In the summer, the owner of The Drop and my boss, Romeo, allowed the girls to wear black shorts and white T-shirts for our uniform. It was Friday night and with the heat, I was sure we’d be busy. I had just enough time to feed Tigger, my cat, and jump in the shower before I had to leave for work at The Drop, a bar downtown. Gas was too expensive for me to justify driving the luxury car-especially when I sometimes wondered how I was going to pay my rent-so I’d sold it, using the money to buy a used Toyota and what was left to help pay tuition. It had been a gift, a wonderful gift that I’d have been happy to keep, if it hadn’t cost so much to drive it. I thought longingly of the huge Lexus SUV I’d had the brief privilege of driving. The air gusting through the windows was hot but cooled my sweat-dampened skin. I rolled down the windows as I drove to my apartment, waiting for the AC to kick in. The air inside my white Toyota Corolla was stifling and sliding into it felt as though I were climbing into an oven. The backpack I carried didn’t help matters any. It was mid-afternoon, and the humid heat of late June in Indianapolis made perspiration slide down the middle of my back under the thin T-shirt I wore. No one threatened me, stalked me, or stabbed me.Īnd that’s what I kept telling myself as I headed to my car. No one had shot at me in weeks, or beat me up. (And for teaching me that sometimes, the only word that will do is the F-word.) Library of Congress Control Number: 2013911836 No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Turning Point, The Kathleen Turner Series No Turning Back, The Kathleen Turner Series
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