“Couple of drinks,” I ordered.
“What’s yours?” he asked Rosalind.
“Same old stuff. This guy is wise to the joint, Joe. Don’t bother with the hooey. Just bring me the cold tea. You’ll get the dough.”
“Yours?” Joe asked me, grinning.
“Gin and Seven-Up.”
Rosalind and I finished our drinks at the pinball machine. “You going back?” she asked.
“Perhaps.”
“Marilyn wants me to stay with you.”
“Why not? Come on over and meet Emory.”
“You aren’t sore, are you?”