Chapter Eight - Georgie
For the fifth time, and without meaning to, I lean back a little to catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar.
It’s not easy, only a partial view, blocked by ranked bottles of spirits and liqueurs. Besides, I’ve already checked myself over in the bathroom. I know that my make-up is well applied, my clothes look good and there’s no spinach poking from between my teeth. I started the evening with my hair up, fussing with a complicated knot-work of braids for nearly an hour before I decided it looked just too complicated…
Casual venue…
Trying too hard…
… then spending another twenty minutes with comb and tongs smoothing it all out again. Now it drapes over my shoulders, the glossy black of a raven’s wing, catching highlights from the spots.
The door swings
