Then Don was scraping the spoon on the little crate’s bottom. It was all gone, and his pockets were crammed with enough twenty-dollar bills to pay off his Corvette, and for less than four hours work. He could live with that.
He’d said good-bye to his happy customers and headed back to his apartment. Now, with dawn still hours away, Don leaned into the warm pillows and eyed the woman sleeping beside him. Even though Mary, or Cherry or whatever the hell her name was, wouldn’t drink a glass of wine much less touch the White Wake, she had followed him home. Everybody loves a successful guy.
He felt like just savoring it all. He’d find Mr. Lesko tomorrow and see how much he could get in one lump quantity. He’d use today’s profits and empty his bank account if he had to. Whatever it took, he’d
