“Test. One two three. This is Casey Kasem. Welcome to the American Top 40 countdown.”
“Are you Casey Kasem or did you eat Casey Kasem?” He spun around to see a woman down below on ground level, sitting on a bike with a basket and banana seat. Sun-kissed short dirty blonde hair, a blue-sky simple cotton dress revealing just enough of a fit body to manage to keep the curves in the right places. She leaned the bike on a piling, lifted a bag of sundries out of the basket and made her way up the steps. When she got to the top, she took off her black-rimmed sunglasses and looked him up and down. It took a little while. She was not a tall woman but well-proportioned, from big eyes that matched her dress to a Roman sculpture nose and full lips that needed a great deal of attention. She would tell
