“We seem to have a little problem, sir. We don’t have any money. Can I bring it by tomorrow? What time do you open this fine establishment?” Cady batted her eyes at the bartender, who just scowled.

“Ten o’clock in the morning. There’s a phone on the bar you can use. I run this business to make money. Call someone.” He walked away to Cady’s chagrin, his face bulldog angry.

“I guess I better call my grandmother. She’ll send Anthony with some money. I hate for him to see me like this. Today was supposed to be so wonderful, and here I am in this sleazy bar, half-drunk, with no money.”

“I can call Andy,” Jill volunteered.

“Andy has enough problems. Don’t add this to his list. That leaves Boomer and Pete. Oh, God, I don’t want to call either one of them,” Cady groaned. “Do you have any friends? What about your mother?”

Jill shook her head. “My mother is in Pittsburgh visiting her sister, and my friend is on a business trip. I don’t have many friends, I’m sorry to say.”

“Then we have to come up with something. How about if we run up to the bar and pretend like we’re going to call someone and then blast out of here. That guy’s kind of fat. I think we can outrun him. I’ll come by tomorrow and pay him.”

“You looked kind of wobbly when you came back from the rest room.” Jill eyed the empty bottles on the table. “I don’t think I’m any too steady myself. Hey, if you think it will work, I’m up for it. Jeez, look at him flexing his arm with that serpent tattoo. It looks like it’s slithering. He’s trying to intimidate us.”

“Well, he’s doing a damn fine job of it,” Cady hissed. “Okay, let’s do it.”

The moment the bartender saw the women approaching, he reached for the phone, which was every bit as dirty as his apron, and slid it along the bar. Cady looked at it, knowing she didn’t want to touch it. She reached down and took her sandals off. Jill did the same thing. “On the count of three,” Cady mumbled. “Now!”

Both women blasted through the fly-specked screen door and ran down the street, the bartender and several of his sterling customers giving chase as they whooped and hollered, demanding payment. At the corner of Sycamore and Chestnut avenues, a patrol car skidded to a stop. Cady dropped her sandals and ran as fast as she could, Jill right on her heels.

As she whizzed down the street she stumbled against a mailbox but kept on going, leaving half of her dress behind on a parking meter next to the mailbox. The other half fell away as she continued running.

“You lost your dress. Nice duds, Cady. Faster, they’re gaining on us.” Jill laughed hysterically.

“How’d that happen?” Cady asked, looking down at her bare legs.

“The parking meter next to the mailbox was broken, and the sash of your dress caught on it,” Jill gasped. “I can’t run anymore, Cady. My side hurts.”