CHAPTER 3
Houston drove on out the highway to a little roadhouse he used to frequent. It was about 3 in the afternoon, but the parking lot was already crowded. He parked in the back – in the only available parking place – and went around front. Just as he reached the door it slammed open and a visibly drunk man was sent sprawling head first into the gravel parking lot. His hat soon landed nearby. Laughter followed the man and his hat out of the door. He laid there for a minute, then got up cussing a blue streak. Houston ducked inside the door. As his eyes adjusted to the lower level of light in the bar, he spied an empty bar stool. He walked across the peanut shell-strewn floor and sat down and ordered a Lone Star before swiveling around to watch the folks out on the dance floor. He tapped his toe to the new George Strait song that was blaring out of speakers that were strategically placed around the building. Just then someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see who it was – and the lights went out.