QUEENIE BABY: On Assignment Read Online Free PDF

to the man, Queenie Baby! My days might be numbered. Could be your last chance,” he said with a sniff.
    “Fat chance,” I said to Granddaddy. I turned on Mark. “And you stay out of this.”
    “Come on Queenie Baby, be a sport,” Mark teased.
    “Don’t call me that!” I fumed. Granddaddy had been embarrassing me since I was a teenager with that nickname. He used to tell Granny Hacker that she’d better treat him like a king or he’d replace her with a young, sexy Queenie Baby. As much as he threatened, though, Granddaddy never replaced her. In fact, he was still a confirmed bachelor ten years after she’d gone to the big bargain store in the sky. Granddaddy meant it as a term of endearment, instead of something like “Cutie Pie.” I mean after all, what woman wouldn’t want to be a Queenie Baby?  
    “It’s cute,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.  
    I could feel myself blushing. Unbelievable. I had to get laid more often. This was ridiculous. I deliberately ignored his comment and leaned over to take a big swig of Jack. Granddaddy ordered Southern Comfort on the rocks.  
    “A little SoCo to warm my so cold cockles,” he cackled as he downed it in one motion. He slammed his glass down on the bar and called, “Barkeep, another SoCo. And keep ‘em coming. If my granddaughter ain’t gonna sing for me, then I’m gettin’ drunk!” He clinked shot glasses with Carol who was drinking something that looked like cappuccino out of her shot glass. Oh, good grief! This was getting out of hand.
    I could see Mark out of the corner of my eye. Arms crossed, leaning against the bar watching my every move. Why did he have to smell so good?
    “Fine,” I said. “I’ll sing. One song and then we’re out of here. We’ve got work tomorrow.” I looked pointedly at Carol. She raised her shot glass.  
    Granddaddy waved his hand in the direction of Greene’s. “That ain’t nothin’. You’re just tempin’ and she runs the place,” he said gesturing to Carol. “Who’s gonna know if you’re a wee bit late.”
    “We aren’t going to be late,” I said with determination. “One song and we’re gone.”  
    I pulled my guitar out of the case and dug through my pockets for a pick. There was always one in a pocket somewhere. Success!  
    Mark leaned in close and said, “A girl with a guitar. I don’t think there is anything sexier.”
    I flipped my long blond hair out from under the strap, looked up at him and replied, “You should see me play the guitar naked.” I turned around and headed for the stage before he could reply. Take that! I’m not some swooning teenager. No sir, I’m a grown woman who can play the game too.
    I was feeling pretty good about myself—and definitely a little tipsy—as I climbed up on stage. I plugged my acoustical guitar into the stage amp and repositioned the microphone. I strummed a few notes to check the sound and said, “I know it’s karaoke night, but my crazy Granddaddy is sitting over there at the bar.” I pointed to Granddaddy and the audience (all ten or so) turned around to look. Granddaddy waved to them. “And he’s threatening to keep doing shots until I play him a Patsy Cline song.” A couple of the rowdier customers hooted in support of Granddaddy and his shots. “So I’m dedicating this song to my crazy Granddaddy, my crazy day, and all my crazy friends.” Everyone in the bar clapped and hooted.  
    As I plucked the melody out on my guitar, the room quieted down and I began to sing Crazy . I loved anything by Patsy, but this song was definitely at the top of my list. It just felt sad and romantic, hopeful and hopeless all at once. Transposing it to play on the acoustical guitar had been difficult. But it had been a labor of love. As I sang the last few notes, I looked up and saw Mark with his eyes closed. What the heck! Geez, I’m putting people to sleep with my singing. Not good when you’re supposed to be a professional musician. When I strummed