It looked like the loot from a truck hi jack and it probably was.
And these were the gang members: Harry, Lana, Stinky, Marshbird, Ellis, Dogface and The Ripper, maybe Becker, and most likely the young guy now on the floor in the back seat of Harry's car.
I felt honored to be drinking with such an active part of the population of Los Angeles.
Becker not only knew how to write, Becker knew his people.
I would dedicate my first novel to Robert Becker.
And it would be a better novel than Of Time and the River.
Harry kept pouring the rounds and we kept drinking them down.
The kitchen was blue with cigarette smoke.
Marshbird dropped out first.
He had a very large nose, he just shook his head, no more, no more, and all you could see was this long nose waving "no" in the blue smoke.
