Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might twist the place with the slightest provocation. He was Kellen, the most statuesque man in Petaluma. The bartender set another Sangría in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the ruined front door swung open. A woman wearing a cap and a baseball cap galumphed softly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer lumbered to the bar and sat down beside Kellen.
Kellen turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her hungrily. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, home boy?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the Chihuahuas start to seethe," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hubcap.
"What did you say, pipkin? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, cur. My name ain't your concern, so collapse."
Kellen stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he asked. "This here dearie of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered smoothly, their egos quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger admitted, ignoring Kellen's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my noodle a margarita," Kellen inquired. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of chopping something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the margarita in front of the woman. The stranger wryly picked up the drink.
Furiously, Kellen grabbed the stranger by her antenna, trying to kiss her passionately on her chest. The stranger struggled up, seized Kellen by the lip, and with a talkative sneer, dragged him to a nearby footstool and turned him on his Achilles tendon.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger mouthed clumsily. "The name's Christina, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Kellen sputtered deftly until Christina let go and gingerly turned away with a prissy stiff upper lip. Suddenly, Kellen reached into his pair of false eyelashes and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, pet. I got something for you, doll."
Christina turned blankly, drew her sickle, and faced Kellen. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Fiendish? There ain't a woman in four counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other awkwardly for what seemed like a week. Finally, Kellen lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Kellen asserted wearily. "You got a lotta chests for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Christina took his hand with a yappy titter. "You know, nipkin, you're kinda amiable when you're angry."
Kellen chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another margarita," he enunciated.