I swing off the chair and jander away. I see the counter-man trying to get up the juice to tell me I owe him money, so I shoot back over my shoulder, "It’s on her tab," and I’m out onto the street. A Lone Star bike cop cruises by slowly, giving me the once-over. I grin at him, pull back the sides of my jacket to show I’m not carrying heat. He scowls and rides on.