Read Deep Fried and Pickled (Book One - The Rachael O'Brien Chronicles) for Free Online

your bird’s name?” Katie Lee asked.
    The bartender moved toward us. His eyebrows were full, but the ink black hair under his straw fedora thinned against his neck. His nametag read, Stone R. Stroking the still feathers, he leaned toward Katie Lee. “Give Lolita a pet. She’s friendly.”
    Katie Lee used one finger to touch the taxidermy bird.
    “Um, Stone R,” Macy said, “I hate to tell you, but your Lolita is a stiff.”
    Stone looked at his shoes then smiled at Macy. “What can I get you ladies?”
    As long as Stone R didn’t stir my drink with a feather plume, I was happy to ignore the stuffed-bird he’d fastened to his shoulder.
    Katie Lee straightened the edges of a napkin pile and picked up a handful of snack mix. “Three fireflies with pink lemonade and a lemon twist.”
    “What the hell is firefly?” Macy asked, making me feel less amateur.
    “Trust me,” Katie Lee said, “you’re gonna love this drink.”
    “Is it a green flaming shot?” I asked. “Cause I don’t know how to swallow fire.”
    Macy strummed her nails against the bar. “With the right attitude, you can swallow lots of things.”
    With a pocket full of quarters from my laundry money, I bought the first round. We settled around a high bistro table, where my feet dangled from the pleather-upholstered bar stools. Stone R. supplied a steady stream of the non-flaming, sweet drinks that warmed my face from the inside out. I traced the darkened water stains on the tabletop with my finger while the three of us hashed out the pros and cons of our freshman classes and theorized why campus went quiet on weekends. We agreed the workload was too heavy, and Macy and I needed to find out where the available guys hid.
    Macy stool faced the door. After an hour, she clunked another empty drink down and asked, “Where the fuck is everyone?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, thinking the entire student body left campus on weekends. None of us had cars, but it seemed the rest of the students did.
    Katie Lee rested her elbows on the tabletop and slurred, “Y’all, boyfriend or no boyfriend this is not a happy start for experiencing freedom and intermingling with coeds.”
    We’d each bought a round and Stone delivered a round on the house. Katie Lee quizzed the bird-loving bartender. “Why the fascination with cockatoos?”
    Stone slid a stool up to our table. “I’m studying to be an ornithologist. The U.S. needs to ramp up security in airports and at border crossings to stop the illegal bird trade. Traffickers are extinguishin’ the world’s population of exotic birds. If they’re not stopped, the virgin rain forest diversity and ecological balance will change the earth.”
    Macy placed her hand on top of Stone’s. “You’re wearing a dead cockatoo. How’s that going to help?”
    Stone gleamed, and he pretended to pinch her cheek. “Lolita brings about curiosity. Curiosity sparks conversation--the beginnings of awareness.”
    I’d listened to a bunch of bird-talk from a guy who had a fixation with feathers. The phone under the bar rang, and Stone went to answer it. It was past ten, and I realized I’d plunged into a buzzed funk, dismayed at yet another uneventful weekend. The truth serum disguised as firefly freed my lips and I confessed, “This is not the college life I envisioned. I’ve never been with a guy and at this rate will die a virgin.” I threw my arms up in the air and clonked my forehead into the table to organize my thoughts. “I feel cheated. Almost an entire month--and nothing. No obsessions, chance encounters or drunken nights that I can’t remember or want to forget.”
    I considered the night finished and was ready to head back toward Campus Drive, when Macy’s nail tips made train tracks in my upper arm.
    “Ouch,” I yelped. “Watch the talons.”
    “I think those are students coming in past Max.”
    We watched a steady stream of underage students surge in. The music got louder, and the night didn’t