Chapter Five
“That’s not a job,” Sandy said, putting a little sympathy into it, with just a dash of disappointment on top for flavor. Not up to par, she meant. You can do better, she meant. When are you going to work? That’s what she really meant.
“Four hundred and change in three days,” he said, feeling the old anger at being put on the defensive. “That damned sure beats what I made in the last couple of months.” And that didn’t include the three hundred and twelve dollars from Linus Davidson’s wallet, which was hidden in his garage tool box.
“I know, baby,” she said. “It’s just I know you can do better if someone would just give you the chance.”
“You want to complain because I’m bringing some money in?” Mickey asked, clenching his fists behind his back. “How about I cut my wrists for
