The Shadow hunter

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She had a gun in her purse, and she was ready.

"I hate men," Sheila Rogers said, gulping her daiquiri.

"Know what I mean?"

The dark-haired woman nodded.

"I know."

"They're pigs, is what they are. They use you and throw you away."

"Sure."

"Like, there was this guy I told you about. What we had was really special, and then all of a sudden it's over, and he won't even talk to me."

"That's rough. Really" The dark-haired woman had a name, which she had mentioned earlier when they'd met at the Roxbury, a club down the Strip, but Sheila had already forgotten it. She was no damn good with names.

She wondered why the woman was hanging with her, anyway. They'd been club crawling all night, moving from the Rox to the Viper Room, then to Babylon and the Teaszer, and finally to Lizard Maiden at the west end of Sunset Strip. Along the way, Sheila had imbibed a variety of liquid refreshments, settling on daiquiris as her drink of choice. The alcohol had fuzzed up her brain, and she was vaguely aware that she was talking too much. She couldn't seem to stop.

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