“I could do that in my room.”
Trigger handed me a black T-shirt with THE LAST STAND TAVERN printed across the front.
“I’m not wearing this.”
“Why?”
“It has your face on the back.”
He grinned. “Brand recognition.”
I turned it over.
A badly drawn picture of Trigger pointed toward the words ASK ME ABOUT LADIES’ NIGHT.
“No.”
“Wolf said you have to work.”
“Wolf didn’t say I had to wear your face.”
Rylie appeared behind him.
“Why is your face on a shirt?”
“Marketing.”
She took the shirt from me.
Trigger smiled. “You like it?”
“No.”
She dropped it into the trash.
Trigger stared after it.
“That cost twenty-two dollars.”
“You bought more than one?”
“Thirty.”
Rylie looked toward the ceiling as though asking for strength.
I liked her.
I understood why Trigger loved her.
Nora brought me a plain black tavern shirt.
“Try this one.”
“No faces?”
“No faces.”
I put it on and worked behind the bar.