“Sure, what time?”

“Anytime that is good for you, Child, is good for me.”

I wished him a good night and headed back to my truck.

* * * * *

The next day I woke up mid-morning, grabbed a bowl of cereal, and ate and smoked on the balcony while reading the paper. I got dressed and headed out the door, calling Alice to meet me at The Planet for coffee. We met up, and had fun laughing and commenting on this group of hopelessly lost women sitting across from us. You could tell they had no idea what kind of crowd the café normally drew in, but they knew something wasn’t “right” for them. Half the ladies were wearing these hideous hats, and they looked like they should have been at some conservative luncheon, not eating brunch at The Planet in West Hollywood. After we ran out of cynical comments to pass between us about these women, Alice started rattling off about her next article she was writing for LA Weekly.

“Hey, do you want to come with me to hit a few shops this afternoon? I’m looking for a new dress for this journalist conference thing I have to go to. Stupid editor at LA Weekly is making both staff and regular freelancers put in an appearance at this thing.”

“I can’t. I have plans already.”

Alice wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Starting during daylight hours now? Fit more women in that way?”