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isn’t Deerstone, then there isn’t a Deerstone,” John said.
    “There was. He sold out to Bond nearly twenty years ago,” I said. “But they kept the name because it had commercial value.”
    “We get our jobs back when the month’s up, I reckon,” Leonard said.
    “Of course,” I said. “Frankly, I feel funny taking his money. You know, I didn’t intend to, and I tell myself I did it for the guy and because Charlie convinced me, but I know deep down, hell, not that deep, that I did it because I wanted the money.”
    “Hap, you’re about the least money-oriented sonofabitch I know,” Leonard said.
    “That’s because winning all your dimes, I don’t have to worry about money.”
    “You don’t worry about money,” Leonard said, “because you’re goodhearted and haven’t got enough brains to worry about it. Hell, you didn’t do what you did for money. That was just an unexpected end result. You don’t need to feel guilty because you took it. You’d have done it had you known the girl was a pauper and that motherfucker was not only going to fight you like a tiger, but was going to win. You’d have gone on ahead anyway.”
    “I’ll take all that as a compliment. Except the lack of brains part.”
    The blonde with the black roots and the big firm butt was on our side now, the rear of her white shorts pointed in my direction. They were not only short shorts, but they flared dangerously and I could see some of the soft meat up there and a hint of pubic hair. I shifted subtly in my chair for a better look.
    “Your turn to buy,” Leonard said to me.
    I took a last look at the shorts and what was in them and went over to the bar. Marlie came up, “What’ll it be?”
    I sat on the bar stool, said, “Two Miller Drafts, a Sharps.”
    “You drink the Sharps, don’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “What for?”
    “I like it.”
    “It ain’t a diet thing?”
    “I like it.”
    “It ain’t a diet thing and you drink it?”
    “I like it.”
    “Why?”
    “There’s no alcohol in it.”
    “Hell, I thought that was why you drank beer, ’cause there’s alcohol in it.”
    “Sharps isn’t beer. Not really.”
    “You’re tellin’ me.”
    “Can I just have the Sharps?”
    Marlie finally got the beers and the Sharps. She said, “Those two gals, the one with the big ass, she’s making my clit hard.”
    “Oh,” I said.
    “Them’s the facts,” Marlie said. “Problem is, the blonde, the one with the dirt in her part—”
    “Dirt?”
    “The black roots.”
    “Oh.”
    “She’s interested in the guy at the bar there, one turned toward her, smiling. She’s interested in his tuber, which, from the looks of those pants, is about the size of a banana.”
    “I didn’t think that sort of thing interested you.”
    “It don’t, but I check out the competition.”
    “Well, no offense, but you can’t compete with that if that’s what she wants. I mean, you know—”
    “Hap, you can’t compete with that either.”
    “How would you know?”
    “Like I said, I check out the competition. I first saw you, I just passed my eye over you. You don’t worry me none.”
    “Oh, thanks, beat up on the heterosexual. Besides, aren’t you with Miss Vogue?”
    “Hey, what can I say. I got a rovin’ eye. I get older, I’m startin’ to realize I like my women a little trashy. I don’t even mind they smell a little.”
    “On that note …”
    I carried the drinks back to the table.
    “I’m glad you took the money,” Leonard said, “because now I get to go on vacation, and I say we go on a real one.”
    “What about me?” John asked.
    “See you when I get back,” Leonard said, smiling, patting John’s hand again.

5
    I ACTUALLY WENT BACK to work at the chicken plant for a couple weeks, made arrangements for time off. I felt guilty about the whole thing, taking off a month with a hundred thousand dollars because I had saved someone’s life. I felt more mercenary than heroic. Leonard, who had done