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Okay, maybe not everything.
Daisy knocked back her vodka rocks. “We ain’t done yet, neither.”
Off we trooped to the Mustang and Daisy gave Ally more directions. We hit a bar on Colfax, deep on Colfax, in a zone I’d never been to before.
We walked in and I noticed it had a reverse mix race majority, some white faces, predominately black. Regardless of the fact that we weren’t the only white people there, wewerethe only white people there wearing skintight Lycra and enough hair spray to supply the Denver Broncos Cheerleaders for an entire season. This caused somewhat of a sensation and I felt that sensation lifting the hairs on the back of my neck.
Daisy charged through the bar like she owned the joint. She went down a back hall and rapped on a closed door.
An enormous black woman with an afro even bigger than Daisy’s hair (needless to say, it washuge), opened the door, her face like a storm cloud. I sucked in breath and pulled my purse closer, the better to reach my pepper spray. Then the cloud cleared and the woman’s face broke into a bright smile.
“Daisy-girl!” she cried and came into the hall with us, closing the door and enveloping little Daisy in a big hug.
“Shirleen. How’s tricks?” Daisy asked when Shirleen let her go.
“Shit. They’re always shit. You know that,” Shirleen replied, the smile never leaving her face, which I thought was strange considering “tricks” were shit.
“Let me introduce my girls,” Daisy said and performed the introductions.
“Oowee! Looks like you all are paintin’ the town pink to-nite!” Shirleen declared and looked us all over with approving tawny-brown eyes. I had the feeling Shirleen had Ada’s rose-tinted glasses on, or she was prematurely blinding.
“Only way a town should be,” Ally said.
“You gotthatright, sister,” Shirleen noted and we all grinned.
Daisy got down to business. “We’re lookin’ for Ray McAlister. He in there?”
“Ray? Haven’t seen Ray in a coupla days. He got trouble, you know what I mean?” Shirleen replied.
Daisy’s hair nodded, so did mine, Ally’s and Indy’s. We knew what she meant.
“This is his little girl,” Daisy pointed at me.
“Shee-it!” Shirleen squealed and her eyes turned to me, wide, bright and happy. “Been wantin’ to meet you. Everyone’s talkin’ ’bout you. Heard you kneed Fratelli in the balls at a bagel place. Wish I’da been there. You coulda sold tickets to that.”
“It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. He called my boyfriend a wetback,” I explained.
Damn.
NowIwas calling Eddie my boyfriend.
Shirleen’s grin faded and her eyes narrowed.
“Fuckin’ dick,” she said. “Fratelli’s not a big fan of the brothers either.” She turned to Daisy. “Marcus, now, he’s a good man, respects the brothers. ’Bout time he cut Fratelli loose.”
Daisy’s hair nodded again.
“You see Ray, you call me, would you do that Shirleen?” Daisy asked.
“You got it.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “Gotta get back. Go to the bar, tell ’em Shirleen said to set you up.”
“You’re a peach,” Daisy replied.
Shirleen disappeared behind the door. We went to the bar and told the bartender Shirleen set us up. He didn’t quibble and used a heavy hand.
“What now?” Ally asked, sipping her Designated Driver Diet Coke.
“I know of another table, but ain’t no way they’d let me sit it and ain’t no way I’d try. Marcus would have a conniption,” Daisy answered.
