Madeline sat across the bar flanked by Dorian and Moreen. It was December outside and August inside. Their sweat glands weren't lying about it. The sun had gone down hours ago and whisky wasn't the only thing on my mind. Johnny ray was on the horn. He made all the old dogs jealous with each heavy, wing filled berth.

Monica leaned in real close and whispered her ego far away. It was that kind of close sober friends avoid. I ordered another drink. "Girls like you should have a license to operate those lips," I said. She smiled and stumbled off, I road home alone that night.