I sit on the barstool beside Dove and take my glasses off, but she’s too busy hitting her head on the counter to notice me.
“Ignore her,” a deep voice rumbles. The bartender grins at me, shifting the piercing hooked to his full bottom lip. White streaks the edges of his coiffed pale blonde hair. “What can I get for you?”
“Um….I’m still deciding,” I tell him.
“Sure, hon,” he says and goes to serve other customers.
I arc my head to get a better view of the woman beside me. “June?” I say.
Dove stops hitting her head and peers at me from the corner of her eye. “Excuse me?” The bartender passes us a furtive look. “Why do people keep calling me names that are not my name? It’s Dove. D-o-v-e. Got that, b***h?”
Her breath reeks of alcohol, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I’m just curi
