Beebo laughed. “I always get what I pay for, lover,” she said. Laura refused to look at her, and after a pause Beebo said, “What’s the matter, Laura, ’fraid to look at me?” Laura had to look then. She turned her head slowly, reluctantly. Her face was cold and composed. Beebo chuckled at her. She was handsome, like a young boy of fourteen, with her smooth skin and deep blue eyes. She was leaning on her elbows on the bar, and she looked sly and amused. “Laura’s afraid of me,” she said with a quick grin. “Laura’s not afraid of you or anybody else. Laura thinks you’re a bitch. That’s all.” “That makes two of us.” Under her masklike face Laura found herself troubled by the smile so close to her; the snapping blue eyes. “Where’s your guardian angel tonight?” Beebo said. “I suppose you mean Jack. I don’t know where he is, he doesn’t have to tell me where he goes.” She turned back to the bar. “He’s not my guardian angel. I don’t need one. I’m a big girl now.” “Oh, excuse me. I should have noticed.” Laura’s cheeks prickled with embarrassment. “You only see what you want to see,” she said. “I see what I want to see right now,” Beebo said, and Laura felt her hand on the small of her back. She straightened suddenly. “Go away,” she said sharply. “Leave me alone.” “I can’t.” “Then shut up.” Beebo laughed softly. “What’s the matter, little girl? Hate the world tonight?” Laura wouldn’t answer. “Think that’s going to make it any prettier?” Beebo pushed Laura’s whisky glass toward her with one finger. “I’m having a drink for the hell of it,” Laura said briefly. “If it bothers you, go away. You weren’t invited, anyway.” “Don’t tell me you’re drinking just because you like the taste.” “I don’t mind it.” “You’re unlucky in love, then. Or you just found out you’re gay and you can’t take it. That it?” Laura pursed her lips angrily. “I’m not in love. I never was.” “You mean love is filth and all that crap? Love is dirty?” “I didn’t say that!” Laura turned on her. Beebo shrugged. “You’re a big girl, lover. You said it yourself. Big girls know all about love. So don’t lie to me.” “I didn’t ask you to bother me, Beebo. I don’t want to talk to you. Now scram!” “There she stands at the bar, drinking whisky because it tastes good,” Beebo drawled, gazing toward the ceiling and letting the smoke from a cigarette drift from her mouth. “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.” “Twenty,” Laura snapped. “Excuse me, twenty. Your innocence is getting tedious, lover.” She smiled.