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An hour before everything changed, Reagan slipped on her fishnets, Florida Gators t-shirt, sensible sneakers, and kissed Oscar goodbye, telling him Don’t cry, Mommy will be back tonight.
Oscar had started crying. She left quickly, before she started too.
The day remained normal as she boarded the bus heading south into the Clearwater Beach business district, ignoring the familiar side-eye stares at her get-up.
Reagan didn’t figure it would be a particularly busy day at Rio’s Bar & Grill. Surely not even the tourists would be coming in droves to drink beer in a dive bar off the main drag on Easter Sunday. Rio’s main attraction was the nighttime fun, and the sturdy bar-top built for dancing whenever a fistful of particular upbeat country songs circled around on the jukebox ever
