“Charm school loses its charm after awhile. You get taught to flatter, taught to please. And there weren’t any pulpy tattoo-happy space prisons to send a girl like me to. No one likes a brassy, mouthy broad with a sense of humor. Except one: Let’s call him Mistah J. We robbed from the rich and gave to… whoever. The only lovebirds in the depression not depressed. We was livin’ high.”
Bombshells #042