replied. "I'll be hiring the subcontractors next week."

"How exciting," Laura said. "How long do you think the job will take?"

"Depends. We're doing the demolition work right now and that will take at least two weeks or more. Once it's gutted I figure no more than three or four months."

"If he makes it three months, we'll make enough to take that trip to Amsterdam that we've been dreaming about."

Crystal's brows raised. After all the bickering and snide comments passed between the men all evening, here Peter was talking about going on a vacation together. How can you be so mad at him earlier and now act like you're the best of couples?

"We can still go if I get the job done in four months, we just can't make that side trip to Munster to see the Blarney Stone." Peter turned toward Crystal. "Laura's heard this story before but I did a genealogy search on my family a few years ago and I learned that my ancestors actually worked as servants for Lord MacCarthy."

"Oh no, not the Knight family history again," Laura groaned playfully. "At least wait until after dessert. Speaking of which " She wiped her lips with her napkin and stood up. "If you would excuse me I have to go inside now and get the muffins in the oven."

Crystal watched as the compulsive woman began clearing the table, stacking dishes and scraping plates. Now why do it right this instant? she wondered. It's not like we need to use the table for something else right this minute. Still a brief pang of guilt was enough to get her in motion, standing up and helping the writer take things into the kitchen.

"The table or the living room?" Peter queried.

"Living room," Laura said before pulling a mixing bowl down from an upper shelf. "We'll be out in a minute." She took the blueberries, eggs, and butter out of the refrigerator. "Do you want to get the muffin pan ready?"

"Oh, sure." Crystal looked at the lower cabinets, trying to guess which one held the cake pans.

"Second one on the left next to the stove."

"Thanks." Kneeling down, she opened the door and peered inside the darkened space. Of course. The square pans were neatly nestled within each other next to an similar stack of rectangular ones. The muffin pans were on the bottom shelf. "Which one?"

"The square nine cup next to the stack of six cuppers."

Finding the correct one, Crystal stood up and set it on the counter. Laura's back was to her, allowing the stripper to watch unobserved as she mixed the milk, eggs, and other ingredients into the bowl. A drop of batter splashed out of the bowl and onto the counter only to find its life short lived as Laura used the dish rag to wipe it up. It happened again as the electric mixer churned its way through the yellow batter and once again Laura immediately wiped away any trace of a mess.

"It would be easier to let it wait until you were done and then clean it all up at once," she observed, knowing it was just a wasted effort. "Haven't you figured out by now that I can't let something like that go, even for a minute?" She carried the bowl over and leaned against the counter next to Crystal. "It's just one of my little quirks like the way you roll your eyes when something irritates you."

"Wha-? I do not."

"You most certainly do," Laura said. "Look, you're doing it right now."

"No one has ever told me I roll my eyes."

Laura moved closer and leaned over so her mouth was near Crystal's ear. "And just how many people have you let get close enough to you to notice something like that?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached over and retrieve the bowl of berries. "Here, you can mix the berries in. Use a wooden spoon and be gentle. You don't want to crush up the berries."

Crystal pushed the eject button and slipped another tape into the player while keeping one eye on the traffic. She was running late and the speed limits were ignored in favor of making up time. The conversation over dessert continued to be a whirlwind of topics and she found herself hard pressed to leave. As it was, she had to go at least twenty miles over the limit most of the way in order to make it to the club in time for opening curtain.

As she pulled her car into the parking lot, a frown crossed her lips. The lot was packed with cars and she knew without looking that the few spaces on the street were filled as well. A glance at the marquee explained why. In black letters against the backlit white plastic was the proud proclamation that the Tom Cat Club was having mud wrestling night. Oh shit. Just what I need. The usual crowd would be replaced by a group of beer guzzling, profanity spewing men who generally couldn't keep themselves from breaking into fights at least three times during the night. Extra bouncers were required on wrestling night after one woman was nearly attacked in the mud pit by a drunk and horny patron several months back. Crystal hated working on such nights. The tips were lower and the sexual harassment was greater. Finding a small spot behind the dumpster, she parked her car and ran to the back door. She had to knock several times before the crash bar was pressed and the door opened.

"Where have you been?" Rick demanded. "You go on in five minutes."

"Traffic," she growled back, pushing past him and walking quickly down the hallway toward the dressing rooms. She almost reached the door when a strong grip on her arm caused her to stop short.

"I need to see you after your first set."

"What about?"

"See me after the set. We don't have time to talk about it now," he said, releasing his hold.

Great, what the fuck did I do now? she though to herself while entering the dressing room. She stopped short when she saw Monica standing in front of the mirror. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Oh thank God you're here. Rick changed the opening number again. We're doing the roller derby queen number first, then the biker chicks one."

"That's ridiculous," she grumbled, stripping down to her G-string and reaching for the spandex outfit. "It takes twice as long to get into the leather outfits than these. We'll need a longer intermission." She tugged the clingy material up her thighs. Damn this is getting tight. Better lay off the muffins.

"I think he's going to have the first wrestling match between our sets."

"Oh no, you're kidding." Crystal paused in the middle of pulling her arm through the sleeve. "Is he nuts?"

"He says he can get two extra matches in this way," Monica shrugged. An angry pounding on the door announced Rick's growing impatience.

"We'll be right there," Crystal yelled, jerking her arm the rest of the way through. She hadn't even stepped on stage and already was dreading the upcoming night.

Crystal had every reason to be uneasy about the night. The announcement of women's mud wrestling had done more than draw the rowdy drinkers. Several tables were filled with members of a local college's fraternity. Peeking out through the curtain on thee.g.of the stage, she saw a sea of red sweatshirts with Greek letters on them, the tables overflowing with beer bottles. Damn. Another look around showed to her dismay that there was only one, not two bouncers standing near the stage. Terrific, just terrific. Why don't we just put up a sign saying "attack the dancers, we don't care." She reached down and tugged on the spandex riding up her crotch. Monica came up behind her. "It doesn't look good, does it?"

"College night," Crystal replied. "I only see Tony working the stage."

"Don't go too close to thee.g.of the stage," the older stripper said. "Those frat boys are a dangerous lot. You'll be three rows back on someone's lap before you know it."

"Rick better keep an eye on things, that's all I can say," Crystal sighed, knowing her work was cut out for her that evening. The manager in question appeared at just that moment.

"Let's go girls. There's paying customers out that that was a good show from you two. Crystal, use the right pole. You're more what those guys on that side want."

Meaning the frat boys asked you to put me on their side of the stage, she though to herself, walking past Monica to stand near the right pole. Rick stepped between the curtains and the crowd quieted down. "The management of the Tom Cat Club would like to welcome you all here this evening for a very special show. Not only do we have six separate matches scheduled throughout the evening" He had to pause as the din turned into shouts of approval. Crystal felt her mood darken as the seconds ticked away. I'm so damn tired of this.

Rick's microphone amplified voice broke into her thoughts. " but we also have the very sexy Crystal Peaks here to entertain you along with the ever popular Monica." At the mention of their names, the strippers reached for the poles, readying themselves for the start of the music and the rising of the curtain. "And so without further ado, let me introduce Crystal Peaks and Monica." The speakers on either side of the stage began blaring a rhythmic beat.

The first thing she noticed when the curtain went up was all the students huddled on the her side of the stage. This isn't going to be good. Picking up her cue from Monica, she made a quick turn around the pole, stopping in front of it to do a shoulder shimmy.

"Aw, stop screwing around and show us those tits!" one of the frat boys shouted. Several of his cohorts yelled in agreement, banging their beer bottles down on the table for emphasis. The result was a massive scramble as foam ran down the bottles and all over the tables. Crystal kept her eye on the flurry of movement, missing a cue and falling out of step to the music.

Dammit. She did some quick double-stepping to get herself back in time with the music. Concentrating on her routine, she danced back and forth half-heartedly trying to entice the men with her body. The bouncer was positioned on Monica's side of the stage, providing no protection for her from the horny fraternity.

"Let's go ladies," another frat boy shouted. "We want tits and we want them now!" His buddies around him took up the chant, pounding their fists on the tables.

"We want tits! We want tits!"

Rick ran across the stage and down the steps to reach the frat boys. Things quieted down quickly after that and Crystal was able to resume her routine. Looking over to Monica, she nodded and listened for the right spot in the music. In synch both women lowered the zippers on their spandex tops, revealing bare skin beneath. Normally Crystal would draw this part out, teasing the audience with what was to come. Tonight however, drawing out the set was not something she had any interest in doing. The jackets were whipped off and tossed behind them on the stage, followed quickly by the spandex pants. Monica moved to thee.g.of the stage, kneeling down before a table of middle-aged men. Dollar bills quickly found themselves wedged under the thin strap of her G-string. The frat boys were hooting and waving bills as well but Crystal didn't want to go anywhere near them, choosing instead to go to the front of the stage and do her shimmy there. The boys howled their disappointment and began pounding the tables again. She looked over to Monica, hoping the older woman would take pity on her and entertain the frat boys but even the extra tip money wasn't enough to get the redheaded stripper to move to Crystal's side of the stage.

Fuck. She knew Rick was somewhere amongst the sea of red-shirted boys and hoped he would be enough to keep them under control. Plastering a fake smile to her lips, Crystal hesitantly went over to them. A beefy guy with his hair buzzed almost completely off leaned over the rail and held a five dollar bill out. Kneeling down in front of him, she shimmied and wiggled, making her breasts wave and bounce. She offered him a hip side of her G-string to slip the bill into but he had other ideas. He hooked his fingers around the string and tugged hard, jerking her off the stage. Crystal fell onto the table, beer bottles wedged against her back. It took a second for the pain of the cigarette against her back to override the painful squeeze of her nipple by the jock's fingers. She kicked and jerked wildly, causing him to pinch the tender flesh. "Son of a bitch!" he screamed when her heeled foot made contact with his ribs.

Focusing more on stopping the burning pain in her back than where her foot landed, Crystal never saw the backhand coming. Hard knuckles and an oversized class ring connected with a resounding slap. "You fucking bitch!"

Strong hands pulled her off the table and away from the drunken man. The lights went up, drowning the room in brightness and the music stopped. Crystal noticed none of it, her eyes closed tight against the reality of what was happening. Voices were shouting, mixing together into a deafening din. Hands were squeezing her shoulders, touching her face. Her left nipple throbbed from the painful pinching, helping blend the past and present together until Crystal found herself unable to distinguish between the two. Visions of her father's face floated behind closed lids until, dizzy from the sensory overload, Crystal let the welcoming darkness take her.

She woke up to find herself laying on the couch in the dressing room. Monica was sitting on a chair at the table, reading a romance novel. Oh God, what happened? she thought to herself, bringing her hand up to rub her eyes. "Ow." She winced at the pain on her face.

"Crys? You awake? God girlfriend, you had us worried. Rick said if you didn't wake up by the end of the next set we'd have to call an ambulance." "That was big of him," she mumbled, carefully touching the tender area on the right side of her mouth. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I heard the commotion but by the time I got over there you were passed out or unconscious or whatever. Rick had them bring you in here. He had to put the wrestlers on early and told them they have to do extra matches." It was then that Crystal noticed Monica was dressed in her street clothes. "You'd think the least the cheap bastard could do is pay me half of the tips I'm going to lose for the rest of the night but no, you know what that son of a bitch does? He tells me if I want to work the rest of the night I have to be one of the wrestlers."

She sat up, inhaling sharply as she did so, the burn stinging. "Yeah I guess I probably do look like a fright now." Even without a mirror she knew her lip was swollen and bloody. "Can you hand me a washcloth or something?"

"Sure girlfriend," Monica replied, grabbing a cloth and heading behind a rack of clothes to get to the small sink. "I guess Mister know-it-all doesn't think I can go on solo." She reappeared from behind the clothes and handed Crystal the wet cloth. "Fuck him. I'll take advantage of having a Friday night off and go home and relax. You gonna be all right?"

"Ow, yeah I'm sure." She pressed the cloth gingerly around her lip, gently wiping the excess blood away. "I'm not spending the next year paying off an emergency room bill for a bloodied lip." Standing up slowly, Crystal walked over to the dressing table and slumped into the chair. "Shit. Looks like someone used me for a punching bag."

"Oh man, Crys, what happened to your back?"

"I landed on a cigarette, I think." She turned in her seat, craning her neck to see the blackened, ash-covered burn. She hissed at the sight of it. "Ooh that looks nasty."

"I think you need to have someone take a look at that," Monica said.

"No. I'll just soak in the tub when I get home. It'll clean it right up." She looked in the mirror to see the redhead's expression. "Don't worry. I've been through worse than this, I promise." I've never had a flashback in the middle of performance before, though, she admitted to herself. "Listen, Mon. Could you do me a favor? Wait until I'm done getting dressed and walk me to my car, will ya?" She cast a glance at the mirror, noting the purpling bruise forming around her left aureole. Other mirrors, other bruises flashed before her mind's eye, making her feel even more unsettled. "Please? I'll only be few minutes."

"Boy, you're really shook up, aren't ya?" Monica asked, setting her purse down on the table. "Of course I'll stay and walk you to your car. Where are you parked?"

"Over by the dumpster. You know they haven't fixed that light yet."

"Of course not. While it's not working they're not paying as much in electricity." She reached into the cubicle reserved and pulled out Crystal's clothes. "Here you go, girlfriend."

"Thanks." She took the shirt and, careful of her injured lip, pulled it down over her head. Next came getting it past her tender breast without rubbing against the cigarette burn on her back. Monica gratefully noticed her predicament and helped her get the shirt on. Crystal pulled her pants and sneakers on, stuffing her socks in her pockets. The noise from the patrons filtered through the wall, reminding her that she was only a few feet from where she'd just been assaulted. "Did Rick throw that guy out?" The pause was enough to give her the answer. "Of course."

"Crys, remember that guy is there with all his buddies. If Rick throws him out the others will leave too."

"Yeah yeah, I've heard it before." She angrily pulled a cigarette out of her pack, bringing it to her lips only to stop and move it to the opposite side. "I'm ready."

They walked out the side entrance and over to where Crystal's car was parked.

"Thanks again, Monica. You sure you don't want a ride to your car?"

"No, I'm right over here." She pointed at the minivan parked several spots down the row. "How long you think it'll be before you can come back?"

"It'll be a few days before the swelling goes down but with makeup, who knows. I'll give you a call." Looking at the brick building, a haze of smoke coming out the screened windows, Crystal felt her stomach churn at the thought of entering it again. Without thought, her right hand came up to cover her injured left breast. She closed her eyes and leaned against her car, hoping the night air would clear her mind.

"You really sure you're okay?" Monica asked.

"Yeah, sorry. Just tired I guess." She opened the car door. "Beep me Monday. I'll let you know what's going on." She stepped into the car and waited until she heard Monica's car door shut before starting her own engine and pulling out of the parking lot.

Crystal drove up the busy main avenue of the city, more than once looking around to make sure her car doors were locked. She didn't turn on the radio, preferring instead the solitude allowed by the silence. Her lip throbbed as did her back and breast, refusing to let her forget what happened that evening. She pulled into the brightly lit parking lot of the liquor store, noting that there were still time before they closed. The need to reach oblivion became stronger with each passing minute. A shortage of cash allowed her only one pint of whiskey but that didn't stop her from opening it the second she returned to the car.

"Dammit." She took another swallow, feeling the booze burning its way down her throat. "Why the fuck does this have to keep happening?" She pounded her heel on the steering wheel. "I'm so tired of this, so fucking tired." The sting of tears burned her eyes but she refused to give in, instead starting the car and squealing tires as she sped out of the parking lot.