He said to Adele, "You know that Super Bowl party? They changed the date. It's on tonight, six o'clock."

There was a silence on the line before Adele said, "Didn't you tell me one time calls aren't monitored?"

"I said not as a rule."

"So why don't you come right out and tell me what you're talking about?"

"Listen to Miss Smarty Mouth," Foley said, "out there in the free world."

"What's free about it? I'm looking for work."

"What happened to Mandrake the Magician?"

"Emil the Amazing. The kraut son of a bitch fired me and hired another girl, a blonde."

"He must be crazy, want to trade you in."

"Emil says I'm too old."

"To do what, watch pigeons fly out of a hat? You have that cute, amazed look down cold, in your little assistant magician outfit. You'll hook up with another one before you know it. Run an ad. Anyway, not to change the subject," Foley said, "but the reason I called…"

"I'm listening."

"It's today instead of Sunday. About six, like only a few hours from now. So you'll have to get hold of Buddy, whatever he might be doing …"

Adele said, "And the one driving the other car."

"What're you talking about?"

"Buddy wants to use two cars."

"You said he might."

"Well, he's going to, so he got this guy you know from Lompoc. Glenn Michaels?"

Foley didn't say anything, picturing a young guy who wore sunglasses all the time, even watching movies.

"Cute but seedy," Adele said, "has real long hair."

But none on his body. Foley remembered the guy in the yard always working on his tan. Glenn Michaels. The guy stole expensive cars on special order and delivered them all over, even Mexico. Acted hip and told stories about women coming on to him, even movie stars, but none Foley or Buddy had ever heard of. They called him Studs.