“No, thanks. I couldn’t do that.”
I got up and ground out my cigarette in her ash-tray. She moved her feet over and said, “Sit down here on the bed. You look like a nice boy.”
“I am,” I said.
She grinned. “What’s your name?”
“Lam.”
“What’s your first name?”
“Donald.”
“Okay, Donald. Let’s be friends. I don’t want to fight with your damned company, but I need the dough. How about putting it across for me?”
“I’ll do the best I can.”
She said, “That’s a dear. How breakfast? Had anything to eat?”