“So how did you get out of jail?”

“I’m gettin’ there. I’ll be done by the time ya finish
that draft. When we left Charlie’s, she gave me an eyeful and
I knew right there it was gonna be a long night,” Trax said.

“Where was Bud when all this was going on?”

“Where do-ya think? The Menopause lounge. He headed
on over to the Adobe Bar with some older gal who breeds
shitzu dawgs. His Cutlass wasn’t runnin’ right so he
wanted me to come fix it again. I told him not to buy that
piecea shit. On a wet night the front rotors of that sum’ bitch’ll
rust out.” Trax motioned for another can of Stroh’s and he grabbed the nearly empty box of Marlboro reds conveniently
stashed in his sleeve t-shirt. “Want one?”

“Sure, I probably owe you a pack by now.”

“Anyway – me ‘n Tina was gettin’ hot and heavy so we headed up on over to Mike’s where it’s a little more cozy than Charlies,” Trax said as he ashed his cigarette on the floor by flicking the butt.