“To hell with the spring leaf.”
We were crashing into a little eucalyptus grove beside the road. The Greek had sent us down to the market to take back some T-bone steaks he said were lousy, and on the way back it had got dark. I slammed the car in there, and it bucked and bounced, but when I was in among the trees I stopped. Her arms were around me before I even cut the lights. We did plenty. After a while we just sat there. “I can’t go on like this, Frank.”
“Me neither.”
“I can’t stand it. And I’ve got to get drunk with you, Frank. You know what I mean? Drunk.”
“I know.”
“And I hate that Greek.”
“Why did you marry him? You never did tell me that.”
“I haven’t told you anything.”
“We haven’t wasted any time on talk.”
“I was working in a hash house. You spend two years in a Los Angeles hash house and you’ll take the first guy that’s got a gold watch.”