The women’s restroom at Murray’s struck Shannon with as much as the bar had. Granite tiles and rich wood greeted her as she swung open the door.
On her way to the stalls, she passed an older woman parked in front of the sinks. She oversaw a counter filled with hairspray, mouthwash, and various other toiletries. Her name tag read, “Roberta.”
The woman’s presence creeped Shannon out. Who’d want to sit in a bathroom listening to rich ladies do their business all night? But, hey, it’s a living, she thought and smiled at the woman before heading into the stall.
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