Colt watched, his vision filled with the movement of Feb’s ass, his mind filled with memories of her standing in his bathroom in nothing but his t-shirt, solving the mystery of how she smoothed out her hair. Both made him smile.

He found Ruthie and as he had Shanghai Salon’s menu memorized much like practically every citizen in town, he gave her his order.

“You got it, Colt,” Ruthie said and headed to the office to call in the order.

Colt returned to his beer and his stool and watched his family work their bar and the way they did it. You have a few drinks, you got the money to pay for them, you enjoy yourself but keep yourself in line, it was like you were at a party at their home; welcome and they hoped you’d stay awhile. Dee being there would make life complete. Colt was pleased she’d made that choice, taken that chance and he hoped it worked out for her and Morrie.

On that thought, his phone rang, he pulled it out of the pocket of his suit jacket and looked at the display. A number came up he didn’t recognize but he flipped it open and put it to his ear, covering his other ear with his hand.

“Colton.”

There was a pause and then, “Um… Colt?”

Colt turned toward the wall to focus and he felt his gut get heavy. “Cheryl?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” she hesitated, “I don’t know if you want to know this.”

“Know what?”

“Just that…” another hesitation, “me and Ethan made it to Ohio okay. We’re here. Ethan’s sleepin’. He was excited all day. Thinks were on vacation.”

Colt closed his eyes taking in a breath and opened them on an exhale, feeling that weight lighten.

“That’s good,” he said. “Feds know where you are?”

“Called ‘em before I called you.”

“You hangin’ in there?” Colt asked.

“Could be better, seein’ as my boss didn’t take me hightailin’ outta town with no notice too good and fired my ass.”

“Cheryl –”

“It’s okay, I hated that job anyway and hated my boss worse. I still got a shitload of that asshole’s money and sold all that fuckin’ silver he gave me, which, by the way, wasn’t worth much. At least it was somethin’ so I got a nest egg that’ll last me and Ethan for awhile.”

Colt turned back to the bar and watched Jack laugh at something Joe-Bob said. Then his eyes slid to Feb and he watched her fill an order while she talked to her Mom. Then he saw Morrie take some beer bottles from Darryl and toss them in the bin, Darryl talking and Morrie grinning at whatever he was saying.

Then he thought of Morrie letting go his place, Feb letting go hers and Jack and Jackie off to Florida after Dee got settled in. Fridays and Saturdays, Darryl, Ruthie, Morrie and Feb always were working, on their feet and busy from five thirty until closing.

Then he thought about how he didn’t want Feb on her feet and closing the bar day in and day out like she’d been doing for two years. It was then he acutely felt Dee’s pain. If Colt was out of the house at some ungodly hour in the morning, which didn’t happen often but happened enough, and Feb dragged in at three in the morning, they’d have a few hours of sleep together and most of the time he saw her would be sitting exactly where he was, watching her move around the back of the bar.

Therefore, he said to Cheryl, “You get back, you come to Feb’s bar.”

She hesitated before she asked, “Why?”

“I know some people who’re good at takin’ care of people and you’re people.”

“Colt –”

“You come, it could be me buyin’ you a drink, it could be me talkin’ my woman into givin’ you a job. I’m not makin’ any promises but there’re far worse places you could be for either.”

“I –”

“Either way, it won’t take much of your time and it’ll be worth it.”

“But I –”

Colt cut her off. “In the meantime, I want you checkin’ in.”

“But –”

“Regular.”

“To you or the Feds?”

“Both.”

She hesitated again before she said, “All right.”

“See you in J&J’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Take care of that kid.”

“Always.”

“And yourself.”

“Not so good at that.”

“You’re young, you’ll learn.”She didn’t answer so Colt said, “Later.”

“Colt?”

“Yeah?”

There was another hesitation before she said, “Thanks.”

Then she disconnected.

“Who’s that?” Feb asked and Colt, who was twisted to put his phone back in his suit jacket pocket. He turned to see she was standing behind the bar right in front of him and he could tell by her face that she was preparing for whatever his answer would be, benign or malignant.

“Cheryl.”

“Cheryl who?”

“Cheryl one of the names at the bottom of the list of people Denny Lowe fucked over.”

“Oh,” Feb muttered, her eyes gliding away, her thoughts unhappy, malignant it was and it was lucky she prepared, “that Cheryl.”

“She’s safe in Ohio with her kid but her boss canned her for takin’ an unscheduled vacation.”

Feb’s eyes shot back, her unhappy thoughts gone, new unhappy thoughts in their place, she leaned forward so close she had to put her forearms on the bar and she hissed, “But she’s on the run from a murderer.”

“Don’t know any but not sure men who run strip clubs worry about that shit. Think they worry more about losin’ money.”

Feb leaned back slightly and snapped, “Oh my God, that sucks.” Her eyes were on his and the feeling behind them, mostly anger, was intense. “She’s got a kid! And she’d just been royally screwed! What a dick.” She shook her head and looked away, saying, “Poor Cheryl, she just needs this to deal with after learnin’ about Denny.”

Colt was finding it hard not to laugh but he didn’t try not to smile.

“Good you feel that way, honey, since I essentially told her, she gets back and comes in, you’ll give her a job.”

Her gaze cut back to him then her brows drew together, she still looked pissed but he figured she wasn’t pissed at some unknown strip club owner anymore.

Then she asked, “You did what?”

“Your monthly expenses are gonna change, movin’ in with me. Morrie’s overhead is gonna reduce significantly, bein’ back home, and you need the help.”

“Dee’s gonna be comin’ in.”

“And Dee’s gonna wanna work until three o’clock in the mornin’ about as much as I’m gonna want you doin’ it.”

“Cheryl’s got a kid, how’s she gonna work until three?”

“Baby, she was a stripper.”

He had her there. He knew it because she straightened, put her hands to her hips and stared at him without saying a word.

Then she found the words she wanted to say. “You gonna offer a job at J&J’s to every stray that wanders your way?”

“Only the ones been fucked over by Denny Lowe.”

He had her there too. Like it or not, Cheryl was in their club. A club they didn’t ask to join but they were stuck together in it all the same.

Feb proved he had her when she asked, “She know how to make a drink?”

“She doesn’t, reckon she can be taught, same as Dee.”

“She got her shit together?”

“Does Darryl?”

Feb’s eyes slid to Darryl then they hit the floor and she whispered, “Fuck me.”

“That’s later.”

She looked at him and her face cracked. She didn’t want to smile and she didn’t want to laugh but she was having a hard time not doing either.

When she won her struggle against her humor, she declared, “I take her on, then you’ll owe me.”

“I’ll pay.”

She shook her head before she tipped it to his beer. “Ready for another?”

“When Shanghai gets here.”

“All right, babe,” she said and turned away and again Colt watched her ass when she did.

* * *

It was after they shared their food while sitting in the office and shooting the shit during Feb’s break, all of which lasted less than twenty minutes.

It was after the crush hit the red zone, everyone in town buzzing and wanting to be out. Spring was there, weather was turning warmer, days were longer and dead bodies were being found. It was time, if you were alive, to be alive and get your ass to J&J’s, have a drink, see your friends and neighbors and have a good time.

It was when Colt was feeling a fatigue he hadn’t felt in a long time, with stress and broken sleep, all through riding an emotional roller coaster. He just wanted to go home and go to bed with Feb and, yes, with her damned cat draped on their feet.

It was when he thought this that he saw Feb slide through the crowd toward the jukebox. She found her song, put in a coin and pressed buttons. He’d seen her do that on occasion in the last two years. She did it more before, when she would be home visiting and wasn’t working.

It was when she turned and headed toward a table where they were calling her name, Colt decided he could stay awhile. If Feb was in the mood for some of her music then Colt wasn’t too tired to sit on a stool, drink his beer and watch her enjoy it.

It took five songs for Feb’s to come on. She was behind the bar at the other end but Colt still knew it was hers. It wasn’t what he was expecting or anyone would expect. The music came loud because the box was set loud, but it wasn’t rowdy Friday night bar music by a long shot.

The minute he heard the guitar his eyes went to her to see hers come to him. Then she dipped her chin, looking away while she tucked her hair behind her ear, bashful at showing her emotion.

And that’s when Colt knew it wasn’t Feb’s song. It was the song Feb chose for him, or the song she chose to say the things she couldn’t say.