The Max by Jason Starr Ken Bruen

Author:Jason Starr Ken Bruen [Ken Bruen, Jason Starr]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Hard Case Crime
ISBN: 9780857683953
Publisher: Titan Books
Published: 2011-07-05T22:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Dyke City

If there was a dyke scene in Attica, New York, Paula Segal sure as hell was going to find it. She did a couple of lines of coke on the dashboard, made sure her pushup bra was doing its necessary pushing up, and was ready to roll.

She drove to downtown Attica and a good thing she didn’t blink too long or she would’ve missed it. It was the typical small upstate New York town that had been thriving during the time they filmed It’s a Wonderful Life but now it looked like a ghost town, probably the casualty of a nearby Wal-Mart. But the lesbians had to hang out somewhere, right? She drove by a few dilapidated blocks, past the mostly abandoned shops. There were a few bars, but only one getting any business. As she entered, Kiss’ “Rock And Roll All Night” was blasting. She had a feeling this wasn’t a good sign.

The place was crowded, that was the good news. The bad news was the ratio was bad, i.e. there were practically all men. Standing in the doorway, Paula felt the sets of male eyes leering at her desperately, as if she was the first woman they’d seen in years. Jeez, was the whole town of Attica a freaking prison? Did they release them right into the goddamn bars?

One guy grabbed her arm — he looked frighteningly like Sean Penn in Dead Man Walking — and said, “Hey, how about a little dance, honey?”

Like you could dance to Kiss.

She yanked her arm free, hissed, “Fuck you, townie.”

God, men were so fucking gross. Did she actually used to like them or had she gone through the eighteen years of her sexually active life faking it? Eh, whatever, she was just so glad she was through with all of that crap.

The woman working the bar — she wasn’t bad looking. Blond, a little heavy but, hey, Paula liked big girls. The woman looked briefly in Paula’s direction and half-smiled, but Paula couldn’t tell if there was more to it, if it was a come-on or not. As a newbie lesbian, Paula’s gaydar wasn’t fully developed yet. Since she’d, well, turned, she’d accidentally hit on several straight women and she was sure she’d let some hardcore dykes, easy lays, slip through her fingers. She hoped it all averaged out in the end.

Paula sat at the bar and decided to go native, ordered a bottle of Schlitz.

Watching the woman get the drink, Paula eyeballed her ass. Nice. She liked her shoulders, too — they were big and meaty. She had at least a few tattoos, wasn’t wearing makeup, and her hair was cut short, boyish. Looked like a dyke all right.

“Hey, I’m Paula.”

“Bonny,” the woman said.

Paula smiled, said, “Shake your bon-bon, shake your bon-bon.”

Bonny was deadpan. Maybe she didn’t like Ricky Martin?

Trying to loosen her up, Paula said, “It’s kinda guy-heavy here tonight, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bonny said, “but this is the clientele. What’re you gonna do, you know?”

“I know what I’m gonna do,” Paula said.

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