"I'll be back, dearie," the woman across from Parr said, sipping her drink, smearing the glass rim in a veined half moon.
She went to serve the girls.
When she came back Parr had brushed away the drink from in front of him.
"Listen, dearie," she said. "You got troubles?"
He grunted.
She snaked an ample hand half across the table and wiggled her shoulders to show off her breasts. "I bet I know what's wrong with you. Same as a lotta men, dearie. Want a little fun, I bet."
"Bring me that blonde," he said hoarsely.
"Listen, dearie, you don't want her. What you want...."
"The blonde!"