Paparazzi reporter Lilian Crum contended her favourite barstool at the Bay Plaza Hotel and lifted her hand in saluting to the bartender. She pulled off her knit hat and hurled it onto the bench.
In the reflector, she saw her brief, even, brown hair standing on edge with fixed electricity. She whirled her eyes and dabbed it back down.
"Hey, Lilian. How're things?" Evan, her special tall, slim, not-bad-looking bartender was constantly interested in her life.
Her shoulders drooped and she crouched forth, laying her elbows on the lengthy wooden bar.
"Not fair. Fetch me the usual, Evan. I desire a dual this time, though."
"Uh-oh. Reaching right up."
She stared as he poured, making sure he offered her as much rum as she wished in her Coke. It sucked to be her at the period. Nevertheless, she realized that Evan would serve up some compassion along with her loved relief foods—rum and pretzels. She dwelled on carbohydrates these days.
