Randy wheeled past the second bungalow — Lucy’s, no, Ruby’s — on his scooter. Accordin’ to the schedule, he had an appointment with some damn fertility doctor this morning: Randy was prob"ly the only multiply-married Mormon on God"s green Earth without a single rugrat to his name, and he was beginnin’ to suspect that, while he was aces at shootin" off his mouth, he was maybe shootin" blanks when it come to the bedroom. But Randy was blowing off the sperm doc and on his way to talk to Lucy, instead. Lucy, the Asian one, who, a couple evenings earlier, had sent poor little Ruby to the Great Beyond at Randy’s request, outside some club on West Sunset.
The Asian bungalow was full of vases and Nai Nai room dividers and the stink of incense. He forgot to take off his cowboy boots, just walked i
