Free All Hat by Brad Smith

him around, genius.”
    Dean took his drink and turned around, leaned back with his elbows on the bar. Ray Dokes sat with his legs crossed, watching as a fresh dancer ascended the stage. The dancer was dressed as a cowgirl, with six-shooters, a red cowboy hat, and a bullwhip, which she cracked periodically over the heads of the patrons up front.
    â€œHe doesn’t look so tough,” Dean said.
    â€œWhat’s looks got to do with it?” Paulie asked.
    â€œShut the fuck up.”
    Misty came out of the back room, wearing a short tight skirt and boots, which meant she was still working. She cast an irritable eye about the room, as if she was looking for someone who wasn’t there. When Dean waved to her, she rolled her eyes and walked over. She stepped between the two of them, and Paulie took the opportunity to smell her hair, her neck. She smelled, he decided, like a goddess.
    â€œJohnny Walker Blue,” she said to Tiny. She indicated Dean. “He’s paying.”
    Misty smiled impatiently as Dean did as he was told. She’d been hanging with the two pretty steadily for the past week or so. Dean was an easy touch for drinks, and she had, just a couple days earlier, hit Paulie up for two hundred dollars, saying she needed the money to buy her son a pair of hockey skates. This in spite of the fact that Misty was taking home two grand a week and that her kid, who lived in Wisconsin with his father, was barely two years old and probably not all that interested in hockey.
    Now Dean took a twenty from his pocket and offered it to her. “I want a table dance.”
    She shrugged. “We can go in the back.”
    â€œNot for me,” Dean said. He looked at Paulie. “Watch—I’m gonna give this Dokes a treat.” Then to Misty: “That guy in the corner. In the leather jacket. Tell him it’s on Dean Caldwell.”
    â€œI thought your name was Dino,” Misty said.
    â€œIt is,” Dean said quickly. “But in certain circles, I’m known as Dean.”
    Misty glanced at Paulie. “What are you known as, in certain circles?”
    â€œI’m always Paulie.”
    Ray was lighting a cigarette when he saw the blonde approaching, cutting through the crowd, the sway in her hips suggesting Monroe while the look in her eyes was all business. It took him a moment to realize that he was her target. Just as she arrived, the music ended. She sat down beside him, put her Scotch on the table.
    â€œYou’re getting a lap dance.”
    â€œNo thanks.” Ray drew on his cigarette, watching her narrowly.
    â€œHey, it’s paid for.”
    â€œBy who?”
    â€œGuy’s name is Dean Caldwell.” Misty crossed her legs, then turned toward the bar. “See the idiot at the bar with his mouth hanging open, wearing the hat? It’s the idiot beside him, with the spiked hair.”
    Ray looked over. “I don’t know him.”
    The music started up, and Misty got to her feet, moved in front of Ray. “I don’t care if you know him or not. He paid for a dance, and that’s what you’re getting.”
    â€œGo away,” Ray told her sharply.
    â€œDon’t fuck with me, man. I’m just doing my job.”
    â€œGo dance for somebody else. If I want to see you naked, I’ll go sit up front with the wankers.”
    Misty stared at him for a moment, gave him a look that told him she was this close to telling him to fuck off. But then she sat down.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t have a problem. You think you’re at a mixer?”
    â€œYou’re a miserable prick. What’re you doin’ here if that’s your attitude?”
    â€œMinding my own business, for starters. I came in for a beer.”
    â€œWho the fuck are you to look down your nose at me? I happen to have a B.A. in business from Yale.”
    â€œOh yeah? And I’m an astronaut.”
    She took a