"The usual, Lenny?" he asked, pouring a shot without waiting for an answer.
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "Just passing through," she said, her voice husky.
Lenny nodded. He knew a thing or two about hiding. He pulled out his horn and began to play, the notes weaving a spell of sadness and longing. The girl closed her eyes, and Lenny felt like he was playing just for her.
Lenny took the shot, feeling the burn all the way down. He spotted a young girl sitting in the corner, her eyes locked on his. She was a looker, with curves that could stop a clock and a smile that could start one again. Lenny ambled over, his horn case slung over his shoulder.
