Myra said, “Maybe Dillon’d fix it for you.”
“You think he would?” Roxy sounded eager.
Myra nodded. “I guess he’d be glad to. I’ll speak to him when he blows in.” The look of uncertainty came back.
“Ain’t he around?” Roxy sounded disappointed. “I loped to see that guy.”
Myra shook her head. “I’m worried,” she said. “He ain’t given me a buzz or nothin’.”
Roxy leant back. “Well, he’ll be along… you see.”
Myra moved about the room. “What’ll you drink, Roxy?” she asked.
“A rye if you’ve got it,” Roxy said. “You sure have moved up in the world.” He watched her mix the drinks, then he said casually, “You heard about Fan?”
Myra came over and gave him the rye. She shook her head. “No,” she said. “What’s Fan been doin’?”
Roxy held the glass up to the light and looked at the liquor thoughtfully. “She pulled out about three weeks ago. Left me flat. I miss that dame.”