23
At a quarter to three, I met Caden and Rodeo outside Dixie’s. An image of a buxom woman carrying a Confederate flag was painted on the bar’s plate glass window, with stars and bars decorating the name above her. Vehicles sporting pro-g*n, Confederate, and far right-wing political and religious bumper stickers filled the parking lot.
Rodeo guffawed when he saw me. “Holy s**t, girl! Who the hell are you supposed to be?”
I flipped him the one-finger salute. “Pratt’s seen me before. I need to get in close without him recognizing me. My friend Juanita helped me out.”
Caden joined in the laughter at my expense. “You look like that woman from that poster back in the seventies. I forget her name.”
“Farrah Fawcett?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s it. She was on some show, wasn’t she?”
I ignored t
