Free Heaven Sent by E. van Lowe

a tourist destination.” She laughed at the ridiculousness of it.
    “What’s with the dollars anyway?”
    “It’s an old cowboy tradition. Back in the day, before a cowboy left town, he’d put his signature on one or two dollar bills and staple them to the ceiling. This way he knew when he returned he’d have money for a drink. Today, whenever a new person comes through, they sign a dollar and look for an empty spot to stick it.”
    The trivia collecting part of me loved the story. This relaxed me. I moved closer. “That’s a good story.”
    “So you’re not a tourist, and you’re obviously not from the neighborhood. You must be looking for a guy.” She grinned. It was an open mouth grin revealing a big gap in the front of her mouth. At first I thought she was missing a tooth, but it was just a gap.
    “Actually I’m looking for my friend. Her name is Erin.”
    “Oh, Danny’s girl.”
    I was surprised she knew who I was talking about. But she didn’t say fiancé which meant there was still hope.
    “I seen them two around here earlier. They’re probably in the back.”
    It was then I noticed the darkened, narrow passageway just beyond the bar leading to the back room.
    “What’s back there?” I asked. The tremor had returned to my voice. I hoped she didn’t notice.
    “Pool table, poker table, the usual.” She didn’t say dead body , which to my way of thinking was a “usual” thing you might find in the darkened back room of a grungy cowboy biker bar.
    “Thanks,” I said huskily, and started for the rear.
    “Don’t forget to sign your dollar bill before you leave. Become a part of history. I’ll look around for a clean spot for you to stick it.”
    “Thanks,” I called again.
    I moved past the bar, avoiding eye contact with any of the men. I didn’t want what had happened outside on the street to happen again. Once I was in the passageway, I could see the room ahead of me. It was brighter in there.
    I entered. Two men were playing pool. Erin and another girl were leaning against the wall by a vending machine talking. Erin had aged since I’d last seen her. Or maybe it was the unflattering lighting or the thick mascara, but she didn’t look like Erin—not my Erin, anyway.
    I started toward her. She looked up as I was crossing the room.
    Don’t make a scene. Please don’t make a scene.
    She was smiling with the girl, but when she saw me, the smile vanished. She didn’t say anything, though. I was grateful for that.
    “Hey, Erin,” I said as I walked up. My heart was in my mouth, hoping she didn’t jump down my throat.
    “Well, look who’s here. Millie, this is an old friend of mine. Umm, what did you say your name was again?” Her voice was laced with sarcasm.
    “She’s a laugh riot,” I said to Millie, who appeared to be at least twenty-one, and was now getting a good look at my Hello Kitty tank top and forming her own opinion of me. Although, in my defense, Millie’s cut-off Daisy Dukes, tee shirt rising above a belly roll, and calf-high snakeskin cowboy boots weren’t much of a fashion statement either.
    “Megan Barnett, isn’t that it?” said Erin. “The smartest girl at Glendale Union high. I can’t believe you’re slumming.”
    Millie thought that was funny and let loose a throaty chuckle. The two men at the pool table had stopped playing and were now eyeing us curiously, wondering if we were about to reward them with a fight. I noticed a card table off to the right with several chairs around it, some of them toppled over. Maybe fighting was a regular thing back here.
    “I just want to talk to you,” I said softly.
    “Okay,” she replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “You came all this way. Talk.”
    I glanced at Millie who didn’t seem to be leaving. “I was hoping we could talk alone.”
    “That’s not going to happen,” Erin said. “Millie here is my best friend.”
    “I’m gonna be her maid of honor,” Millie said with throaty