Added to Entrapment
"Come on if you're going with me. The ac is calling."
"It's only mid-afternoon. You just want to bend your elbow. If you start now..."
She frowns as she stops talking, watching his back as he threatens silently to leave without her.
"Hang on. I need to gather my laundry."
"You're taking dirty laundry to a motel room without running water?"
Despina doesn't answer. Instead, she brings her cooler full of dirty clothes and situates it in the back of the jeep.
After they get their room at the Blissful Rest, Despina tries to get information out of the desk clerk. Failing, she walks down to YOWH to ask Mickey, whose car is nowhere in sight yet.
Entering, she is very aware of every eye on her. Blinded by the dark at first, she instinctively turns toward the far wall. Deliberately putting her back to the stage, she sits.
"Taking up drinking again?" one familiar face inquires, giving Óscar a nod. Soon, a pitcher of ice water and clean glass are placed in front of her.
Despina feels her face flush with embarrassment. "I didn't come in here to drink and be entertained."
Unnoticed, Paul Peter has approached, "You mean you plan to do your laundry in that pitcher of water?"
"Oh, so you decided to take me up on my offer to manage your jello wrestling career?"
Paul Peter plops down at the next table when the chair he originally headed for is full of her purse.
"I just came to pick the sheriff's brain. I don't want to stay very long."
Ignoring the bar's patrons, Despina asks Óscar when Mickey generally makes an appearance. Before he can answer, the door is slammed back and several tough-looking bikers enter.
The leader stares at Despina, giving her the sort of lewd glance that says he's imagining her naked. One of the other bikers picks up Paul Peter's fresh beer, drains it, then dares Paul Peter to do something about it.
"Set 'em up, barkeep. The lady and I will take doubles of whatever she's drinking," the leader directs, cutting her off as she tries to head for the door. Óscar stiffly hands her the pitcher and a glass, then fills a glass textured like the one Despina has with vodka.
"Straight? I like that in a woman." Tossing back the liquor, he keeps his eye on her while motioning for another.
Despina turns and marches to her table next to Paul Peter, again sitting with her back to the stage. "I think I'll be more comfortable back here. It gives me more room to work." She sets her pitcher down.
Practically breathing down her neck, the leader reaches for it. Despina blocks him, sheltering it with her body. "You're a big boy. Go buy your own."
Leering, he signals Óscar, who slowly prepares another pitcher, of 200 proof vodka. Before he gets it to the leader, his companions pull weapons of odd shapes and sizes, plowing several shots into the ceiling. Several patrons tip their tables over, cowering behind them.
"Back to your seats," roars the leader, intercepting Óscar with his pitcher.
One man hunkered down by the back wall does not sit. Two big bikers grab him by the scruff of his neck and give him a vicious shake, throwing him against the wall. Everyone else empties their pockets as instructed once the weapons turn their way.
When his henchmen have shaken down all the patrons and scooped out the cash register, pocketing their money, drinking their drinks, snatching a few bottles from behind the bar, they head for the door. Nobody raises an objection. Seeing their leader settling in with a pitcher and a woman, one calls, "We'll see you back at the camp grounds."
The bar is quiet as the door closes on the bikers. Despina looks around, noting for the first time the lack of a telephone. Her eyes flit to Paul Peter's.
"Right," he says, pushing his chair back. "I'll go." He heads for the door.
The leader stands, pulling a wicked-looking pistol from his boot top as he rises. "Not until I say so."
"Right. I'll just take a seat," says Paul Peter, carefully easing back into a chair facing toward Despina, who has stood up, one hand on her pitcher.
"Aw, Pina, you really don't want to do that," comments Paul Peter.
Turning to see what she's doing, the leader is faced with a changed woman. A come-hither smile, a shift in her posture, a top button undone. He smiles, returning the gun to its former resting place. Reaching for Despina, he is surprised to suddenly find the table between them.
"You don't want to try that," warns Despina. "The last fellow who grabbed me before I was ready for it ended up lying flat out on the floor, knocked out cold, and had to be carried out by the sheriff and two other men."
A sneer greets this.
"You can ask anyone. Most of these same people were here. You might get hurt."
He starts around the table. Turning to meet him, she raises one hand in warning. "I'm not warmed up yet."
Now that his back is toward the door, one of the regular patrons who has been in the rest room slips out. The door makes an unmistakable clank even though the fellow has tried to be quiet.
Whirling, the leader stares at Paul Peter. "Who was that?"
"No idea. Just someone who wanted to come in. Guess he changed his mind when he saw the mess. Can't say I blame him."
Looking carefully around the room, the leader sees that nobody has moved. Relaxing, he focuses on Despina again. "Well, I reckon I can arrange to warm you up a bit."
Stepping toward him, Despina acts as if she is going o lean on him, but douses him with her ice water instead. Paul Peter snatches the pitcher of vodka instantly, banging him over the head with it. Settling on his shoulders once he drops to the floor, she holds him flat, banging him again with her pitcher when he shows signs of rousing.
A mass exodus leaves even more tables bumped or leaning. Coming around, he begins to buck under her, with her slamming him down repeatedly.
Last updated 9/19/04.