a salvage run or two and went to the second-hand stores.
A salvage run would be in my immediate future. The pickings were always better than normal at the start of the storm season.
The dead had no use for their cash or property, and I’d either claim a reward for the return of lost items or make out like a bandit when there was nobody left to inherit their possessions. Most fell into the latter category. Those with families worked hard for a place in Inner Tulsa, where they had some hope of survival.
All I needed to do to move was swing by my landlord’s place, tell him I wasn’t staying at my flop, and move on. Maybe my next place I’d have a lease, but few bothered with them.
There was no point in paperwork when the property might blow away during the next storm—and if the landlord kicked the bucket, the leasers inherited the plots. I found that gem of a law absurd, as did most of the residents, but it simplified inheritance issues.
As such, most landlords rented without leases, removing the few protections a lease offered tenants.
I wondered what it would be like to live in a place with a lease.
I sighed, and rather than pay a visit to my landlord, I headed for the first of my jobs. Waitressing at McCoy’s Bar & Grill earned enough money to pay the rent on my flop but little else. Located barely within Inner Tulsa, the restaurant drew in crowds from all over the city, as my boss had one of the few liquor licenses required to import from abroad. The import rules never failed to amaze me.
Why regulate liquors from abroad? It wasn’t like there were many brewers or distillers left in the Alley. They’d either died or moved to safer waters. But if people wanted Scotch, ales from Europe, or anything other than piss-water beers, they had a choice of five bars across Tulsa.
McCoy’s varieties drew folks from Asylum who were looking for a drink.
It amazed me my boss hadn’t gotten the prized invitation to move into Asylum yet. I figured it was only a matter of time, unless Benedict Mansfield meant for Asylum to be a dry city.
I wished him the best of luck with that venture. After a hard blow, everyone went for a drink.
One day, if my luck turned around, I’d be able to afford a round.
When my boss, Brent McCoy, had built his bar, he’d gone with a stone foundation, put logs over that, and finished the top of the building in brick, which made the whole place stick out. It worked; the two-storied monstrosity caught attention, and the large wooden sign over the door promised foreign brews.
I headed in and made it all of five steps before Gertrude, a German import who kept swearing she’d go back to her home land one day, caught sight of me. “You’re early.”
With Gertrude, blunt and direct worked best—and she needed money just like everyone else living in the outskirts. “Want my shift? Something came up.”
Gertrude frowned. “Somebody die?”
“Not one of mine, but I need a new flop, so I have to deal with that today.” I’d let her assume the storm had taken out my old place. “Game?”
“I’m game. Brent’s upstairs.”
“Pass the word for me?”
“You got it. Will you be back tomorrow?”
It would be the equivalent of painting a target on my back, but I needed the money, and I doubted I could salvage enough to cover missing two shifts. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Be careful.” Gertrude hesitated. “I got a flop in Inner Tulsa. We could share. They’re saying the storms are going to be getting worse. I heard the radio this morning.”
A chill swept through me. “What was on the radio?”
“They think tonight’s swarms are going to be even worse than this morning. They’re recommending anyone in the outskirts to get out or take shelter. The storm is expected to hit at five. I’m saving up to get out. I’ll go to the East and back to Germany from there. If I save every penny, I’ll have enough in two months.”
Two months was a long time during storm season. “How much do you need?”
“A hundred will get me to the East.”
I figured she wasn’t willing to cut and run; few were. I figured she had someone she didn’t want to leave behind. “Who are you waiting for?”
“My aunty. But I don’t know if she’ll go. She loves Tulsa too much.”
“You got the cash to go now?”
“Twenty