Making the Cut Read Online Free PDF Page A

the bra, and bent over a thousand times in front of him. I tried the naïve schoolgirl act, the innocent religious girl, the I’m an old soul routine, and even sat popping my gum as I twisted my hair in my index finger for countless hours as I batted my eyelashes at him.
    I got absolutely nothing in return.
    After my third year of beating my head against the wall, I learned he was gay.
    Overall, I considered it a win, because he wasn’t technically available. It continued to bother me, as not having him wasn’t an easy loss for me. I even considered trying to make him go straight, but Sloan talked some sense into me. She was right, there was no way I could win that battle.
    “Hey, motherfucker, watch where you’re walking…”
    I turned to face the voice I heard behind me.
    Mr. Rum and Coke.
    At the end of the bar a hallway led to the restrooms. Two men stood at the opening of the hallway. Apparently Rum and Coke had collided with one of the Budweiser twins, and was challenging him on his ability to find the way to his barstool without bumping into him. One thing I didn’t stand for on my shift was fighting. My parents worried about me being a bartender at a bar in a city the size of Wichita, and especially working alone. I didn’t really worry about it at all. I wasn’t big enough to fight men, but I certainly wasn’t afraid to break up a fight.
    Additionally, I had a false sense of security.
    Immediately after taking the job as a bartender, I applied for a concealed weapons permit, took the course, and obtained one. Now, I carried a 9mm Glock in my purse, and I wasn’t afraid to use it if I needed to. Using it to settle a dispute in the bar was out of the question, but I made me feel more secure. Ultimately, if I ever needed it, I had it as an option.
    “You bumped into me ,” the Budweiser twin responded.
    Rum and Coke arched his back and clenched his fist. As he blinked his eyes and stared, probably attempting to clear his mind enough to speak legibly, the second twin slipped off the edge of the stool and stepped beside his double.
    “Oh, you gonna get your buddy to jump in, huh? Well, I tell you what ,” Rum and Coke howled.
    He unclenched his fist and reached for his back pocket.
    You motherfucker, don’t you dare.
    As I stepped toward the end of the bar, and my purse, he pulled a knife from his pocket and began swinging it toward the two men.
    “What the fuck!” the first twin screeched.
    The second twin began stepping backward, away from Rum and Coke. As he slowly stepped rearward, his brother followed, and the knife wielding tattooed idiot was right behind them. I reached for my purse, and rested my hand on the Glock.
    “Put the knife up, sir,” I hollered over the bar.
    Rum and Coke glanced my direction and immediately turned back to face the two men.
    “You fucking bumped me on purpose, you big dumb fuck. Do you know who I am? I’ll fuck you up,” he growled.
    I’m sure you were a bad ass in county jail, but seriously?
    You’re a douche.
    “Sir, put the knife up, come on. Drinks are on the house. Just put up the knife,” I said calmly.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Gin and Tonic and my Hamburger and water come up to the side of the bar to watch the fight.
    Fucking people.
    “Listen. I’m going to guess, and this is just a wild assed guess, that you’re on parole or probation. Put the knife in your pocket and leave, your drink is on me. If you don’t, I’m going to call the cops. They’ll be here in about sixty seconds; the sub-station is all of half a mile from here. You don’t want the cops in here questioning you, do you?”
    He gazed my direction and alternated glances between me and the Budweiser twins. To be honest, I had grown to have minimal respect for cops. Every time I turned around, there was one on the television who had shot someone or choked someone to death for no real reason. Because I’m a cop and it’s within my rights , in my opinion didn’t make it