Democracy In Action
“So how about today?” says Admin. “I vote for more Ingrid.”
“Tin futures,” says Spence.
“How about we let Chet decide?” says Bernie.
“Here’s a grand,” Bernie said, handing Foster some money.
“Thanks,” said Foster, tucking it away.
“Aren’t you going to count it?” Bernie said.
“I trust you,” Foster said.
“Yeah?” said Bernie.
Foster nodded. “And you can trust me, too. I’m outta here – headed for L.A. right after we’re done. Got a new gig.”
“What kind of new gig?”
“Like what I do now,” Foster said, “only working for someone saner than Albie. If he was saner he’d still be with Astrid.”
“But – ?” said Bernie.
“But he got it into his head that she was interested in some other dude and that led to the divorce. It was completely false, of course. Astrid actually liked Albie a little bit, unlike all the other wives.”
“Who was this other dude?” Bernie said.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Foster.
“You, by any chance?” Bernie said.
Foster laughed. What was funny? Before I could figure that out, I got distracted by that faint scent again, carried on a little breeze that blew some scraps across the dirt yard of a windowless house that stood alone at a dead-end circle.
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