The next day, Malibu pulled on another oversized dress and went back to work at the Kit Kat Club. She was working the night shift, so the place was hopping. The small, round cocktail tables were filled with tipsy women, while frisky young waitresses wearing high heels and fishnet stockings glided around the tables like river water flowing past rocks.
After about an hour, Max from the previous night pushed through the front door. He stood out like a sore thumb. His very presence changed the character of the room, as if the universe itself had been tilted on its axis. Still, no one bothered him—he was just ignored. Max wore a nearly carbon copy outfit to the one he had donned the day before—a dark suit with a white shirt and white gloves—only this time he had on a bow tie. His lips were sti
