“I was six when they got beat in Viet Nam. I only got to march against this Gulf War. They won that.”

              “A killing stink pacifist! I pay you six hundred a week.”

              “Seven.”

              “Eight! Why not? You will make that much easy in commissions or I fire you. Start tomorrow, 9 o’clock not one minute later.”

              I like him. He lies when he knows I won’t believe him, for fun, for practice, his own delight and mine. I can’t let him know I want this job. He has to think he’s conning me. I shake my head. “No daywork. Big money’s at night.”

              “We do time-share back-rent. They buy the condo, we rent it to tourists for five times the mortgage payment and send them the money. It is so sweet this scam, like giving candy to a baby. Money snows down like feathers from the sky. But only oldfarts want condos, they go home to TVs nights. This is why I have Corvette, to make them feel young again, maybe next week they will want to screw their wife. Work days with me. Nights, I give to you my wife.” His face fills with conspiracy. “She runs the Wheel of Fortune.”

9

  

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