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exchanged a glance and followed her out. The half-dozen other staff and volunteer musicians were standing outside on the sidewalk. We all waited, watching, while Doc flipped off the lights and shut the door. She turned to face us, readjusting her bag. She pulled a bottle of whiskey and a stack of plastic glasses out if it, and poured us each a shot right there on the street. Everyone took a glass. More than one passerby stopped and stared at us.
    Doc’s face had that same look it always did, serious and slightly sad, as if she knew every terrible secret in the world and was protecting you from the horror of it all by keeping quiet. “To the Center,” she said.
    “To the Center!” we all chorused, and clinked glasses. The sound of plastic on plastic was unsatisfying. While Doc wasn’t looking, I took a gulp from Avery’s.
    “It’s been an honor,” Doc said. “And if anyone wants to continue the funeral reception at The Twisted Elbow, that’s where I’ll be.”
    A cluster of volunteers followed her, but Avery and I hung back. “Doctor’s appointment,” she said. “And, you know.” She glanced at her still-flat belly with a look between a grin and a grimace. “What about you?”
    “I think I’d better see about finding somewhere to live.”
    “Oh, Mina—”
    “I’ll be okay.” I waved her off. “I’ve still got almost a week and a half.” It was a good thing Avery was a normal, because a telepath would’ve felt me panicking from a mile away. “I’m really happy for you,” I said, and meant it. “Will I see you again before you leave?”
    “I hope so.” She pulled me into a hug. “Let’s make sure of it.”
    Avery said goodbye and walked toward her car, and I headed for one of the few remaining local coffee shops in the neighborhood. It was a dimly lit, smoky place, full of questionable local art and rickety tables, but the coffee was cheap and no one ever asked you to leave. No time like the present to start hunting through the apartment listings.
    Two hours and three cups of coffee later, I’d found out just how quickly the San Francisco housing market moved. Every listing I called had dozens of other applicants. Some of them were filled after being posted less than a day. I was almost relieved when I had to leave messages—at least it wasn’t a no. I was checking out a semi-reasonably priced studio, which turned out to be reasonably priced because it was two hours away by train, when my phone rang.
    I picked it up so fast I almost dropped it. Someone calling me back already?
    “Yes? Hello?”
    “Hey there, gorgeous.”
    It was Malik. I slumped in the uncomfortable wooden coffee shop chair. My butt was numb. “Hey.”
    “Nice to hear from you too.” He laughed. “Who sat on your cupcake?”
    “Nobody. It’s nothing. What’s up?”
    “You, ah, missing anything?”
    “Yeah, a job.”
    “Seriously?”
    “For now.” I rubbed my face. I was so completely fucked.
    “Well, you left your fiddle here last night. I’ve got it behind the bar. You want to come and pick it up?”
    “Shit.” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten it.
    “I’m here now if you wanna swing by.”
    “See you soon, then.” It wasn’t as if I had anything else to do.
    The speakeasy wasn’t far, so I saved the Muni fare and walked. The sidewalk got narrower and more uneven as I went, and the concentration of produce stands and liquor stores went up. The neighborhood around Featherweight’s had managed to escape gentrification, at least so far. Anywhere else in the city, the abandoned car dealership next door would’ve been turned into a towering condo development months ago. I felt sure its time was coming.
    I couldn’t get into the speakeasy myself, so I had to call Malik from my cell phone once I got to Featherweight’s. He told me to go to the broom closet, so I let myself in and waited in the dark until the second door opened to reveal Jackson’s cousin Paulie holding a glass of something amber