Luka
The Purple Unicorn in the afternoon was a quiet, honest place.
Without the stage lights it was just a room. Purple paint that looked a little gaudy in the daylight, the smell of last night's spilled liquor coming up out of the floorboards, a mop bucket parked where a hundred women had stood screaming last midnight. The pirate uniforms were hung in the back like drowned men.
I liked it best that way. It was easier to work in a room that wasn't lying to you.
I was running scales at the piano with my bad leg stretched out under the bench when Dallas came out of her office and stood at the end of the bar with her arms crossed.
"There's a girl here for you."
"Tell her I don't do that."
"I did." Dallas had a voice like a match being struck. She was in her forties, wild as a house fir
