Chelinay Gates

The Red Garter

“I quit!” I pushed the heavy pub doors open with my right shoulder and I turned to eyeball the boss and his dero mates. I flung my right arm out dramatically in Lady Gaga style. “Nobody touches me!” I bellowed, adding a hip wiggle to drive the point home. The bar erupted into boos and catcalls. Flipping my hair back I announced with pride, “I’m a singer! I’m not one of Madame Gardinaire’s girls.” I Stamped my foot in rage...my stiletto snapped! “Re...spect,” I whimpered as I lost my footing and fell, hurtling out of the pub down onto the street below.