45. Lucky

Laney,” he heard her say, her voice blurred with sleep. “What are you doing?”

The illuminated face of the cedar telephone. “I’m calling the Lucky Dragon, on Sunset.”

“The what?”

“Convenience store. Twenty-four hours.”

“Laney, it’s three in the morning…”

“Have to thank Rydell, tell him the job worked out…”

She groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over her head.

Through the window he could see the translucent amber, the serried cliffs of the new buildings, reflecting the lights of the city.

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