You down your Seabreeze in three quick gulps, then slam the empty glass on the bar. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as Melanie raises an eyebrow at you and says, "You in a hurry, sugar?"
You respond a bit too quickly with, "YES! I am!" You look around the room, taking in the scene and relishing its foreignness. You've never been in a biker bar like this. Hell, you've never been to ANY bar, really, and certainly not during the day. A dim notion of what you would be doing at work right now slips through your mind and you smile quietly to yourself.
Melanie asks you, "You like what you're lookin' at sug... OH MY GOD!"
You jump at her outburst and knock over your empty glass. You see that Melanie is looking at the front door of of the bar and you instinctively know what it is she's upset about. You say, "Your boyfriend?"
"My EX-boyfriend, Herbie," she replies. "He's a loser, and he's mean, too." Melanie takes a quick slug of her drink and licks her lips nervously.
You turn to see what this 'Herbie' looks like. He's standing just inside the door, wearing a black leather jacket and black leather pants. He has a 'Don't Mess With Texas' doo-rag wrapped around his large, misshapen head, and sunglasses perched jauntily above a swollen brow. His boots are easily twice the size of the loafers you're wearing and each finger on his over-sized hands seems as big as your wrist. His small, keen eyes scan the room while his fingers trace the outline of the Dixie flag on his belt-buckle. You feel your resolve weaken and you think to yourself that maybe you should start your fighting career with something a little less challenging, something less likely to end in your death.
You turn back toward Melanie and say in a shaky voice, "Oh, you've finished your drink. Are you ready to go?"
"Damn," she replies, looking over your shoulder. You turn to look, too, and find that Herbie is standing directly behind you, eyeing you suspiciously.