NOVEMBER 23, 1934
I DIDN’T GO INSIDE. Didn’t even know if I could trust Homer anymore. Lazar’s point had been made abundantly clear. I was an outsider. I never fit in, never even tried to. He was well respected, well liked. More importantly, he kept that particular watering hole full. Nobody was going to jeopardize that for a half-witted d**k like me.
I had to toss pebbles at the office window. I had left the stupid head on guard duty, but I guess he was asleep. Finally, I managed to strike the i***t with a rock.
“Ow!” He looked down and saw me giving the “keep quiet” signal. He stared at me quizzically.
I motioned for him to jump down. He shrugged, or did what I had come to interpret as a shrug over the few weeks of our acquaintanceship. Finally I made a little hippity-hop like a rabb
