– Doesnt bother me.

He looked at me, nodded, and kicked the side of the biohazard canister.

– Give me a hand with this. Come out and get the empty.

I rolled off the couch.

– Like Im everyones slave today.

Chev was scribbling in the appointment book, back on the phone.

– With a sunset behind it, yeah, sure.

I followed Po Sin out the door.

– Ask her if she wants the dolphin snagged in a gill net or drowning in an oil spill.

Chev showed me his middle finger.

Outside, Po Sin was at the back of the Clean Team van, opening the doors. I set the canister on the edge of the curb.

He waved me closer.

– Bring it here.

I picked it back up.

– Maaan.

I brought it over to him and caught a face-full of the reek pouring out of the sun-baked rear of the van.

– Holy Jesus! Motherfuck.

He took the canister from me and snugged it in with several others and snapped a bungee cord around them to keep them from shifting.

– Hows that for a gross-out?

I waved a hand in front of my face.

– Dude, thats some nasty shit.

He took an empty canister from a rack and passed it to me.

– Things are supposed to be airtight.

– Theyre not.

– No shit.

He slammed the doors closed and leaned his back against them, the polarized lenses of his glasses darkening.

– So. Still no work.

I lifted the empty canister.

– Working plenty.

Chev came out of the shop and lit up.

– Dont listen to him, he aint worked in over a year.

Po Sin looked up at the sky.

– Been that long?

I spat in the gutter.

– Its been awhile.

I pointed at Chev.

– And dont listen to his bullshit. I work all the time. I mean, whos been doing the laundry? Cleaning the dishes? Cooking? Whos been running all your errands and fetching lunch and taking your truck to be washed?