5 Highball Exit by Phyllis Smallman Page A

in the morning until closing time. You can’t get happier than that.
    At the door of the Flamingo a drink-ruined and urine-soaked man held out his hand to Aunt Kay. “Can you spare some change?”
    I stepped in between him and Aunt Kay. “No.” The volume of my voice left him in no doubt about of my feelings.
    We stepped into a dark interior that smelled of unwashed bodies, stale beer and every tub of grease that had been eaten in the place. The three drinkers, strung out along the bar, looked up as the door opened and then went back to staring into their glasses. The flickering fluorescent went unnoticed, the buzzing noise just one more small annoyance in lives made up of a long list of such things.
    The décor was put together from garage sales on the wrong side of town and featured lots of dark faux wood and plastic. The whole place should have been taken back to the dumpster it came from, though I sort of coveted the flashing pink flamingo over the bar.
    The bartender matched the decoration, worn out, cheap and plastic. Her straw-blonde hair was a reminder of a fright wig from Halloween and her deep smoker’s bark almost drowned out the hurtdog-wailing that was passing for music. She leaned on the bar with both tattooed arms locked in front of her. This unfortunate pose exposed the parts of her speckled breasts that her one-size-too-small top wasn’t already showing off. A smiling sun was tattooed on her left breast. It didn’t improve the picture.
    For a brief moment, I wondered if I was looking at my future. I fought down that gruesome thought, not sure if I wanted to live with the answer. There was one ray of sunlight. At least no one could see my tattoo, not even me.
    Aunt Kay didn’t know about bars, didn’t know you should wait for a second at the door to feel out trouble before you make your move. Unaware that you need to get the vibe of the place and carefully pick out who you choose to drink beside, she rumbled right over to the bar and planted herself in front of the tender.
    The bartender looked at Aunt Kay as though she might be peddling bibles. “Whadda you want?” Tips probably weren’t a big part of her income.
    Aunt Kay set her big old purse on the bar. “Are you Sunny?”
    The tender looked to me and then back to Aunt Kay before she gave a quick nod.
    “Well, I just want a word, dear.”
    Before Sunny could say she wasn’t a visitor’s guide, I added, “We’ll have two sodas.” Sunny gave me a searing look. For a heartbeat I thought she was going to point us in the direction of the door, but instead she shoved two glasses into a pan of ice and shot some soda at them. She frowned as she dropped the glass in front of me. There was something about me that turned her right off, but then, I have that affect on a lot of people.
    Aunt Kay gave the bartender one of those sweet smiles that made you want to sit down for warm cookies and cold milk. She picked up the glass Sunny thumped down on the bar with a grateful “Thank you,” like she’d been handed a treasure.
    I edged the glass towards me and stared down at the brownish liquid.
    “Oh, this is just what I need.” Aunt Kay held the sweating glass of soda up to her cheek. “It’s so hot out there.”
    Hadn’t Aunt Kay noticed that it was barely cooler in here? Maybe she was making nice, something I’ve yet to learn. Whatever it was, Aunt Kay was going to get a lot further with Sunny than I ever could. “I hope you can help me with a little problem,” Aunt Kay said.
    Sunny’s mouth twitched, chewing on the words to drive us out the door, but there’s something about Aunt Kay that makes people behave better than they normally would.
    Aunt Kay set down her soda. “You see, dear, my niece, a sweet girl, died last night.”
    Aunt Kay had Sunny’s attention now. She pulled Holly’s picture out of her purse and slid it across the bar. “I want to know why Holly died and I want to know what happened to her little girl.”
    Sunny