Peril

SARA

The phone rang. She picked it up.

“Samantha?” a voice said. “Damonte?”

The guy, Sara thought, surprised, the guy at the bar. “Yes.”

“This is Abe, the guy owns the place that had the open mike deal last night? Morgenstern? We talked for a couple minutes?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the thing is, I liked the way you sang, you know? I liked it a lot.”

“Thank you.”

“So, I was wondering. Would you be interested in coming by again?”

“Coming by?”

“I’d like to talk to you about, maybe, developing an act, you know? For the bar, I mean. Would you… well… would you be interested in that?”

“Yes, I would,” she told him.

“Okay, so, when could you drop by?”

She thought of the brief conversation she’d had with the man the night before. He’d seemed easygoing, a guy who probably never got mad or snapped at anybody. A boss like that was what she needed, she supposed, because she was jumpy, on edge, always looking over her shoulder, felt in every heartbeat a little ache of fear. “Would this afternoon be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine,” the man said. “How about two-thirty?”

“Okay.”

“See you then.”

She put down the phone and felt a little burst of hope. Not much, she admitted, but maybe just enough to get her through the day.