Chapter 48

           IwassittingwithananarchistfromBeverlyHills,BenSolvnag,whowaswritingmybiographywhenIheardherfootstepsonthecourtwalk.Iknewthesound-theywerealwaysfastandfranticandsexy-thosetinyfeet.Ilivedneartherearofthecourt.Mydoorwasopen.Tammieranin.

           Wewerebothintoeachother’sarms,huggingandkissing.

           BenSolvnagsaidgoodbyeandwasgone.

           "Thosesonsofbitchesconfiscatedmystuff,allmystuff!Icouldn’tmaketherent!Thatdirtyson-of-a-bitch!"

           "I’llgooverthereandkickhisass.We’llgetyourstuffback."

           "No,hehasguns!Allkindsofguns!"

           "Oh."

           "Mydaughterisatmymother’s."

           "Howaboutsomethingtodrink?"

           "Sure."

           "What?"

           "Extradrychampagne."

           "O.K."

           Thedoorwasstillopenandtheafternoonsunlightcameinthroughherhair-itwassolongandsoreditburned."CanItakeabath?"sheasked."Ofcourse.""Waitforme,"shesaid.

           Inthemorningwetalkedaboutherfinances.Shehadmoneycomingin:childsupportplusacoupleofunemploymentcheckswithmoretocome.

           "There’savacancyintheplaceinback,rightaboveme."

           "Howmuchisit?"

           "$105withhalfoftheutilitiespaid."

           "Ohhell,Icanmakethat.Dotheytakechildren?Achild?"

           "Theywill.I’vegotpull.Iknowthemanagers."

           BySundayshewasmovedin.Shewasrightaboveme.ShecouldlookintomykitchenwhereItypedmythingsonthebreakfastnooktable.

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