She pulled into the parking lot behind the bar. It was poorly lit and one or two couples leaned against cars, talking, touching each other. Cameron was glad this was not a gay bar. Deems had chosen this bar himself. They knew that the owners did everything they could to keep drugs off the property and even called the police when they knew something was happening. But the clientele was young, just at the minimum drinking age, and other things besides drinks and phone numbers were exchanged there. The kids, though, knew that the bar would get closed down if any drugs were found there, so the traffic either went on in the back alley or behind closed bathroom stall doors. No one’d been busted there in over a year.
The bright strobe lights off the dance floor assaulted Cameron as she walked in
