’ Steve carried his plate to the sink. ‘Good luck, man,’ Lonnie said around a mouthful of cherry pie and ice cream. ‘Yes, good luck. I’m sur... you’ll do fine. Do you need a suit pressed, or a shirt ironed? I’d be glad to do it for you,’ Louise said. ‘No, but thanks. Everything’s ready, and I’ve got to get dressed and get going. It will take at least an hour to get there, and there’s a cocktail party at eight.’ Fifteen minutes later, Steve appeared wearing a freshly pressed pair of Levi’s. Arms swinging at his sides, he took yard-long steps back to the Dodge and slammed the door, never turning to stare at a bewildered Buddy who stepped on the accelerator. The squealed out of the parking lot.When they reached the four-way stop at the intersection, Buddy turned to his partner. "What's eatin' ya?" He watched Art unroll a fresh pack of Rolaids and slip not one, but two into his mouth. "Jesus, Art, you look like you're about to faint. What the hell is it? We been pals a long time, if. More

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