Acting Tough

It was hard acting tough all the time. Julia sneered at the overweight drunken oaf across the counter from her who had just asked her to come home with him for the seventh time that night.
“Honey, you couldn’t live through foreplay with me!”
He chuckled and his head dropped to the bar.
“I’m cutting you off tonight, Fred. Bar’s closed.” Julia didn’t know this guy’s real name, she called them all Fred. It was 3 AM and she should have locked up an hour ago, but Fred had been crying again and she pitied him. She called him a cab.

Walking home in the dead of the night wasn’t as dangerous as she used to think. Most druggies and hookers have had their fixes and are passed out. She walked the alleys in relative peace.
“Hey, Bitch!” a voice yelled. Julia kept walking.
“I said, HEY, you. Stop!” the voice yelled louder.
“Piss off!” Julia threw out at the voice. She trotted in her heeled leather boots. She was wearing leather and spikes, the guy prolly thought she was a hooker. It was only an image.
She ran.

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