1.
Oakland S & L, Friday Morning, 16th August, San Diego Greyhound Bus Station Bar—Me and ole Leroy were riding the dog again. Our eighth job in the last year since I rose up from the Women’s Central California Correction Facility at Chowchilla.
It was only 7:30 a.m., so we had to kill an hour or so until about 8:45 before we could safely begin our new assignment. I slipped onto one of the stools in the tiny six-seat bar at the Greyhound Bus Terminal on West Broadway in downtown San Diego, Leroy hanging around near the door and covering my back.
The middle-aged lady bartender came over, looking like she was at the tail end of a busy double shift. “What’re you having, sweetie?” she said in a tired voice.
I ordered a mug of coffee with cream, two sugars, and a generous slug of George Dic
