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  "Coming right up." The night was young, but Hal was already exhausted. Last night had been dead in here, but tonight's crowd came seeking hot wings and cold drinks at Thursday night prices. Though he normally shared the bar with another 'tender, the other guy had called off. Hal had to work the crowd alone. That, on top of a heavy day of classes and little sleep for the past few weeks--he wasn't exactly feeling like Tom Cruise in the movie where he flung the bottles around.

  "Hal, you got those wings ready yet?" Sandy, the waitress, stepped behind the bar to grab a couple of beers.

  Hal glanced over his shoulder to check the counter next to the kitchen doors. "Not out yet, Sandy. Sorry."

  "Shoot." Sandy blew a strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes. "They're gonna start screaming for blood instead of blue cheese."

  "Another drink?" the blonde asked impatiently, wiggling her paper umbrella at Hal.

  He nodded, pushed past Sandy and headed for the blender. "Right away."

  "Hey, buddy, can I get another couple of shots over here?"

  "Waiting on daiquiri!"

  "How about a rum and Coke?"

  Where are they all coming from? Hal felt like he was being attacked by a bunch of zombies, only ones that weren't hungry for flesh. This crowd of creeping undead wanted booze.

  He poured drinks, passed platters of wings and generally tried to keep from being bowled over by the crowd. Hal wouldn't have said he was enjoying himself, but there was a sense of relief in the brain-numbing repetition of the tasks before him. It gave his mind a rest from the constant cycle of thoughts about Laila.

  Everything was going along like a well-orchestrated waltz. It wasn't until Sandy came back behind the bar again that Hal remembered he was a terrible dancer.

  The beer went flying, aided by the hot wings. Hal crunched broken glass and blue cheese under foot while Sandy yelped. The bar groaned collectively.

  "I'll get the mop," Sandy said. She patted him on the arm. "Don't worry about it, Hal."

  Wearily, Hal began sweeping up glass and gunk. The restless, booze-craving zombies shuffled impatiently at the bar, muttering amongst themselves. What perfect metaphor for my life, Hal thought with more than a little bitterness. Shattered heart and gunked-up emotions. If he could sweep away the five days he'd spent with Laila as easily as he swept away the broken glass, he'd be set.

  "Hal, buddy!"

  The familiar voice automatically set Hal's jaw even as he turned. Rick had muscled his way up to the bar, seeming not to notice the nasty glares he got from the other customers. He rapped the bar top with his knuckles.

  "Dude, grab me a beer, will ya?"

  Hal held up the broom. "I'm a little busy here, Rick."

  It took Rick a moment to look around and see he wasn't the only person in the room. A long, painful moment. "Oh, sure, man. Yeah. Whatever. I'll wait for it."

  Shaking his head, Hal finished clearing the floor of the worst of the mess, then set about filling all the drink orders. Surprisingly, once he'd found his rhythm again, clearing away the backlogged crowd didn't take very long. Or maybe they were afraid I'll drop a plateful of wings on them, Hal thought.

  Once the free Happy Hour snack buffet opened up, the undead moved away from the bar to scarf down cheese sticks, onion rings, and a plethora of other fried bar fare. Hal actually found himself with a moment to breathe. Sandy took the opportunity for a smoke break. Rick sat at the bar and drank his beer.

  "I'm on another date." Rick spoke up when it became clear Hal had a free minute.

  Hal, who'd been hoping for the chance to grab a sandwich from the kitchen, managed a smile. "You're on a roll. Uh, dude."

  "Dude!" It seemed Rick could make just that one word mean any number of things, just by using a different tone of voice. This time it clearly meant he was happy. "And man, this babe is sweet!"

  "Yeah?" Hal asked, not really caring. His stomach grumbled, especially when he looked out and saw the zombies chowing down like the world was about to end. When Sandy got back, he'd get something to eat.

  Rick made a waving motion with his hand and jerked his head back and forth. "Oh, yeah. Dude, she is a hottie! And I think she really digs me."

  "Good for you," Hal said, keeping his eye out for Sandy's return. "Dude."

  "Dude!" Rick replied with a sly grin. "She made an emergency request for me, man. Whitehead cancelled my other gig 'cause this babe was so hot for me."

  "Cool," Hal said. Finally, he spotted Sandy weaving her way through the crowd back to the bar.

  "I'm getting laid for sure tonight," Rick said. "And I won't even have to fake it with this babe. Let me tell you, man, she is hot!"

  "You said that," Hal told him. Rick's rambling was becoming more than just background noise. It was starting to get on his nerves. "Hey, Sandy!"

  "I thought she might want to go to Wanda's Beach Club or someplace." Rick shrugged. "But she insisted we come here. Whatever. Dude, one place to get beer's as good as any, am I right?"

  "Especially when you're not paying for it," Hal said absently. Sandy had gotten hung up in a gaggle of mini-skirted singletons who appeared to be asking her if their hair looked all right.

  "Dude, you are so right." Rick drained the last of his beer and Hal handed him another.

  "So where is this mystery woman?" Hal asked, not that he cared. It looked like Sandy was going to be a few more minutes.

  "She had to hit the ladies'. Freshen herself up for me, you know." Rick let out a lusty chuckle that made Hal grimace. "Dude!"

  "Dude," Hal agreed. His stomach protested its chronic emptiness again, and he decided he couldn't wait any longer. "I'll be right back, all right? If anyone comes up, just tell them to wait a second."

  "Sure, man." Rick happily went back to sucking down his draft.

  Hal put in a quick order for a roast beef sandwich and fries, then ducked back to the bar. The crowd still hovered around the buffet, though the contents of most of the warming trays had been demolished. Rick's date had finally made it back from the bathroom.

  They'd moved to the far end of the bar. Rick had his arm around the lady fair who was perusing the crowd. From the back, she looked slim with sleek dark hair that reminded him disconcertingly of Laila's. When she turned around, Hal saw why. The woman with Rick was Laila.

  No. It couldn't be. Laila with Rick, of all people? Why had she hired another LoveMatch escort? The sight of her with another man, another paid man, punched him in the gut.

  Hal took a step back, forgetting he had no place to go. Sandy finally managed to work her way through back to him, and now she chirped perkily, "If you need a break or something--"

  "I'll take it," Hal said.

  He stepped out from behind the bar, heading for the door, just as Laila turned and saw him.

  "Hal!" she cried, but he ignored her.

  He pushed through the crowd, slammed through the doors, and was gone.

  "Babe, you know Kessler?" Rick asked her, holding her by the arm as Laila tried to go after Hal.

  "Yes," Laila said impatiently, shaking him off. "That's why I wanted to come here. Because you knew him."

  "Huh?"

  She didn't have time to explain to Rick, who was easy on the eyes but incredibly difficult on the intellect. "Listen, Rick, I've got to go."

  "But--wait!" Rick called after her. Laila didn't turn, even when she heard him cry forlornly, "Dude?"

  The crowd seemed determined to keep her from getting out. She dodged one couple grappling in the first stages of drunken courtship, then had to squeeze between a group of women huddled together around a high table. Determined she would catch up to Hal if it meant driving her heel into some poor slob's instep, Laila pushed her way through the throng.

  "Hal!" she cried to the night, but he was gone.

  She searched the street from side to side, and didn't see him. Her heart hit the pavement, followed by her stomach, but then she looked again. She saw just a flash of his yellow shirt as he turned the corner into an al