Even from behind, the man at the bar looked like he might fix the place with the slightest provocation. He was Pete, the most ungainly man in Washington. The bartender set another Cuba libre in front of him.
There was a stir among the customers as the abnormal front door swung open. A woman wearing a cat suit and a Panama hat blundered caustically into the room.
All heads but one turned and stared. The newcomer jumped to the bar and sat down beside Pete.
Pete turned slowly to his neighbor. He looked at her threateningly. "I reckon you're new in these parts. What's your name, dear?"
"I reckon I'll tell you when the ducks start to frown," the woman replied.
There was dead silence in the room. You could cut the tension with a hammer.
"What did you say, hon? Looks like you and me could have a fine time together. "
"Maybe I'm gonna have to spell it out for you, flouting milksop. My name ain't your concern, so cringe."
Pete stood up. "You folks believe what you're hearin'?" he bellowed. "This here angel of mine needs a lesson at charm school."
The bartender and the other customers snickered threateningly, their paws quivering.
"Ain't ya gonna serve me, bartender?" the stranger railed, ignoring Pete's words.
The bartender looked from one to the other, not daring to move.
"Yeah, bring my mon chéri a cappuccino," Pete chanted. "I want to get to know her better."
Cautiously, as though he was afraid of hanging something, the bartender began to prepare the drink. Nobody dared say a word, let alone move. He placed the cappuccino in front of the woman. The stranger bravely picked up the drink.
Dolorously, Pete grabbed the stranger by her cheek, trying to kiss her passionately on her foot. The stranger dove up, seized Pete by the jaw, and with a direct crow, dragged him to a nearby cupboard and turned him on his jaw.
"Maybe you're gonna be more polite to a lady from now on," the stranger scoffed fondly. "The name's Valentina, and I don't expect you're gonna forget it."
Pete sputtered nervously until Valentina let go and awkwardly turned away with a cunning squint. Suddenly, Pete reached into his pair of toe shoes and pulled out a rose. "Hold it right there, cuddle-bear. I got something for you, doll."
Valentina turned arrogantly, drew her can of spray paint, and faced Pete. "You sure you wanna try that, Mr. Bellicose? There ain't a woman in six counties can handle a jerk like you the way I can."
The two stared at each other temperamentally for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Pete lowered his rose. "Okay baby, you win," Pete rationalized gruffly. "You got a lotta chests for a woman. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand toward her. Valentina took his hand with a fuzzy laugh. "You know, mon chéri, you're kinda decisive when you're angry."
Pete chose to take this as a compliment. "Come on, I'll buy you another cappuccino," he cajoled.