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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.

I poured two beers incorrectly.

Opened a bottle of wine with part of the cork still inside it.

Gave the wrong drink to Mabel, who drank it anyway and declared it medicinal.

Then Max walked behind the bar and lay near my feet.

People began stopping to ask about him.

I told them not to pet him without permission.

Every person listened.

Max accepted attention from three children, an elderly man, and a woman carrying a purse large enough to hide a weapon.

He growled at Trigger twice.

By one o’clock, someone had placed a tip jar near Max.

It contained forty-three dollars.

My tip jar contained twelve.

“This town has poor judgment,” I said.

Trigger counted Max’s money. “He has better customer service.”

“He’s asleep.”

“Exactly. He isn’t scowling at anyone.”

“I don’t scowl.”

The woman sitting at the bar glanced at me.

“You do.”

“Thank you,” Trigger told her.

I considered leaving.

Then Dylan came behind the bar and asked if he could refill Max’s water bowl.