Once bitten and all that jazz, most people knew enough to get the hell out of Dodge, or at least stay their asses home and hope the old girl took a jagged turn in a different direction.

Joe-or just Deacon as he was called by friend and foe alike-enjoyed the impromptu hurricane party going on around him, though the crowd was smaller than the one for Ivan had been. Located in a pre-World War Uno era five-story brick edifice in the old part of town, Deacon's had survived countless storms, including the monsters Ivan, Katrina, and Frederick. Plenty of time to batten down the hatches, as they say.ĭeacon's Place was Joe Deacon's now, his daddy's before him, and his daddy's before him.

The good news was it was a small, fast-moving storm and it was only five in the afternoon. Inside, the five flat-screen televisions mounted on various walls were tuned to each of the local stations offering nonstop coverage as Hurricane Sally loomed in the Gulf of Mexico.Ī Category Four, Sally was due to make landfall sometime after midnight and Deacon's bar in downtown Mobile was right smack-dab in the crosshairs of the predicted path. Outside the storm clouds swirled ominously against a pewter gray sky. To my husband for his support and for living with me and my 'voices.' No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Īll rights reserved.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

Six Ways from Sunday by Mercy Celeste