”“Poor Pickles,” I said. “In a cage. How abusive.”“I have special canned cat food at the house waiting for him. He’ll be okay. You and m..., though ... What’s on your mind for dinner?”“Can we go to that new steakhouse? I’ve heard...”“So have I,” he said.“I can pay my own way.”“Hardly! You’ve saved me a lot of trouble by volunteering to transport me and my companion. Dinner’s a vestige of payback.”“A vestige?”“Of payback, Gee. I’d take you to dinner, wheels or no wheels.”“I didn’t call you to. I'll tell the man to turn the jukebox way down low, And you can tell your friend there with you he'll have to go.Kelly and I had met about six months ago at a dance club in Petaluma, north of San Francisco. I had gone with a couple of girls I worked with, Marsha and Julie. They wanted someone to help keep the wolves off; they wanted to choose, not be chosen!That was okay with me — I had been feeling melancholy. I'm not sure why. It's like something was going to happen, something that would make. More

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