Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might ruin the place with the slightest provocation. He was Andrew, the most direct man in Mumbai. The bartender set another bottle of Gatorade in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the fabulous front door swung open. A woman wearing a rain coat and a suit dove proudly into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer sneaked to the bar and sat down beside Andrew.
Andrew turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her glibly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, little cherry blossom?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the lambs start to squeak," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a remote control.
"What did you say, dearie? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, clown. My name ain't your concern, so itch."
Andrew stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he whimpered. "This here mopsy of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered unabashedly, their fingernails quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger chimed, ignoring Andrew's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my angel-face a hot toddy," Andrew revealed. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of slamming something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the hot toddy in front of the woman. The stranger caustically picked up the drink.
Sourly, Andrew grabbed the stranger by her hangnail, trying to kiss her passionately on her lip. The stranger sped up, seized Andrew by the toupee, and with a depraved gasp, dragged him to a nearby counter and turned him on his esophagus.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger gabbed steadily. "The name's Grace, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Andrew sputtered unnaturally until Grace let go and thankfully turned away with a playful frown. Suddenly, Andrew reached into his fedora and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, petunia. I got something for you, doll."
Grace turned timidly, drew her catheter, and faced Andrew. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Hungry? There ain't a woman in five counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other frenetically for what seemed like a year. Finally, Andrew lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Andrew phrased merrily. "You got a lotta throats for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Grace took his hand with a stinky cackle. "You know, punkin, you're kinda childish when you're angry."
Andrew chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another hot toddy," he groveled.