“What harm could it do?” Boom said, cutting his handsome dark eyes at Caddy. “That boy’s crazy about you. Ain’t nothing gonna change that fact.”

“You know, I believe there is a reason for all this,” Caddy said. “My relapse? What happened to me, it was for a reason. I got weak again, I didn’t value what I’d been given. God showed me what it was like to lose it all, again. And because of that, I’m twice as strong as I used to be. I needed Jamey Dixon at first, and when he was gone, I was left with me and didn’t think I was enough. Now, this is all me.”

“That ain’t a reason not to ask for help.”

“One thing I’ve learned running this ministry is everyone hates to beg,” Caddy said. “I’ve prayed and prayed on it. Something will happen. And something good will happen for you.”

*   *   *

Sometimes Fannie liked Vienna’s best right before the front doors opened for the long night. There was a quiet kind of pregame excitement to the place, dimming the lights, switching on the neon and flashing lights, all the liquor bottles filled and in order. The easy chairs in the VIP room had been rubbed down with Armor All, carpets vacuumed, and the wooden floors swept. Sometimes she played a little music to get the girls in the right mood, some of them in back suiting up for the night, others already ready for their shift, slumped in chairs around the stages, taking selfies to draw in their best customers or playing Candy Crush on their iPhones. Tonight, she just couldn’t help herself as she poured herself a third cocktail, Debby Boone singing “You Light Up My Life,” one of Ray’s favorites, feeling a little raw and emotional, more on edge since that walking dildo Skinner paid her a visit.

Midnight Man worked slow and silent behind the bar, plugging in fresh kegs in between slicing lemons and oranges for the cocktails. The small bottles of champagne looked pretty as a picture behind the glass door of the refrigerators.

“The problem with that old liver-spotted son of a bitch is his dick is broken. Probably hasn’t worked for years. Makes him hate anyone who can find pleasure in this shitty little cold planet. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, drives around high and mighty in that Ram truck, looking down on people who don’t belong to his particular club of goody-goody assholes, that rotten little smile on his face, acting like he knows something more than the average person. What do you think he sees, Midnight Man, that you and I don’t see?”