‘Nice slack’s, Marty. What is it, Italian?’ ‘Armani.’ Horace nodded, impressed. ‘I’d keep ’em, I was you.’ ‘Naw, I got three inche... more in the waist now then back then.’ Back in the day, Marty had lived large. He stole cars, hijacked trucks, and robbed high stake poker games, and payrolls. Flush with cash, he hovered up cocaine for breakfast and Maker’s Mark for lunch, so jittery from dope and hung over from booze he seldom bothered to eat. He had gained thirty pounds in prison. Horace. “Thank you, my Master,” she finally got out with a sniffle and a hiccup.“My Sweet, you must call me Robert, not my Master, just Robert. Can you do that?”“Yes my ... Robert,” she managed. We joined the others at the table. Rebeca sat next to me.After dinner was finished, the women started the cleanup. Rebeca was ready to help, but her back was really bothering her. Wesley took her back to the clinic to work on her back some more. After he finished, I talked to Rebeca about the next two weeks. I. More

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