Chapter 58
I STUMBLED into the comforting coolness of Jack’s bar.
The neon was off, but the extra track of lights was on over the bar, casting dazzling reflections off the heavily varnished wood. Jack was on the wrong side of the bar, a heavy butcher knife in his hand, slicing melons into a self-sealing bin large enough to hold a roast turkey.
Jack glanced at me, nodded in greeting, and resumed slicing.
I stood in the doorway, full of an aching heavy hollowness.
Copy? Maybe.
But: real?
Maybe.
When I didn’t move, Jack looked back up. “Kevin? Ye’ okay?”
I made myself step towards the bar. “Vodka. Unless you have harder.”
Jack hurriedly wiped his hands with a stained towel and scuttled around the bar. “All we got is Black Goose.”
“Fine.” I didn’t know vodka from anything, except th
