"Let me get this one," Oliver said.
"It's no use." George pushed his empty glass across the bar. "That was a great party at your place. Eats. Bazumas."
"Jacky," Oliver said.
"And that Martha chick—the real estate chick—she wants to look at my paintings. Maybe she'll buy one."
"She's got the money," Oliver said. "Sell her a big one and go down and paint Jacky."
"I'd like to," George said. "Something about her . . ."
"Yeah," Oliver said. "Those were the days." Oliver had thought life was complicated when he used to drive over the bridge to Jacky's. " Bazumas!" he toasted.
"The finest," George said.
A pint later, Oliver reached in his pocket for tip money and felt a small thick square. On his way back to the parking garage he dropped Suzanne's note carefully into a city trash container.
20.