---

For ten years, Karaoke Night at the El Corazon Disco Lounge had been Veronica’s special time with Joe. He came along for moral support, sitting in the front row, sipping Jack Daniels, beaming up at her, nodding his head to the music, snapping his fingers like he was in a jazz café instead of a square cinderblock honky tonk that attracted the down-and-out and the dangerous. He was the one who encouraged her. He was the one who pointed out that she was actually earning fans at Karaoke Night. And to tell the truth, he was the one who emboldened her to start a band, The Lonesome Rangers, which was now, confounding every expectation, becoming something big.

Tonight, she was without the band, with only the karaoke machine, here to sing “Angel from Montgomery” to Joe, something she had done every Tuesday since his death. Singing to him made her hover on the edge of herself, like nothing mattered except the words, forming them into the most perfect shape she could – so maybe Joe could hear them.

Bit Riley, the bartender, introduced her and the music started and people hushed each other, every seat taken at the sea of cabaret tables in the center of the room, many of the men straddling backwards chairs, baseball hats tipped up. As Bit left the stage and Veronica approached the microphone, she squeezed his thick wrist, always expecting somehow to feel the tattoos there, like Braille. “Thank you, Sugar,” she said to him, and he flashed her a rare smile...