190

“Oh, my God! Leila get down!” I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt as Leila dances along the bar top shimmying and singing full pelt into the wireless mic of the karaoke machine. She’s in full rock star mode, strutting her stuff like a coyote ugly wannabe. Sarah is so drunk she’s sprawled over the bar; laughing at my poor attempts to control the wild petite blonde.

“Leave her alone honey, she looks mighty fine up there.” Some sleazy fat man grabs my wrist tugging my arm from Leila’s leg and I recoil in disgust at his touch. His eyes travel up under the dress she borrowed from me to wear and my repulsion grows into something more empowering; seething anger. I elbow him hard in the ribs and stand back with a feisty glare when he comes around at me. “What the hell is wrong with you? Crazy bitch!” He moves in angrily, but my inner anger and psycho switch clicks on, pulling my height up to its full length in readiness, too