Kyle's prediction was correct: Faith sat in the balcony and watched Raven work the show without missing a beat over the new lighting cues. The Saturday night crowd had been larger, but the Sunday act with a smaller audience seemed looser, more convivial. Raven vamped a little more than the she had the first two shows the Slayer had watched, flirted a little more shamelessly with the old guys, commiserated a little more theatrically with the ladies, and the lights came up on a room filled with good feelings.

"She always jacked up on Sunday nights?" Faith asked as she stood with Kyle at the foot of the stairs. The crowd was gone; they were alone in the darkened theater.

"She puts a little extra spin on the ball, yeah." Kyle's head tilted back and rested against the wall. "The casino's a lot fuller on weekends, but Saturday's the peak. A bunch of the casuals leave on Sunday afternoon. The ones who come to the Sunday show, they're the ones who took one last turn around the slots before they came here, or they'll hit the floor one more time. Either way, they drop a lot of money, so Raven gives them a little extra, I think to either send 'em home feeling happy or get 'em pumped for one more round."

"Makes sense." Faith crossed her arms. "She said we get Mondays off?"

"Theater's actually closed on Monday," Kyle said as they headed toward the door. "You probably get Tuesday off, too. It's a skeleton show."

"Okay, so I'm off tomorrow." Faith yanked open the door and turned toward him, light spilling over her from the hallway. "Whatta you do in this town?"

"Not much." Kyle shrugged, his face half in darkness. "There's a state park about a half-hour away, there's the movies, they're about a half-hour the other way."

"Wow, regular Sin City." They walked down the hall side by side.

"Yeah, it's not exactly Paris in the '20s."

"So, what are you doing tomorrow?"

Kyle stopped, the bag dangling from his hand. "Probably… work on my truck a little bit, maybe go to the movies after that?"

"What's playing?" Faith cocked her hips and raised an eyebrow.

"I honestly don't know. I'll probably just pick one when I get there." He blinked. "Are you… Would you like to hang out?"

Faith looked around, nonchalance dripping from every facet of her being. "I don't know… the slow day at a casino at the ass-end of nowhere… Could be a really swingin' time."

"I, uh, I could pick you up after I'm finished with my truck."

"Nah." Faith shook her head. "I'd like to see your mechanic skills."

Kyle looked slightly dazed. "Uh, okay, I, um, ten-thirty good?"

"Good as gold." Faith pushed past him and headed toward the elevator. "See you in the morning, Sparky."

Apparently ten-thirty meant ten-twenty to Kyle, so Faith stumbled out of the elevator to find him waiting in the lobby, keys in hand. He blinked when he saw her. "They didn't serve you here, did they?" he asked.

"No, dumbass. Why?" Her voice was a bit raspy.

"Uh, no reason." He shrugged. "I guess I really don't want to see you with a hangover."

The Slayer glared at him. "Hangovers focus me." She blinked and shook her head. "Okay, you ready? What's the schedule?"

"Well, you wanted to watch me work on the truck, so I thought we'd go to my house and do that, then go grab some lunch and a movie. That sound okay?"

"Five by five," Faith grumbled. "Hey, I may take a little nap on the way."

Kyle lived in a small frame house with wood siding, a two-step concrete stoop, and a small detached garage. The interior of the garage was unfinished and neat, with a clean-swept concrete floor and a workbench along the far wall. Faith clambered out of the truck's cab as Kyle popped open a toolbox.

"What're you doing?" Faith asked.

"Oh, gotta fix a brake light. Police pulled me over the other night, let me off with a warning." Kyle fished around behind the truck's seat and came out with a small brown paper bag. "You know what a Phillips-head screwdriver is?" he asked.

"Lemme see… duh."

Kyle nodded. 'There's one on the pegboard above the workbench. Would you mind getting it?"

"Sure." Faith pulled the tool from its slot. "Here, catch-" She made an underhand toss.

"Thanks." Kyle snagged the screwdriver and started undoing the brake light while Faith looked around the garage. The wall studs were old wood that had darkened and hardened to the consistency of iron. The tools on the pegboard all had a silhouette traced around them.

"Hey, you afraid you'll forget where something goes?" Faith said, pointing.

Kyle looked up from his task. "I just think it's easier to make sure everything is in the right place instead of hunting for it."

"Man, Freud would love to talk about your potty training." Faith scooted up on the workbench, swinging her booted feet. Kyle finished replacing the brake light and returned the screwdriver to its proper position; Faith could barely contain her amusement.

"Ready for lunch and a movie?" he asked.

"Sure." Faith hopped down. "Where are we gonna eat?"

Kyle opened the driver side door. "There's a place down the street from the theater, serves a mean bowl of chili. Interested?"

"Depends," Faith replied, climbing into the passenger seat. "How hot?"

Kyle turned the key. "They have one called Blowtorch. Hot enough?"

Faith smirked. "Probably be disappointing."

"We can't just stand here looking like the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz," Faith hissed. "Buy something."

"But we're really drunk," Kyle murmured.

"Agreed, but standing here staring at him makes us look like murderers. After a while doing nothing means you must have done something. Here." Faith grabbed items from the rack and shoved them into Kyle's hands. "Follow my lead." She swayed down the aisle, working from the theory that the difference between drunk and hot was a matter of degree. "Hi," she said as she came around the corner of the rack. Jorge sat behind the counter, frozen, his face as stolid as a golem's.

Wes Mitchell nodded. "Good to see you. What are you guys up to?"

"Oh, you know." Faith gave an overdone shrug and an exaggerated giggle. "Got the munchies, what better place to deal than the Gas'n'Grab?"

The officer leaned a hip against the counter; his eyes twinkled. "There's the grocery store."

The Slayer shook her head, which only swam a little. "Not the same. It's like a ball-park hot dog, you dig?"

Wes nodded. "I do." He looked over her shoulder. "That's an… interesting assortment."

"Oh, yeah." Faith glanced at Kyle; the multiple packages of chips, cupcakes, and fried pies served as his anchor. "Hey, you're only young once and you can't eat this shit forever, am I right?" She looked directly into his eyes, willing her metabolism to work harder, dammit.

"Tell me about it." Wes looked at Jorge. "Can you write me up a receipt?"

Jorge nodded and reached for a pad under the counter.

Wes looked around, an exaggerated take, then spoke to Kyle. "I didn't see your truck outside."

"Nah," Faith said, waving a dismissive hand. "It's a nice night, we decided to walk."

Wes nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Well, hey, it was great to talk, but we gotta vamoose." Faith spoke over her shoulder. "You've got the money, right?" Kyle mumbled something that sounded vaguely positive. Faith could see him in the convex security mirror just above Wes Mitchell's head. Kyle dumped the various bags of salt, sugar, and fat onto the counter and dug in his pockets. He didn't look too drunk as he rifled his pockets for bills. Jorge finished writing up the receipt Wes had requested, tore it off the pad, and handed it to the officer, who folded it and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

"You guys have a nice night and… be careful, okay?" Wes arched his eyebrows as he looked down into Faith's face. The register clicked and beeped as Jorge began to ring up their purchase.

"Sure, careful, that's our middle name, well, his middle name." Faith cocked a thumb back over her shoulder.

"Uh-huh." Wes nodded and turned toward the door. "You might keep walking as your primary mode of transportation tonight." He pushed open the door and, seconds later, the cruiser pulled away.

Kyle exhaled loudly. "Okay," he said, "you can stop ringing that up."

"No way," Jorge said, his stone face splitting at last. "You want to use these as your get-out-of-jail-free card, you gotta pay."

"Come on-" Kyle began.

"Don't argue," Faith said, grabbing a Slim Jim from the pile and ripping it open. "Pay the man."

"Really? You didn't think any of it was scary?"

"Scary? No. Gross? Hells yeah." Faith wrinkled her nose. "Walking through waist-deep bat shit would be wicked disgusting, but not scary."

"Somebody's hardcore," Kyle said as he unlocked the truck's door.

"Eh, when you've-" Faith bit her tongue.

"What?" Kyle spared her a quick glance from looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking spot.

"Nothing." Faith shot him a furtive sidelong look from the corner of her eye, but he was focused on his driving. She exhaled slowly. He craned his neck to look up through the windshield at the traffic light.

"So, you didn't like it?"

"It was cheese, it was fun, it just wasn't scary." Faith rolled her eyes and settled back in the truck's bench seat. "Hey, are you gonna do this sound and light thing for long?"

Kyle shrugged as he pulled onto the highway. "Oh, yeah, it's my profession. This is just the beginning."

"Really?" Faith scooched up in the seat, intrigued. "Where can you go?"

"Oh, I mean, there's all kinds of opportunity, the Oakland Arena, or the shows in Tahoe." He glanced away. "Or Vegas. A Vegas show would be…" His voice trailed away. Faith realized that her fists were clenched; the mention of Las Vegas brought a reaction. Kyle did not notice. "That would be the big leagues, yeah."

The Slayer frowned. "The big leagues?"

"Running a Vegas show? Yeah, for a sound and light guy, that's… that's the show." Kyle grew more animated as he spoke. "There are bigger events, yeah, I mean, the Super Bowl, the Oscars, sure, but those are one-offs, y'know. But someplace like the Luxor or the Belaggio? That's, that's…" He exhaled loudly. "As far as a steady gig, I don't know if anything's better than that." Faith opened her mouth, but did not get to speak. "Sure, Broadway, a Broadway show, that would be great, sure, but mostly for the prestige, I think. As far as really being a challenge, I gotta think Vegas is Everest."

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Faith's mouth. "Sounds like."

He glanced at her. "I know it can sound lame, but I really like doing this. It's not a job, it's like, like…" He glanced out of the window as if to hide his face. "A calling, or a mission, if you can understand that."

Faith blinked; the smile froze on her face. "Yeah, sounds like."

Kyle's face stayed turned toward the windshield. "Hey, … sorry I turned on the firehose there and, uh, thanks for listening."

Now it was Faith's turn to look out the window and confront her reflection. "It's… it's cool to hear somebody be excited about something. I hope you make it."

"Thanks. Um, when we get back, what do you want-"

"Just back to the hotel." Faith bit her lip.

"Wanna get dinner?"

"No." Faith turned to face him. "Sorry if that sounded bitchy. It's been a while since I, uh, socialized, and I'm a little rusty."

Kyle looked away rather intentionally. "Well, I... I had a really good time. If you want to hang out again, maybe next Monday, I'd be down." He turned the wheel and guided the truck into the casino parking lot. As the vehicle came to a stop, Faith hopped out, then leaned back in.

"I have to check my calendar," she said, "but, if I'm free, I'd be cool with that."

"Okay," Kyle said, checking his mirror. "Why don't you let me know tomorrow."

"I thought I was off tomorrow, too."

"Oh, you are." Kyle took his foot off the brake and the truck began to roll forward. "But if you wanted to stop in and say 'hi', I wouldn't mind." He pulled away, leaving Faith standing on the curb. Finally, she smiled and shook her head.

"Dumbass," she said and stood for a few moments, realizing that she felt… fine. Loose, relaxed, just a girl coming off a nice day spent hanging out with a guy. She shook her head and went into the casino. The feeling lasted until she was in the lobby and saw the guy with the brush-cut hair and sloping forehead cross her field of view. Faith recognized that walk, the one that tried too hard to be casual but instead screamed 'I am in a hurry to get somewhere'. He crossed from left to right and went into the casino, the turn just a little too hard, too fast, and too angular for someone just strolling around the floor. Faith's eyes narrowed and she frowned for a moment, then shrugged and headed for the elevator.

Faith stepped into the empty theater. "Kyle?"

"Up here." He stepped out from behind the curtain that had muffled his voice.

"Oh, hey. You need any help?"

"No, not right now." He ducked behind the curtain, then his head popped out again. "You doing anything special?"

"I thought I'd walk into town, see if there's anything interesting." She stuck her hands in the hip pockets of her jeans. "Probably won't be, but I'm not good at being cooped up."

"Okay." The shaggy head disappeared and reappeared again. "Hey, you decide about Monday?"

Faith suppressed a smile. "Sure, it's cool… unless I find something really juicy in town."

He nodded. "If you do, let me know."

Faith gave him a thumbs-up and walked out of the theater.

She didn't find anything particularly juicy, but there was a weird old antique store that sold a variety of stuffed birds and mounted antlers, and a used bookstore that had a scarifying number of dog-eared romance paperbacks. In the back she found a small selection of mysteries and thrillers. She glanced at the shelf and turned to go when an author's name caught her eye. She tugged the book out of its slot and flipped over to the back; according to the blurb, the author was from Boston, which was the novel's setting. Faith carried the book to the desk.

"How much?" she asked the lady behind the counter, a woman with hair twenty years too blond for her face.

"Fifty cents."

Faith pulled out a dollar, handed it over and pocketed the change, then headed back to the casino to see if this guy could really write about Boston. She was turning toward the elevator when a voice came from behind her.

"Glynda?"

It took Faith a split-second to remember that she was 'Glynda'. Kicking herself, she turned to see Raven standing just outside the door to the theater.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you." Faith cocked her head to one side. "Isn't it close to show time?"

Raven made a bored face. "Doesn't take that long to get ready. Got a minute?"

"Sure." Faith waited for a middle-aged couple to pass, then approached Raven. "What's up?"

"It's about your living arrangements," Raven said. "As in 'do you have any'?"

"Hadn't really thought about it."

Raven nodded. "How surprising. You can only bunk in the hotel for a couple more nights, then your complimentary stay is over."

Faith considered this. "Okay."

Raven tilted her head ever-so-slightly to one side. "What're your plans?"

Faith shrugged. "Maybe it's time to get back on the bus."

"Uh-huh." Raven's skepticism was practically tangible. "Is that your usual M.O.? Hit an obstacle, run away?"

Faith's eyes flashed. "First, how is it your fucking business? Second, you don't know my life, and, third, how is it your fucking business?"

"It's not." Raven smirked. "I'm just intrigued by people who play at being tough."

Faith felt her face grow hot. "You wanna see if I'm playing?"

Raven's lips pushed out in a pout, but Faith didn't notice. The magician's eyes seemed to open, the pupils growing larger and darker until they were a well that threatened to pull the Slayer down into an abyss; Faith physically tipped forward onto her toes and took a short step to steady herself. Raven's mouth curved up in a sardonic smile.

"Sorry if I touched a nerve," she said. "But if you're hanging around, you need to find a place to stay."

"Yeah, well, I haven't noticed a lot of deluxe apartments in the sky around here." Faith rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen muscles that had suddenly knotted.

"And you haven't gotten paid yet, either," Raven pointed out, "but, if you're interested, there's three girls who work here sharing a house in town. There were four, but one of them cut out, so they're looking for a new roomie. I thought you might be interested."

"So sorry to keep beating this dead horse," Faith said, "but why do you care?"

Raven shrugged. "You're able to handle the gig and you don't seem to mind the work. I suppose you could be a criminal mastermind using this as a cover to case the casino for a heist, but… that doesn't seem your style."

This time, Faith took the step forward. "And what would be 'my style'?"

"Honestly, and I don't want to be insulting, but you seem more like 'kick the door off the hinges and blow the door off the safe' type of girl, less Hans Gruber, more Otto West."

"Yeah, well…" Faith smiled; it was cold and did not reach her eyes "...what if my favorite heist film is The Great Muppet Caper?"

Raven nodded. "Nice. If you're interested in the house, the person to see is Tamra Thompson. She's working in the restaurant tonight. Look for the biggest blond hair you can find." The magician turned toward the theater door, then looked back. "Stay, don't stay, your call, but you're out of the room on Thursday." She winked and disappeared into the theater, leaving Faith standing in the hallway and seething. She stood there until her breathing slowed and her face returned to its normal color, then turned on her heel and headed for the elevator.

'The biggest blond hair you can find' was an apt descriptor for Tamra Thompson. An enormous waterfall of curls cascaded from the top of her head down to her shoulders, while the sides were pulled straight back, giving the effect of a great golden mohawk. It was a hairstyle that caused observers to make a note to invest in Aqua-Net stock. Faith took up a position next to the service window and waited as the other young woman weaved through the tables balancing a tray of empty glasses. Tamra put the tray down on the bar with a clink of glassware, then slid over to the serving window. She wore the restaurant's uniform: a white poplin shirt with a clip-on bowtie and khaki pants cropped above the ankle.

"You Tamra?" Faith asked. The Slayer wore a long-sleeved T-shirt, a dark red with two black rings on each upper arm and around the V-neck.

The blond girl snapped her gum and eyed the Slayer from crown to heel. "Who wants to know?"

Faith gave a short eye roll. "I do, obviously."

Tamra blinked; the answer seemed to have her stumped for a moment. "Okay, why do you want to know?"

Faith sighed, then spoke through gritted teeth. "I heard you might be looking for a… for a…" she swallowed "...for a roommate."

Tamra's hands rested on her hips for a moment. "Yeah, we are, but as you can see, I'm kinda busy right now." A clatter of dishes grabbed her attention. 'That's my order. I get off at eleven. If you wanna talk to me about the house, meet me then, okay?"

Faith was leaning agsint the wall opposite the restaurant when Tamra came out wearing a warmup jacket over her uniform, navy-blue satin with red waistband, cuffs, and collar. Faith pushed away from her spot, two short steps bringing her even with the other girl. "The Sox keeping you in the pen?"

Tamra blinked. "Huh?"

Faith waved a hand. "Never mind."

"So." Tamra fed a fresh stick of gum into her mouth and began working it. "You're interested in the house?"

"Yeah."

"So, who are you?"

"I'm, uh, I'm Glynda. I just started working at the theater."

Tamra nodded and popped her gum. "With Kyle. Okay. Well, the rent's seventy-five a month each and there's two bedrooms."

Faith did the math. "And four girls. You got bunk beds in there?"

Tamra shrugged. "Cheyanne and Wendi work days, seven-to-three, and I work three-to-eleven."

"So you guys are, what, hot-mattressing it? One of you rolls out, the other rolls in?" A frown line creased Faith's forehead.

"Ew, no." Tamra stuck out her tongue in disgust. "We got two twins in each room. We're not animals." She considered her statement. "There is only one bathroom, though." She paused. "So, you interested?"

Faith crossed her arms. "I'm kinda in a time crunch, so, yeah, I'm interested."

Tamra nodded. "You should meet the other girls." Her face scrunched up. "I could get here a little early tomorrow, introduce you, then they could show you the place if you wanted."

The Slayer made a noncommittal face. "Sounds doable. Two?"

Tamra thought for a moment. "Make it two-thirty. Wendi and Cheyanne can fudge their schedules a little. Meet us behind the restaurant, okay?"

Faith turned the corner and entered a different world: the backside of the casino building was not nearly as showy and well-lit as the front. It was a long expanse of cream-colored cinderblock with several roll-up doors set into the facade, all of them matched to a concrete loading dock protruding into a wide expanse of black asphalt. The restaurant's dock was just past a green dumpster, which made Faith feel right at home. Tamra leaned against the metal band that ran around the top edge, hands in the pockets of her warmup jacket. She spied Faith approaching and nodded; the other two girls turned to face the newcomer. The Slayer felt a sharp, stinging pang of deja vu: three friends and she was the oddball again.

Wendi looked like Tamra's shadow, although Faith reflected that if she'd met Wendi first she would have thought Tamra was the shadow: that's how similar they were. Cheyanne had dark hair cut in a Rachel, high cheekbones, and pointed chin and nose. Faith nodded at each of them in turn, then crossed her arms over her chest. "You guys got any questions?"

"You walk in your sleep?" Cheyanne said.

Faith favored her with a flat look. "No."

"Snore? Talk in your sleep?"

Faith ran her tongue over her front teeth. "Never any complaints. Let me guess, your room's got the empty bed."

"Yeah." Cheyanne cocked her head to one side. "You shower every day?"

"When I can."

Wendi piped up. "Do you use drugs?"

Faith arched an eyebrow. "Do I look stupid enough to tell you if I did?"

"Listen, here's the rules." Tamra ticked them off on her fingers. "You keep your stuff picked up-"

"Not a problem," Faith said. "My shit could fit in a pillowcase."

Tamra continued unfazed. "You don't hog the hot water. If you're seeing somebody, don't bring them to the house."

"Yeah," Cheyanne said. "Last thing I need's to wake up and see you humping somebody."

"Sounds like a recent experience," Faith smirked.

"More like an educated guess," the other girl shot back.

A faint grin played around the Slayer's lips. "Is that one skank to another?"

Cheyanne offered a wary smile in return. "Sharp."

"What's your work schedule?" Wendi used her chin to point at the Slayer.

"I go in about eleven, do whatever needs done." Faith sucked on on incisor. "I've only done it for a couple days, but I know I get Mondays off, Tuesdays too, probably."

Wendi nodded, then pointed to Cheyanne. "We get Wednesday and Thursday, she-" indicating Tamra "-gets weekends."

Tamra's gum snapped like a firecracker. "Seniority."

"Respect other people's stuff, don't borrow anything without asking." Tamra continued her list.

"Yeah, hands off anything of mine," Wendi interjected.

"Lighten up, Francis," Faith growled as she rolled her eyes.

"Pay your rent on time, take showers." Tamra looked at Wendi and Cheyanne. "Anything else?" They shook their heads. "Okay, I'm clocking in. You guys show her the house."

"You wanna meet us there?" Wendi asked. "We can give you the address."

Faith shook her head. "I don't have wheels."

Cheyanne spun her car keys around an index finger. "I guess you can ride with us."