Prologue "And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man." —A. E. Housman, "Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff" Kaye took another drag on her cigarette and dropped it into her mother's beer bottle. She figured that would be a good test for how drunk Ellen was—see if she would swallow a butt whole. They were up on stage still, Ellen and Lloyd and the rest of Stepping Razor. It had been a bad set and watching them break down the equipment, she could see that they knew it. It didn't really matter, the sound system was loud and scratchy and everyone had kept drinking and smoking and shouting so she doubted the manager minded. There had even been a little dancing. The bartender leered at her again and offered her a drink "on the house." "Milk," Kaye smirked, brushing back her ragged, blond hair and pocketing a couple of matchbooks when his back was turned. Then her mother was next to her, taking a deep swallow of the beer before spitting it all over the counter. Kaye couldn't help the wicked laughter that escaped her lips. Her mother looked at her in disbelief. "Go help load up the car," Ellen said, voice hoarse from singing. She was smoothing damp hair back from her face.