I take a seat on a bar stool. The same bartender is there, polishing glasses with a worn cloth. She's wearing a red minidress so tight that her butt looks like it's trying to escape. Ditto her gigantic breasts.
"What'll you have?" she demands.
"Hi, Layla. Don't worry. I'm not going to order my usual."
"What's your usual?"
"You know, what I had the last time I was here."
She shakes his head. "Nope. Your face doesn't ring a bell. So, what'll you have?"
"What do you mean, my face doesn't ring a bell? How could you have forgotten me? Your bar changed my life."
"If I had a nickel for every time somebody's said this bar has changed their life, I'd have five cents," she says.
I blink. "But that means you would have only heard it once," I say.
"Exactly. What'll you have?"
"Actually, I di
