Page 11 of Smoke and Glitter

Marisol comes offstage flushed and sweating beneath the rhinestones. She points toward the tequila as she approaches, but I already have the shot waiting.

"I love you," she says, taking it from me.

"You say that every Friday."

"Because every Friday you earn it."

She drinks and heads backstage while I'm already reaching for somebody else's glass.

By last call, the room has thinned enough that I can hear chairs dragging across the floor. I clear the last few tabs, lock the front door and bring up the house lights.

Autumn squints against them.

"Now you know why we keep them off."

Without the low lighting and a couple hundred people in it, Vibes shows its wear. Scratches run across the bar top, the green velvet has worn thin in places, and years of shoes have dulled the same stretch of brass rail.

Autumn is still on her stool, chin resting in one hand while she watches me wipe down the bar. She turns her glass slowly between her fingers. "You know what everybody needs before they ask for it."

"I'm observant."

"I've noticed."

There's a small smile in her glass when she says it.

I leave the towel on the bar and come around the end. Most of the time, being on this side means I'm clearing a table or walking someone out. Tonight I stop in front of her.

She follows me with her eyes.

"Sam."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to ask me something, or are we staying extremely comfortable for another hour?"

"I live upstairs."

"I'm aware."

"That's not what I asked you."

One corner of her mouth lifts. "You haven't asked me anything yet."

Right.

I take the glass from her hand and set it on the bar behind me.

"Come upstairs."

She's off the stool before I finish saying it.

I lead her through the narrow stairwell to the apartment. At the top, I turn and catch the beginning of a smile, her mouth already shifting like she's about to say something.

"Don't."

She stops.

"You've been on all night," I tell her. "You can put it down."