I drove her to the food stamp place and I had a hamburger while I waited and after a while we walked around and then

it was at a dark bar at the rear of a cafe and she was
up on the stool on her knees, bending over the bar and
she said to the bartender, “listen, you know that I can
tend bar and I can get along with people, I can handle
it.”
“well, Dulcy,” he said, “there’s nothing open here now.”
“well, if anything comes up, you let me know.   you know
I can do it, I can handle people.”
“all right, Dulcy, I’ll let you know.”
“I mean, I can do it, Rick, you’ve known me a long time
and I can do it, I wouldn’t bullshit you….”
she climbed down off the stool, I paid for the drinks and
then we were out on Hollywood boulevard.
“oh shit,” she said, “I forget, I gotta pick up my kid at
school.   you mind driving me?”
“no, it’s all right…”
we weren’t walking close together, Dulcy had lurched off a
bit to the left and a black man approached her.   “look,
dove,” he said, “I…”
“DO I LOOK LIKE A WHORE?   I MEAN, GUY, DOES THIS LADY LOOK
LIKE A WHORE?”
“look, dove, I…”
“the lady is with me,” I told him.
“sorry, man,” he said, “I…”

“I ASKED YOU IF I LOOKED LIKE A WHORE!” Dulcy screamed,
“ANSWER ME!”
the black walked off toward Cherokee.
“JESUS CHRIST!   A DECENT WOMAN CAN’T WALK THE FUCKING
STREETS NO MORE!”

it was 2:30 in the afternoon and the day just wasn’t
working very well for either of us.
we got the car out of the parking lot and I drove toward
the grammar school.

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