She slipped into a wary sleep, half in reverie and yet alert to the sounds of the street. Icouldn’t have cared less. He shot a look at the waitress, her back tothem now, as she ladled up navy bean soup from the stainless steel tureen in the steam table. ” Another record dropped onto the turntable and Stevie Wonder blew hard into his harmonica andstarted singing, “I Was Born to Love Her.
His long hair had been neatly combed for theevening television appearance, and in a suit he looked anachronistic, like King Kong in knickers. He ordered a cheeseburger and french fries. It was the first time in many years that she hadperformed that almost religious Hollywood act: the deep-frying. We did a dog-leg and turned up another street, in as hideous a condition as theone we’d just left, following a white arrow-sign that said DOWNTOWN TI.
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