"You aren't bad," Gabby answered grimly. "You're spoiled. You're a spoiled, selfish, lazy slut."
As Aimee advanced, she backed away, kicking off her shoes and stripping off her jacket to clear for action. Aimee clawed like an alley cat. Gabby threw up her left arm to defend herself from the tearing nails and cracked Aimee across the face with her right.
Aimee began to scream. She clinched, biting and kicking, and they staggered against the window. Gabby's blouse was torn off. Both women lost their balance and clutched at the drapes. The curtains came down on top of Aimee, pole and all. When she struggled free, she had lost the dressing gown.
She ran into the kitchen. There was a crash and she came charging back, left arm shielding her bosom, the neck of a broken beer bottle in her right fist. Gabby gave ground in terror, dodged a vicious swipe and stumbled back against the window where Aimee cornered her. In desperation she snatched up the five foot curtain pole that had fallen. She delivered a frantic chop that caught Aimee between neck and shoulder and dropped her to her knees. The beer bottle slipped out of her hand and clattered across the floor.
Aimee clawed at Gabby's legs, ripped off her skirt and brought her down to the floor. They rolled across the room, pummeling each other with knees, elbows and hands. When they jammed against the television set, Gabby twisted on top of Aimee, took her blonde hair in both hands and hammered her head against the cabinet. After three punishing blows, she stopped.
"Where's the letter?" she gasped.
Aimee screeched and swore. Gabby pounded her head three times again, and Aimee went limp.
"Where's the letter?"
"Bedroom," Aimee answered faintly.
"Show me."