Bao, on Revy

Why do I keep letting Two Hands in my bar?

That's the stupidest question I've ever heard, and this city ain't a brain trust, that's for sure. Tell me this, asshole: how am I gonna keep her out?

Hey now! Don't get mad. Don't even start that shit with me. I ain't gonna spare your feelings just 'cause you're a customer. You bought a drink. You got your drink. End of fucking transaction. If you want service with a smile, go upstairs and pay Flora's girls a visit. Me? I don't deal in good feelings, except the kind you get from the bottle.

You want another? Sure, gimme a second.

No, no, I get what you're saying. I do. She starts trouble. She's nothing but trouble. If I had a bad luck charm, her name would be Rebecca Lee. The Yellow Flag burns, and she's got something to do with it every time. She'll be the death of me, that's for sure. Yeah, I know.

And I know what you're probably thinking. You think I got the hots for her. I admit, she ain't hard to look at. Beautiful, even. Crazy eyes like a bitch from hell, but beautiful. Ever seen her do her thing? No? Well, if you can get a front row seat to that show without taking a bullet or twelve for your troubles, do it. That shit will end up in your dreams and your nightmares. Beautiful, sure. But pretty don't cut it with me.

See, it's like this. When Revy comes around, she sits right there, right at the bar. Who's gonna step up here and fuck with me when Two Hands is right fucking there? Every now and then, some dipshit from outta town tries to start with me when Rev's in one of her moods, and I gotta hire a goddamn cleaner for him and his idiot friends after she makes a mess out of their sorry asses. Cleaners cost, sure, but it still saves me big. I ain't gotta waste anything on bouncers that no one in this city will respect with that bitch as my regular.

She saves me big in other ways. Yeah, I'm still talking about Revy. Jesus, can't you handle what you order or what? Keep up here. You wanted to talk.

So back to what I was saying. She saves me big time. I don't pay tribute to none of them Four Heads. Not any little head either. Nothing. Nada. And that's a fucking miracle around here. Time was I worked four days outta seven to pay for "protection". Hell of an overhead, right?

It happened like this: Some Ivans show up one day, Rev's at the bar, and they shake me down. I knew it was coming. Had my dues all ready. They leave with the cash right around the time that Revy orders another bottle, but I ain't got one. It was a bad time around here, back when things weren't all nice with Mr. Chang and Ms. Balalaika. I couldn't make both the money to the Ivans and the cost of re-stocking my bar right then.

I tell this to Revy, and she straight up flips her shit.

I'm like, easy there, crazy lady. If I do good here tonight, I'll reorder tomorrow. Have it in by day after. No worries.

But she flips harder. Like it's the end of the fucking world. Two whole fucking days without a bottle of Bacardi and it's end times nigh to her.

So I'm like, don't blame me, sweetheart. I don't make the rules here. You want to take it up with someone, have a chat with the Ivan Ice Queen.

And she's all, maybe I will.

Then she's out. I don't think of it. She's back two days later for her bottle, all smiles like.

Next week, same deal. I'm getting the money ready, Revy's drinking at the bar, Ivans due any minute. Any minute at all. 'Cept the minutes keep ticking on by. Hour. Two hours. No Ivans. Revy drinking and smiling that psycho killer smile at me.

Finally, I says to her, "What did you do?"

She looks me right in the eye and says, "Fixed it so when I want a bottle, you got no excuse but to give me a fuckin' bottle."

HA!

How did she do it? Oh, hell if I know. But she did. That crazy bitch.

So that's the long story. Revy. Me. This place. She'll be the death of me, but it could be worse, right?

Another drink? Sure, sure. Here ya go. Enjoy.

A/N:Yes, I am aware this isn't that good. I'm getting my ass kicked by postpartum depression. Therapist recommended writing. Ta da. I just wish I could sustain a thought long enough to tell an actual story. Le sigh.