“You are a tough one, Miz Dotty.”

“Had to be with this job. I’m going to open the door now. You get the far end, and I’ll work this one. Get ready for the first rush.”

“Thank you.” Jolene hugged Dotty. “For not letting Flossie and Lucy talk you into firin’ me.”

“Us Cajuns got to stick together.” Dotty hopped down off the counter and crossed the wood floor.

She was right about the first rush. Thank goodness most everyone started off the night with bottles of beer or pitchers. A half an hour had gone by before someone even asked for a Jack and Coke. It was after that when Flossie perched on a barstool on Jolene’s end of the bar and asked for a strawberry daiquiri.

“What in the devil are you doin’ here? After the fit you and Lucy threw about me working here, I’m surprised that you even set foot in the Gator.” Jolene made the drink and put it on the bar.

Flossie handed her a bill. “Havin’ a daiquiri. Listenin’ to a little music and . . .” She leaned across the bar and crooked her finger for Jolene to come closer. “Makin’ sure that Lucy ain’t here. Some old gray-haired guy came today and flirted with her. Said he was comin’ to the bar to do a little dancin’ tonight.”

“And if she is? Isn’t that her business?” Dotty joined them from the other end.

“Hell, no! It’s my business.” Flossie sipped her daiquiri and gave her a thumbs-up sign. “If she’s on her hallelujah wagon, then we have to go to different churches with her every week—Wednesday night, Friday night, and every other event. I’m the one that catches the flak, since you have to run this bar. If Lucy’s not on the wagon, then we only have to go once a week.”

Dotty patted Jolene on the shoulder. “And when she’s on her wagon, I have to get up early on Sunday, because some of them churches have two services and she wants to go to the early one,” Dotty said. “You know she won’t come to the Gator, Flossie, because she knows what I’d say. She’s probably down at the Southern Comfort.”

Flossie’s drink sloshed as she slapped the bar with her bare hand. “Well, crap, I didn’t think of that. If I find out that she’s out drinkin’ and screwin’ around, I may not speak to her for a month.”

“Aww, if she’s doin’ that, then she’ll go to more than one service on Sunday and pray for a crop failure,” Dotty laughed.

“Crop failure?” Jolene asked.

“Honey, you go sow wild oats on Friday and Saturday nights, then you go to church to ask God for a crop failure so them wild oats don’t sprout up and grow.” Dotty giggled.

“Hey, sweet thang, could I get a pitcher of Bud Light?” A man waved a ten-dollar bill over the top of Flossie’s head.

Jolene grabbed it, drew up a pitcher full of beer, and passed it between Flossie and the guy next to her. “Change?”

“Naw, dawlin’, you keep that.” He winked.

“Thank you.” Jolene put the price of the pitcher in the register, shoved what was left of the bill into her apron pocket, and used a bar rag to clean up the spilled drink. “So do you see this guy that’s about to push Lucy off the amen bus?”

Flossie spun around on the stool and scanned the bar. “Nope, but I sure wish I did. I’m going to finish this drink and go home. Next weekend I’ll check out the Southern Comfort if she mentions going out with him again.”

Flossie found a table with some folks she knew near the back of the bar. Jolene didn’t even notice that she was still there until a few minutes after midnight, when Dotty handed her another vanilla root beer. “Thank God you’re here. I swear this is the busiest we’ve been in five years. You must be a magnet.”

“Don’t know about that, but I’m sure glad I wasn’t workin’ the bar alone tonight,” Jolene said.

“That’s just another reason why you should quit this place and come to work for me.” Flossie parked herself on an empty barstool. “I won’t work you nearly as hard, and I’ll pay you a better salary.”

Dotty snapped a towel at her. “That’s enough out of you, or I’ll tell Lucy you was checkin’ up on her.”

Flossie ignored Dotty and focused her attention on Jolene. “Make me one of these things to go.” Flossie held up her empty glass. “If I’ve got to sit through Mass on Sunday, I should at least have something to ask forgiveness for.”

“You okay to drive?” Jolene asked.

“Honey, I come from a long line of moonshine runners. My grandma and grandpa moved over here from Kentucky after Grandpa made a fortune in ’shine. I can hold my liquor and sell a dead man a new coffin, and Lucy ain’t the only one who can please a man in more than fifty ways. I’ll see you Sunday after church.”

“That ought to be fun.” Dotty grinned. “Lucy will have you and Tucker both saved, sanctified, and dehorned before we finish eating. Dammit! I wish she’d showed up here tonight so I didn’t have to go to early-morning Mass on Sunday.”

“Why don’t you just tell her you aren’t goin’?” Jolene asked.

“Only way she’ll come to the inn is if we go to church first, so she can ward off that devil Tucker Malone. She thinks he might seduce her.” Flossie laughed so hard that black mascara streaks rolled down her cheeks.