Free All the Sky by Susan Fanetti

replace it.”
    “What happened?” He had no idea why he was asking.
    And neither did she—she gave him that look again. “I guess the owner’s girlfriend’s sister plays or something. I didn’t really care about why. That gig kind of sucked anyway. The owner was always trying to get me to wear tight shirts.”
    “Not a bad idea. You’d probably get better tips that way.”
    “Jesus. That’s a shitty thing to say, Hav.”
    “Why? I’m saying you’ve got good tits. Just tryin’ to make you more money. You’re living in Bonnie’s rusted-out RV, for fuck’s sake.”
    “Just—just don’t talk about my tits, okay? And don’t worry about where Nolan and I live. I’m getting it figured out.”
    “Where’s the kid, anyway?” Nolan hung out on her shift more than half the time. He was a good kid—quiet, and a little moody, but a good kid. Havoc was bummed not to see him; he liked having him around. Some of the regulars did, too. He’d taken to bringing his sketchbook and drawing for people, and he was making a little bit of money, without ever asking for it.
    “He’s home. I didn’t know what it would be like here on a Saturday night.”
    He laughed. “Not much different from any other night. These people don’t exactly know how to party.”
    She laughed, too. Her laugh was like her singing voice—sweet and throaty—and Havoc felt it as if she’d touched him.
    “No, they don’t.” She walked to the open end of the bar, headed out to the table that still had customers, and he went back to the office to prep the close, feeling suddenly, inexplicably pissed at her.
    Later, when she came back with the tape and the till, she set it down on the desk and turned around without saying anything. Feeling out of sorts, he realized that he didn’t want her to go. The thought of being in the bar on his own tonight felt oddly lonesome, even though he was alone in here after close every night.
    “Hey—what d’you drink?”
    She turned back, her forehead creased with confusion. “What?”
    “What do you drink?”
    “Uh, I don’t know. Pretty much anything, I guess.”
    “C’mon. What do you like?”
    She shrugged. “Whiskey, I guess.”
    That made him grin. “After my own heart. Pour a couple, would ya?”
    She just stood there, staring at him, her forehead still creased.
    After a few seconds, he felt defensive. “What?”
    “Are you asking me to have a drink with you?”
    “Yeah. So?”
    Her brow still screwed up tight, she put her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
    “What? I don’t want to fuck you. Jesus! Forget it. Get out.”
    She didn’t move, but her expression smoothed out. “Sorry—I…you surprised me. I’ll get you that drink, if you still want it.”
    He stared hard at her, not sure why he was feeling like he was—pissed and stirred up and who knew what all. Finally, he raised his eyebrows and let that be his answer. She could take it however she liked. She left the office, and he went back to his paperwork, feeling like he was going to need to ride awhile tonight and get his head clear before he tried to bunk down.
    She came back a minute or so later with two old fashioned glasses, filled with about four fingers of what he assumed would be whiskey. She didn’t fuck around when she poured a drink.
    He took the glass she offered him. “You don’t pour this tall for customers, do ya?”
    “Not unless they specifically ask for it. But you’re the boss, and you look like you need it.” She sat down on the plastic chair in front of the desk and lifted her glass to him. “Cheers.”
    He was already swallowing down his drink, but he pulled back and lifted his glass.
    “You’re different tonight.”
    “What do you mean?” he finished his whiskey and got up from the desk. That was not enough. He went out and grabbed the bottle. After he poured himself another, he set it in the middle of the desk, about evenly between them.
    “More talkative, I guess. You