I looked at her and saw she was genuinely scared. The blood that went so easily to her cheeks earlier was nowhere to be found.

“What?” I asked.

“Whatever it is you’re getting here, I won’t judge you, but I just can’t . . . I don’t want any.”

Newbs always held on to their morals, as if morality were still worthwhile currency.

“You’re lucky I still got some,” Jack said, coming back up the stairs. He positioned himself against the bar, blocking the booths from view, and opened his flannel to flash the bottles: amber and glistening.

“Miller Lite, and don’t you dare bitch about it.”

“I would never,” I said, holding three fingers to my heart because I saw some kid do it during a deal once and it made him look extra sincere.

Jack nodded and poured the beer into frosted pint glasses, splashing a bit onto the cocktail napkins placed beneath them.

“Enjoy.” He winked at Cal and walked off down the bar.

“It’s beer,” she said. I caught the smile in her voice before I saw it.

“Infused with heroin, of course,” I answered, swirling my glass and savoring the droplets of condensation against my fingertips. Have you ever touched a drop of water so gently that you can still feel the edge of it? I love that feeling.

I miss the edges of things. Without time, it’s hard to find edges.

“I’m kidding,” I said. “Management is way too cheap to put heroin in the beer.”

Cal laughed. I liked it.

“Well, I feel like a doofus,” she said, pulling her beer toward her and admiring the color. “Horror, I’ve missed beer.”

“I think you might be the first person to ever say ‘doofus’ in this establishment.”

We were both quiet for our first deep sips. I used to think crap beer tasted like Velcro, but this tasted like honey. The only constant is change.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said, “how long have you been down here?”

Cal wiped her mouth.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t—”

“No, no. I can. I’ve been here for . . . what is it now? Four millennia. I spent the beginning—only the first millennium, really—Downstairs. Then I worked up to the Third Floor, and last week they transferred me up to Deals.”

I had heard people mention the Downstairs like that—like it was any other floor—but I wasn’t expecting it from her. A millennium Downstairs was a rough way to start, even if it was a relatively short stay. I looked at her as she sipped her beer, eyes closed. I could feel her knee next to mine, bouncing slightly beneath the bar. She looked small and timid. Gun-shy. I wondered if she had always been that way, or if the Downstairs had done it.