As they headed toward the exit, Birdie * appeared. She leaned in, pressed her warm, sequined body against his hip. Whiskey sloshed as the ice in her glass glittered like diamonds. Her other hand pressed his shoulder. Words slipped from her lips, “I’ll talk to my mister.” She kissed his jaw. “Don’t worry, baby,” she whispered, before disappearing back into the smoky room.
~ scene from The Clean Up Man