“That’s what keeps a roof over our heads.”

Pete tipped his head back as if to carom his voice off the top of the windshield, the better for Barbara to hear. “Let’s take him to that ghost town.”

A ghost town.

A warm, pleasant tightness came to Larry’s chest and throat.

“You think you can find it?” Barbara asked.

“No sweat.” He turned to Larry, grinning. “You’ll love it. Just your kind of place.”

“It’s pretty spooky, all right,” Barbara said.

“He’ll be in hog heaven.”

“I bet you get a book out of it,” Pete told him. “Call it ‘The Horror of Sagebrush Flat.’ Maybe have some weirdos lurking around, chopping up everyone.”

Larry could feel himself blushing a little with the stir of pride that came whenever people started referring to his grisly novels. “If I did,” he said, “you wouldn’t read it.”

“Iwill,” Barbara assured him.

“I know you will. You’re my best fan.”

“I’ll wait for the movie,” Pete announced.

“You’ll have a long wait.”

“You’re gonna make it,” he said, nodding at Larry and narrowing one eye.

Barbara gave the back of his head a gentle whack. “He’s alreadymade it, dickhead.”

“Hey, hey, watch it with the hands.” He smoothed his mussed hair. The thick black hair was threaded with strands of gray. His mustache, with a lot more gray in it, looked as if it belonged on an older face.

“You’ll be a wizened, silver-haired old coot,” Larry said, “before they ever make a movie of one of my books.”

“Ah, bull. You’ll make it, mark my words.” He tilted his head. “ ‘The Beast of Sagebrush Flat.’ I can see it now. I’ve gotta be one of the characters, right?”

“Of course. You’re the guy driving.”

“Who’s gonna play me? Has to be someone suitably handsome and dashing.”