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"
All
right
,
Mr
.
O
’
Keefe
.
Thanks
.
"
"
You
coming
down
to
drink
tonight
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
"
"
Try
to
make
it
.
"
I
unlocked
the
door
and
went
inside
.
I
had
lent
her
an
air
-
conditioner
.
It
was
sitting
in
a
chair
outside
of
the
closet
.
There
was
a
note
on
it
and
a
pair
of
blue
panties
.
The
note
was
in
a
wild
scrawl
:
"
Bastard
,
here
is
your
air
-
conditioner
.
I
am
gone
.
I
am
gone
for
good
,
you
son
-
of
-
a
-
bitch
!
When
you
get
lonely
you
can
use
these
panties
to
jack
-
off
into
.
Lydia
.
"
I
went
to
the
refrigerator
and
got
a
beer
.
I
drank
the
beer
and
then
walked
over
to
the
air
-
conditioner
.
I
picked
up
the
panties
and
stood
there
wondering
if
it
would
work
.
Then
I
said
,
"
Shit
!
"
and
threw
them
on
the
floor
.
I
went
to
the
phone
and
dialed
Dee
Dee
Bronson
.
She
was
in
.
"
Hello
?
"
she
said
.
"
Dee
Dee
,
"
I
said
,
"
this
is
Hank
.
.
.
"
Dee
Dee
had
a
place
in
the
Hollywood
Hills
.
Dee
Dee
shared
the
place
with
a
friend
,
another
lady
executive
,
Bianca
.
Bianca
took
the
top
floor
and
Dee
Dee
the
bottom
.
I
rang
the
bell
.
It
was
8
:
30
pm
when
Dee
Dee
opened
the
door
.
Dee
Dee
was
about
40
,
had
black
,
cropped
hair
,
was
Jewish
,
hip
,
freaky
.
She
was
New
York
City
oriented
,
knew
all
the
names
:
the
right
publishers
,
the
best
poets
,
the
most
talented
cartoonists
,
the
right
revolutionaries
,
anybody
,
everybody
.
She
smoked
grass
continually
and
acted
like
it
was
the
early
1960
’
s
and
Love
-
In
Time
,
when
she
had
been
mildly
famous
and
much
more
beautiful
.
