LEXIE
"Two whiskeys, table three, and Tommy's asking if the kitchen's still open," I called over my shoulder, already reaching for glasses before Mia had a chance to answer.
"Kitchen closed twenty minutes ago," Mia said. "Tell him Brick already went home."
"He's going to be devastated."
"He'll survive on pretzels like the rest of us."
I delivered the news to Tommy, who took it with the appropriate level of theatrical despair, and made my way back toward the bar just as one of the older members, a quiet guy named Walt who mostly kept to himself at the corner table, got up and walked over to the jukebox in the back corner.
He fed it some coins, punched in a selection without needing to check anything, and a moment later an old song started up, something slow and worn, guitar and a voic
