Chapter Twenty-seven
Glenn hesitated and Mickey wondered if he was busily formulating a lie. He bought extra time, swallowing rum. “Naw,”he finally answered. “Been workin’ oil rigs as long as I can remember. First the oil fields, then offshore. Hard to meet a woman, leastwise the marrying kind.”
Mickey thought of her own situation. “And harder to keep ‘em, being away so much of the time.”
“I guess...”
Mickey had the urge for another swallow. “So how you make out?”She reached for the bottle. “It must be tough on you– a big healthy guy like yourself, I mean. You pay for some action, when you need it?”
“Geez,”he ran fingers in greasy hair, “broads aren’t supposed to ask.”
Mickey shrugged. “Just curious, I guess. You find ‘em in the bars? Or from the classified ads in those raunchy newsp
