She ran to the waitress’ station and toted up their bills.“We’re in the right,” she heard Cal say.That was good old Cal. He was fighting again... and on the right side. Roxie liked the sound of it. He was fighting like a man. She’d always seen him as one of those shirt-and-tie types who spent all their time and effort trying not to piss anyone off. Cal wore shirts and ties, but there was something in his black and white attitude that gave him a side that would fit in with working people.“If only. “Darn it,” she hissed.When the girl turned toward me, I saw why I was there.She looked twelve, had pantyhose-egg-shaped breasts with dark red half-cherries on top.The girl didn’t have any hair on her body, not even the little ones we all have. The girl had what looked to have duct tape holding eye shields over her eyes. I saw where she had been clawing at it, but someone cut her fingernails too short even to scratch herself.How do I know what to say to her about the place in her head?She was. More

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