Penny Candy
an excerpt

Outlander's is only a few blocks away from the Cages bar, open twenty – four – seven and catering to people stumbling home from bars or out of strip clubs looking for something fast and cheap to eat. They also have a full bar against the back wall, tended by a wrinkled old woman who always manages to pinch my ass no matter how I try to keep her away from it.
Someone who didn't know it was there might pass right by the front door to the place without ever realizing there was a restaurant behind the cracked, paint – and graffiti – splattered double doors. There used to be a sign above them with the name of the restaurant, but it had been vandalized into oblivion long ago and then taken down by the owners, who had probably meant to put a new one up but had never gotten around to it.
Coker pushes open the doors and holds them open for the rest of us, letting us into a small, dim, windowless space occupied by scarred wooden tables, passed – out drunks, flickering neon signs in the shape of beer bottles and a few mean, elderly waitresses in stained aprons.
I've been in here a few times before, mostly with Coker—I still have too much pride to be caught dead in a place like this alone—and I recognize one of the scowling women as Tillie, one of the owners of the place. Her chapped lips stretch a little when she sees us, exposing the stubby ends of yellowed teeth, and I realize she's smiling at us.
"Tillie!" Coker exclaims, throwing his arms wide to hug the woman. "I missed you. I told you to call me so we could get together!"
I can't decide whether Coker is just using his natural charm to get on the woman's good side, or if he was actually intending to sleep with her. Both are equally possible.
"Hey, sweetie," Tillie says, her smile widening. Her voice sounds like a handful of rocks in a coffee grinder. "Let me clear off a table for you."
And that's what she does: she strides over to a table where a man in a filthy coat is asleep, snoring in his chair, and shakes him by the shoulder, ordering him to pay up and get out. When he doesn't rouse right away, she shoves him out of the chair onto the floor, where he falls into a rumpled heap and snores on. After rolling him a few feet from the table, Tillie gives the surface a cursory brush – off with a rag and then waves us over, smiling her stretchy smile at us. "There y'are, sweetie – pie." She gives Coker a swat on the behind as he sits down, and he blows a kiss at her.
Once Coker's made himself comfortable at the table, the rest of us join him, Pinkie throwing a thinly veiled look of disgust at Tillie as she fusses over us. "Are these your little friends?" She asks, delighted as an old grandmother.
"Yep, there they are," Coker says, grinning. He gestures at each of us in turn, starting with Stripes. "That's Steven, next to him is Cassius, that's Penelope in the horrible jewelry, and there's Nicholas. Say hi, Nicky."
"Hi," Nettle mutters, looking daggers at Coker.
"What can I get for you kids today?" Tillie asks, pencil poised.
Coker sits up. "We'll have a fried onion for all of us, and I want a whiskey on the rocks."
"I'll have the same as him," Stripes says, already in the process of shredding a napkin between his fingers anxiously.
"Can you make me a pink martini?" Pinkie asks, playing with one of her earrings.
Tillie pauses, then shakes her head. "Sorry, honey, but I don't think I can tonight. How about I mix you a fire – belly and pour some grenadine in it?"
"Um," Pinkie says, then shrugs. "Oh – kay, whatever."
"I'll have another fire – belly," I say when Tillie looks at me. "But without the grenadine, please."
Nettle draws himself up haughtily. "I don't suppose you know how to mix a White Snaffle?"
"I do, cutie," Tillie winks, "but I don't think it's the way that you mean."
Reddening, Nettle shrinks down in his seat. "A Roman Candle, then, please."
Chuckling, Tillie bustles off. Immediately, Nettle straightens up again and turns on Coker. "I told you my real name in confidence," he hisses. "Not so you could go around telling it to your geriatric girlfriends."
Coker smiles sweetly at him. "Tillie likes to know people's names," he says. "And she doesn't understand the whole nickname thing. She's old – fashioned."
"I notice you didn't tell her your real name," I pipe up, raising an eyebrow.
"Coker is my real name," Coker says, lifting his chin, then jerks and giggles when Stripes pokes him in the stomach. "Stop it! It is, it's an old family name, I swear."
I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat, crossing my legs. Despite myself, I'm smiling, and have been for the past few minutes. Coker really does know how to show someone a good time.
"Soh, Cassius," Pinkie says, touching my arm, "are you goh – ing to cohme dancing with us? I'll bet you're a really good dancer."
"Easy, Pinkie," Coker warns. "He hasn't had anything to drink yet."
"It's Kaz," I say uncomfortably. "I don't really know yet. I don't like dancing." It takes me a moment to realize how stupid that statement sounds.
"You'd like dancing with me," Pinkie promises in what she probably thinks is a sultry voice.
"Ah, young love," Stripes purrs, putting his arm around Coker. "Were we ever like that, darling?"
"Once," Coker says, after a moment's consideration. "I think I was unconscious."
Nettle makes a harrumphing noise that draws the attention of the entire table and one of the other patrons a few tables away. "Can't all of you stop thinking about sex for one minute?"
Coker giggles. "I think I was unconscious for that one, too."
"I heard Smiley's on suspension again for doing work outside of the bar," Stripes says before Nettle can get any more annoyed.
"What does that mean, 'outside'?" Pinkie blinks her long, stiff eyelashes.
"In the alley."
I look up. "Again? Didn't he just get off another suspension last month?"
Stripes nods. "That was when he kept inviting guys to break the Cage rules," he says. "Telling them they could touch him through the bars if they wanted. I had to set a few guys straight over that one."