Gehenna, 1942 “Delilah, another Schlitz!” Herald called from the end of the bar. He slid his arm around Deloris and pressed a kiss to her temple. Tomorrow he’d be in here with Trudy, his wife, who was no doubt home with the kids now. I put down the chipped mug I’d just washed to grab his beer—low head like he likes it. Dolores takes her whiskey on the rocks. She also prefers not to speak to me. It’s not my fault Herald stares at my ass. Familiar headlights crawl across the slice of gravel outside, and the front end of Mettie’s black Chevy slides into view. My lips curl into…