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snow smoking cigarettes. Above them the neon pink sign illuminated by buzzing florescent lights reads
Cherry’s
in cursive script. One of the R’s has gone dark.
    Even with my hood up and wearing considerably less makeup than I was in the courtroom, I’ll still be recognizable. My face is still plastered all over the news. There’s got to be at least one shady dick in here who’ll be more than willing to give me a rough time, and that’s not even considering the person who threatened me in the first place.
    I don’t even know who I’m looking for.
    I get into the bar fairly easy, flashing my ID with a fake name to the bouncer. He looks at the card and says absolutely nothing, waving me along.
    Maybe I am blowing this way out of proportion and no one here will acknowledge my existence.
    The dark bar reeks of cigarettes, booze, and sweat. My eyes flit to the vacant stripper poles on top of tables scattered about the place. The cheap, florescent mood lighting is about as classy in here as it is on the sign. It’s relatively dead for a Friday night, and I don’t immediately spot any women. My gaze rests on the only soft light in the room, the light behind the bar. I laugh beneath my breath.
    Valerie sits on her stool, hunched over a glass of amber liquid. She stares vacantly at the game playing on the television above the top shelf.
    I slide next to her and tell the bartender, “I’ll have what she’s having.”
    Valerie does a double take when she glances at me. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    The bartender slides me the drink, and I sniff it. Whiskey. Never had a liking for the stuff, but a drink’s a drink. I down it in one gulp and slam the glass on the counter.
    “Two more, please.” I slide cash across the table.
    The bartender studies my face, and then he turns to Valerie. “The whole gang getting together, or what?”
    “I don’t know why she’s here,” Valerie says. “I’m not looking to cause trouble.”
    “Relax, sweetcheeks.”
    Valerie grimaces at the horrid nickname.
    “I’m not gonna kick you or your friend here out. I’m sure you already have enough shit to deal with. Just keep to yourself and most of these folks will probably ignore you. This crowd isn’t big on national events. They stick to their own lives.”
    “Thank you,” I mumble when he slides me the next drink. I turn back to Valerie. “What are
you
doing here?”
    “Asked you first.” Her sunken eyes stay glued to the television screen. She brings her glass up to her mouth and slowly tips it, sipping slowly. “Gotta savor. Can’t afford shit when the government wants to up and destroy my life.”
    “We should take up that book deal we were offered.”
    “Yeah-fucking-right.”
    “Is that why you’re not eating? Because of money? I thought your dad was loaded. Didn’t he buy you a Porsche?”
    She blinks and turns her head toward me. “Hey, fuck you. What is this, an intervention?”
    “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
    “Well guess what . . . I’m here. Been here for the past week every damn night.”
    “It’s true,” says the bartender.
    “Why?” I ask.
    “You know. Don’t have much else to do while waiting to be arrested and retried.”
    “That might not happen for months.”
    She shrugs and glances back up at the television. It gives me an opportunity to study her while she isn’t staring at me. God, she’s so skinny. The coal liner beneath her eyes is smudged. Her hair has grown out so her natural color shows in dark bursts near her scalp. I don’t even remember her letting her hair grow out when she was in
prison
.
    Something isn’t right.
    “Where is your dad? Your sister?”
    Her shoulders sag, and she frowns. “Why are you here, Evalyn?”
    “Where is your family?”
    Holding her drink up to her mouth, she says, “Come on.” She knocks the rest of it back. “You know as well as I do that as much as they say they love you, they don’t get it. They don’t get why you’re