“Don’t look at me when I talk,” a female voice whispered.
Bobbie turned to see a woman on her stomach occupying a float nearby. She had a lean, tan, unmistakably wealthy look about her. Her exotic looks were accented by long, jet black hair floating in water around her. Her dark eyes were focused somewhere past Bobbie.
“Are you talking to me?”
“I said,” the woman hissed, “don’t look at me! Ya’ stupid uh somethin’?”
“No, are you?” Bobbie mumbled.
“Then stop lookin’ at me. The guards’ll see ya’.”
“Then stop talking to me.”
“What are you in for?” the woman asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Jeez, ya’ really are slow, aren’t cha’?
Bobbie turned and glared at her.
“Stop lookin’ at me,” the woman said. “I’m in fuh everythin’, really. The ol’ man says I don’t put out enough, ya’ know?”
“
