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Page 114
bon and ten hours later you're still half-stoned."
"I . . . I didn't turn on any lights. I came in here in the dark. The closer I got to it, the surer I was."
Cappy grabbed the jar, scooted it along the counter top and picked it up. The semiopaque, reddish-gray liquid sloshed back and forth. "Know what this is?" she snarled.
Harvey shook his unfortunate head.
"It's a joke. It's a sick goddamn joke!"
Harvey's face still had a look of puzzlement.
She shook the jar violently. "This sorry piece of shit is what I got, all I got, for two years of screwin' Charlie Frazier. It's his idea of a joke, a goddamn glass jar of dirty water!"
Harvey stared at the woman as she raged on.
"You know what that prick did? He hauled me out of a room full of his friends, tells me I ain't goin' back to the States with him, that there ain't gonna be no wedding, shoves me into a damned taxi and tells me to go peddle my ass elsewhere. Then he hands me this jar."
Harvey looked away. The woman was right; Americans had no right to act like they did.
"Not only that, Mr. damned Airman, you know what I'm going to do with it?"
Before Harvey could conjure up anything resembling a response, Cappy's fit of anger had blossomed into full rage. She slammed

 
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