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“That’s how liabilities get you,” she said with a pointed finger and tilt of her head.

He dragged a hand down his face, already revising. “Okay. Fine. I’ll keep the smoked rosemary, ditch the charcoal, figure out another way to make it look haunted.”

Layla nodded. “Good. Because the last thing this place needs is to become responsible for nine separate pregnancies by last call.”

Hakeem let out a startled laugh that he hadn’t realized he needed. It came sharper than expected, almost boyish, and for a second, it cut through the weird static that had been living under his skin since the move.

He looked back at the drink.

The White Lighter.

A stupid, perfect name. A name he was absolutely using in spite, if nothing else.

Tabbi appeared at the end of the bar as if summoned by the scent of unapproved experimentation. “Why,” she said, not even breaking stride, “does it smell like something holy caught fire?”

Hakeem straightened. “I’m developing a new cocktail.”

“With whose permission?”

“Art’s!”

Tabbi came closer, took in the singed rosemary sprig, the dark surface of the drink, Layla’s expression of weary disgust, and Hakeem’s face, which still held traces of self-congratulation.

“What’s in it? Name?”

“The White Lighter.” Tabbi raised an eyebrow. Hakeem continued. “Tequila, lime, smoked rosemary, and⁠—”

Layla cut in. “No activated charcoal. He has seen the light.”

Tabbi stopped, then very slowly looked at Hakeem with what could be described as wary dread.

He lifted one hand. “In my defense, I remembered before we served it to anyone.”

“In your defense,” Tabbi said, “you are very beautiful, which has allowed you to survive mistakes that would kill a lesser employee.”

“That is the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me, Tabbi.”

“It isn’t meant to be kind,” she said. Then she took the glass, tasted it, her gaze going distant. “Unfortunately, that’s excellent.”

Hakeem brightened. “Thank you.”

“It still sounds like a suicide pact.” Another sip. “Keep the name.”

Layla pointed at her. “See?”

“Lose the activated charcoal,” Tabbi said. “I am not discussing compromised contraception with ownership because you wanted a prettier garnish.”

“That was already the consensus.”

Tabbi handed the glass back. “Write down the build before you forget it.”

Then she turned and kept walking, muttering into her headset, “If anyone has put dry ice in a guest beverage without checking with me first, I will become unforgettable.”

Hakeem looked at the drink in his hand.

The smoke from the rosemary had thinned to almost nothing now, but the whole thing still looked faintly dangerous under the low red lights.

Layla bumped his shoulder with hers as she passed. “You know this means you’re naming it after him now.”