The crowd hesitated. Then, one by one, they filed out, unsure if they had just been insulted or blessed. The bartenders looked at Johnny for direction. He waved them off.
“You want entertainment?” Johnny stood up, smoothing his jacket. “Watch this.”
Johnny Dark smiled, tucked the phone away, and started walking. The neon bled behind him. For the first time in years, the entertainment wasn’t a performance.
Johnny smiled—a rare, real thing that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Exactly. Go home. Call someone you actually like. Read a book. Get confused. The party was never here. It was the excuse not to live.”
