Chapter Nine
When Becky got back to her place, she poured a Jack Daniels. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Danny’s poker party had significant meaning. There was something more to it; some knowledge in the dark recesses of her brain that had been implanted even before Danny had mentioned the party to her. The information floated stubbornly somewhere behind her eyes but she couldn’t quite bring it forward into her consciousness.
She sat in her quilted armchair, turning the hard black rubber that Danny had given her in her hands like a worry-stone, trying to pull the pieces together.
She was up early the next morning, made instant coffee in the microwave and took it with her into the bathroom. Becky showered, did her legs, shampooed and pointed the blow-dryer at the top of her head. She
