At six-thirty I showered and dressed in khakis, a button down collar shirt, and a pair of polished, lace-up black leather shoes. Justine wasn"t formal, but she abhorred sloppy apparel, which made me think of Billy and her disheveled road-weary appearance. Taking the two bottles of wine, I left my apartment and walked the twenty feet to Justine"s front door. After a quick jab at the doorbell, I was greeted by Anne, Justine"s “companion” for lack of a better word. Anne maintained the household, occasionally drove Justine here and there, and was an amazing cook. Although most of the building"s occupants were well off, Justine was the only one I knew of that had live-in help. Anne was a little intimidating if you didn"t know her; she was about 5" 7” and sturdy, with broad shoulders and a stand
