Tashi turned west on Winchester, past the old Americana Club, which used to be the Eagle’s Nest, where her mother said Elvis had his very first gig. When Caddy worked here it was a Mexican club, full of undocumented workers and Norteño bands playing long into the night. Caddy recalled going there one night after hours and watching a man bleed out in the parking lot from stab wounds. Holding his hand until the paramedics came, long after he died. She had prayed to him in English. He didn’t understand a damn word.

“Dixie Belles?”

“That’s it,” Caddy said. “See that place? It’s one place that hasn’t changed.”

The building looked like a neon wedding cake, four times the size of Vienna’s back in Jericho, with eight stages and two VIP rooms. The sign outside boasted a nationally known porn star who said she had sex with the president of the United States. Tashi slowed in the parking lot. A muscular man with a shaved head stood under the portico by a long black limousine. Just being back here shortened her breath, made her sweat a little, the neon glow shining onto her face. She closed her eyes, her pulse racing. She could do this. She could do this.

“Why’d you quit?”

“Are you kidding?” Caddy said, taking a deep breath. “Come on inside. I’ll show you exactly how it used to be.”

“We don’t have to,” Tashi said. “I can stop recording.”

Caddy reached for her door handle. “Quit trying to be empathic and come on,” she said. “Keep that mic out of sight. Some girls might get a little paranoid.”

*   *   *

“You always take your dog to work with you?” Fannie Hathcock asked Quinn.

“Depends,” Quinn said.

“On what?”

“On whether Hondo feels like work,” Quinn said, reaching down to scratch the cattle dog’s head. “Sometimes he just feels like sleeping on the front porch. Older he gets, the lazier he gets.”

Quinn was working late, taking over for Reggie, who had a sick wife at home and two young kids. Fannie had wandered in unannounced, knocking on his half-open door, dressed in a tight-fitting black dress with a plunging neckline and lacy straps. Her silver ruby locket hung down between her large breasts as she leaned against the doorframe. She looked worn out, with tired, reddened eyes.

“You just coming from a party?” Quinn said, pushing back from writing a report on his laptop and looking up at Fannie. The visit was a surprise and a rare occasion.