Fanquist got up. “I guess we’d better get goin’,” she said to Roxy. “I gotta job of work to do.”
Roxy pushed his chair away and nodded Jo Myra. “We’ll be seein’ you.”
Fanquist turned to Dillon and gave him one of her ‘any-time-you-say-so’ smiles.
“Bye, big boy,” she said. “Don’t let this babe get too many big ideas.”
Dillon grunted.
Myra watched them go. “That little curdle-puss thinks she’s smart,” she said furiously. “She’d better keep her claws off you.”
Dillon sat back. “You’ve got a lot to worry about, ain’t you?” he sneered.
Hurst snapped his fingers, calling the waiter. He paid his check and got up. Myra watched him walk across the room and go into the street. Two tough-looking birds, sitting by the door, got up and followed him. Through the doorway she saw them get into a big powerful car and drive off.
Dillon said, “That guy might get me somewhere.”
Myra said softly, “You don’t need guys like that. You can get sky-high playin’ solo.”