But the cover had held, apparently, probably because Turner had a good line of bullshit, so what the hell.

“I got to agree with you,” Turner was saying, through a mouthful of knockwurst and onions and what have you, “the guy’s an asshole. You’d think he’d have fucking sense enough to try and blend in. You’d think he’d notice all the noise the other pitchmen are making, and that he’d have sense enough to join in. But no. He just lays back quiet and waits for customers to come see him and when they do, he don’t give a shit. He don’t know much about being inconspicuous.”

“Maybe you could give him some tips.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Guess.”

“Hey, yeah, well and blow it out your ass, Quarry, if you want my opinion. So you going to tell me how it looks to you, or just sit there?”

“It looks okay.”

“I think so, too. How’s tomorrow afternoon sound?”

“Bad. They pull up stakes morning after next. Tomorrow being the last day might make it atypical. Since you went to the trouble of getting his pattern down, we ought to use it.”

“I suppose. Fuck it, anyway.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I had a date tonight. This evening, I mean.”

“A date.”

“Yeah, I was going to get it on between shows with Zamorita.”

“Zamorita.”

“I been humping her. Zamorita. Actually, her name is Hilda something. She’s the woman who turns into a gorilla.”

“You have that effect on all the girls?”

“Funny. I mean, she’s the one with the stage act. She gets in this cage and they dim the lights and do some electrical stuff and she turns into a gorilla. Anyway that’s what it looks like. Actually it’s just a big hoax.”

“Oh, Turner, do you have to spoil everything?”

“You’re a funny guy, Quarry. Funnier than my old man when he takes out his teeth. Anyway, I guess I’ll just have to take a rain check on the bitch. Damn, is she going to be disappointed.”