7
I didn’t realize how much I was hoping to see Max until I pushed open the heavy door of the Bracken and saw her there behind the bar. She smiled as I came across the room and poured me a drink. Another girl I knew, a waitress from Staten Island who never begrudged a cigarette and was happy to tell the same funny stories as many times as you wanted to hear them, was reading a paperback under a red-shaded lamp on a chain. Everyone called her Peach. There was a dangerous loosening in my throat when I saw them, these two women who knew me a little, at least.
‘Thanks, doll,’ I said to Max, then regretted it, then brazened it out with a smile. She winked.
‘Haven’t seen you in a million years,’ said Peach. She tapped the lip of her drink against mine.
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘So busy you’ve negl
