CHAPTER 39
The bar was called The Missouri Lounge. Tana had never been there. She’d never been to Missouri either. The place was on Post Street, not far from the St. Francis Hotel and the tourist attractions that drew visitors from around the world to Union Square. But it seemed to belong to another time in the city and reminded Tana of the bars she saw in the old movies she watched on TCM late at night when she couldn’t sleep. The crowd was older too—the men in suits and bowties, the women in pearls. As she stood by the door and looked around, Tana wondered if it was seniors night, or if it was that way every night at The Missouri Lounge. A jukebox was playing a song by some crooner who, like everything else about the bar, seemed lost in the past.
Then she saw a thin, birdlike woman in
