Josh Anders was still in Merlotte's, sitting at the table he had occupied all night, finishing the last of a very warm, very flat beer. He was waiting for his brother to pick him up. He had had one of those miserable days where nothing had gone right and had spent the entire night washing away the memory of his lousy day with one beer after another. One thing about Sam's place – you could drink yourself into a stupor and Sam made sure you got home all right.

More than one customer had made the return trip to the bar to pick up their car the morning after overindulging because Sam had confiscated their car keys and arranged a ride home for the inebriated. And you damned well had better be ready to surrender those keys; Sam wasn't above slashing a tire or two to keep you off the road. To make matters worse, if Sam got wind that somebody had been driving after drinking too much at his bar, that somebody was not welcome to return. Sam was a stickler about that. Truth was, Sam cared about folks, but hid his concern out of some misplaced sense of masculine pride. He'd even gone as far as telling Lafayette once that drunks made good repeat customers, but dead ones didn't put money in the till. Lafayette gave Sam's pronouncement all the consideration it was worth – which wasn't much.

The excessive indulgence in alcohol had brought out the boor in Anders, and he had been making a pest of himself all night with the waitresses as well as some of the female customers. Usually Sam's staff gave as good as they got, but tonight Sookie just wasn't up to it. She had been more vulnerable than usual and had been reduced to simple avoidance. And tonight was one night when Josh just didn't take the hint. He saw Sookie standing with Tara, got up, and stumbled over to the pair.