I never been much of a lover. Bathtub gin is my life and the skirts aren’t usually impressed by a true moonshiner. They go more for your pin-stripe wearing rum-runner types. Y’see making liquor is a dirty business. I don’t own a suit. I wear coveralls and a cap and I got dirt under my nails. Those fancy guys don’t make their own; they buy it from lugs like me if you want the truth. So yeah, I gotta pay for it. And my first time in Amsterdam at a private house with six girls in front of me is a little intimidatin’. Jesus they all got fancy names like Candy and Simone and Isabella. The lady who runs the place brings them through the little room where I am sitting alone and rattles off names so fast I can’t see straight, like I been drinkin’ my own booze straight outta the tub. I remember one name from the list that comes at me so fast, Anna. Oddly enough it is my mother’s name and I ain’t too sure how to feel about that but by the time that thought crosses my mind I am in a smaller room sitting in an uncomfortable chair waiting for my $180 an hour date. One guy I talked to, Johnny was his name I think, said that if you pay for an hour but finish early, you can sit and talk to the girl until your time is up. It’s been so long I think we might have to do a lotta talkin’ and that makes me more nervous than anything. Be honest, I don’t know much about anything but making rough-and-ready. I can’t imagine a girl in this line of work carries much interest in such things. Unless she’s a drinker herself. That might help things if we have to chat awhile. Looking around the room there’s a glass on the dresser. Wonder if it has liquor in it? Jesus, I can’t stop fidgeting. The voices outside the door make me nervous, a little spit on my hand to slick back my hair and I think I might be ready. I wonder which girl she was in that line? I think she was the third or fourth name called out but I ain’t sure. Maybe it was the one in the red skivvies? She was nice-looking. They all pretty much were so I think I’ll get my money’s worth. And hell, if I finish early maybe I’ll just say my good-byes and be on my way. But damn, it takes me lots of time and lots of tarantula juice to make that kinda dough. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll be like a lotta women I know and never stop talkin’. Gift a gab I’ve heard it called. Well hot damn there she is, Anna. I don’t remember her face from the line-up but at least she don’t look a thing like my mother.

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