Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

  57 - FROM THE MOUTH OF BABY Baby Harmonica bravely fought back tears so she could go on with her story. “Mother was a very famous dancer, and Father was a very rich and respected businessman.   For the first several months of my life we traveled all over together, as Mother and Father felt strongly that I should expose myself to everything the world had to offer. “That’s why, when I was so young, they sent me off for proper training.   They decided I would enroll at Miss Daisy’s, which, as you probably know, was a very prestigious and exclusive school for instructing young girls in the arts of charm and dance.   Girls aggressively competed for admission to Miss Daisy’s, but I was awarded a scholarship.” (I didn’t inform Baby her pride was a little misplaced.   It was our Great-Granny who really packed her off to that dancing school to become an artiste, but I decided it best to save that nugget for later.) “The training was extremely rigorous,” Baby blew her nose on anoth

  58 - BACK TO BUSINESS Slowly I returned to a familiar semblance of consciousness, aroused by the sandpaper tongue of a kitten scraping the end of my nose.   Damn that Owen.   His damn cats was damn near everywhere. “Hey, partner, drink this.” Speak o’ the devil himself. Owen was waiting to hand me a steaming cup of dissolved coffee crystals.   “So?   Didja find that sister of yours?   Who is she, anyhow?   Do I know her?” “Yes.   None of your damn business.   And better than you should.” I scowled up at Owen while pulling myself into a sitting position.   “Ya think I could get to enjoy my morning cup of mud first before ya come at me with a bunch of nosey questions?”   Clearly, I was in no mood.   “People say I ain’t fit to talk to before my first cuppa coffee, ya know.” Owen raised his hands and backed away.   “I’m just trying to look out for our best interests, is all.   Here, have a beer with that coffee.”   He was toting a six-pack.   “This’ll improve your mood wh