Chapter 65

           BackinL.A.,therewasalmostaweekofpeace.Thenthephonerang.ItwastheownerofaManhattanBeachnightclub,MartySeavers.Ihadreadthereacoupleoftimesbefore.TheclubwascalledSmack-Hi.

           "Chinaski,IwantyoutoreadaweekfromFriday.Youcanpickupabout$450."

           "Allright."

           Rockgroupsplayedthere.Itwasadifferentaudiencethanatthecolleges.TheywereasobnoxiousasIwasandwecursedoneanotherbetweenpoems.Ipreferredit.

           "Chinaski,"Martysaid,"youthinkyouhavetroublewithwomen.Letmetellyou.TheoneI’vegotnowhasawaywithwindowsandscreens.I’llbesleepingandshe’llappearinthebedroomat3or4am.She’llshakeme.Itscarestheshitoutofme.Shestandsthereandsays,’Ijustwantedtomakesureyouweresleepingalone!’"

           "Deathandtransfiguration."

           "Theothernight,I’msittingandthere’saknockonthedoor.Iknowit’sher.Iopenthedoorandsheisn’tthere.It’s11pmandI’minmyshorts.I’vebeendrinkingandI’mworried.Irunoutsideinmyshorts.Ihadgivenher$400worthofdressesforherbirthday.Irunoutsideandtherearethedresses,ontheroofofmynewcar,andthey’reonfire,they’reburning!Irunuptopullthemoffandsheleapsoutfrombehindabushandstartsscreaming.TheneighborslookoutandthereIaminmyshorts,burningmyhands,snatchingthedressesofftheroof."

           "Shesoundslikeoneofmine,"Isaid.

           "O.K.,soIfiguredwewerethrough

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