There was a pattern to my weekends now. I went to any of the clubs within a three-hour drive to look for some action. Not the kind the good sheriff thought I was into, but another brand. I’d drink like a fish and wait to be picked up by that special someone. One I hoped I could end up planting in the backyard, if I didn’t get killed first. I’d been doing this for six years now. Maybe I had a death wish. Funny, really, since technically I was half dead.

Therefore my near miss with the law didn’t stop me from going out the following Friday. At least this way, I knew I was making one person happy. My mother. Well, she had a right to hold a grudge. I just wished it hadn’t spilled over to me.

The club’s loud music hit me like a splash, jerking my pulse to its beat. I made my way carefully through the crowds, seeking that unmistakable vibe. The place was packed, a typical Friday night. After I wandered around for an hour, I felt the first stirrings of disappointment. There appeared to be only people here. With a sigh, I sat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. The first man who tried to kill me had ordered it for me. It was now my drink of choice. Who said I wasn’t sentimental?

Men approached me periodically. Something about being a single young woman screamed “Screw me” to them. Politely and somewhat impolitely I turned them down, depending on how persistent they were. I wasn’t here to date. After my first boyfriend, Danny, I never wanted to date again. If the guy was alive, I wasn’t interested. No wonder I had no love life to speak of.

After three more drinks I decided to cruise the club again, since I was having no luck being bait. It was nearly midnight, and so far there had been nothing aside from alcohol, drugs, and dancing.