air in the bar was thick with the smell of cheap whiskey and cheaper perfume, a haze of cigarette smoke clinging to the low ceiling like a dirty secret. Neon signs cast lurid pink and blue light across sticky tables, and the bass from the speakers vibrated through the floorboards, up through the soles of Lana's shoes. She moved behind the bar with practiced efficiency, wiping down the counter for the third time that hour, the rag rough against her fingertips.She is in the thoughts of the man she slept with yesterday.

After sometime three men walked in, and the atmosphere shifted. It wasn't just their expensive suits, sharp and dark against the room's shabbiness, or the way they moved with an ownership they hadn't earned. It was the space they commanded, the air parting for them. They settled at the bar.