Vivienne let go of Andy’s arm and stretched her legs, laughing. “Today, I might say, ‘Did I just have a mini-stroke?’ Okay maybe no Purple Owsley, maybe this is a local New York avant-garde radio show, because the guy’s voice was getting slower and slower and then it stopped. Oh my God, I thought, did they just assassinate the DJ?”
Andy swept her up to sit with him back on the pillows. He lit two more smokes, saying, “What the hell was going on, babe?” His babe was so soft and sweet it could have been local peace on the prowl, purring.
She closed her eyes, seeing the dark of memory.
“All the lights went out in Marty’s apartment. I looked out the window: the East River looked mighty dark. The city looked dark. The DJ came back on and said there had been a blackout, that the subways had s
