Haz sits in the trailer for 10 hours straight, eyes trained on the patrons. If he sees the makings of a drug deal or a fight, he notifies the club’s in-house security by walkie-talkie. It amazes him how indiscreet drug dealers can be—with the bulges in their socks and their melodramatic handovers—despite the presence of security guards.

This well directed liberality and the vigilance and ability of the Cisatlantic defenders of Christianity.

The air was wine and seltzer, perfumed, as they absorbed it, with the delicate redolence of prairie flowers.

They were going to stay in and read, but instead went out shopping.