By Marie Hoy-Kenny
The day after Mick dumped her, Liza headed for the bar for the first time since she gave up the hard stuff. She ordered an old fashioned.
The bartender brought it to her, and she slugged it back with a dramatic shudder. “Is it supposed to taste that bad?” she asked.
“I pegged you as more of a sex on the beach type of girl,” the bartender said, running a hand through his rumpled brown hair.
Liza glared at him. Was every guy perverted? Wasn’t there another sweet drink he could have said that didn’t have the word sex in its name?
The bartender cocked his eyebrows. “You ok?”
“Fix me something hard that doesn’t taste like shit.”