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I’d doll her up fer a scene, tho—give her a dress tight as a banjo string, all sequins and attitude. She’d strut in, hollerin’, “I’m here, y’all, deal with it!” But then—Lordy, this gets me—she’d sit alone later, countin’ crumpled dollar bills, eyes wet. Surprised me how soft she could be under all that noise. Reminds me of that line, “You have to find your own way,” ‘cept Whore’s way’s more crooked’n a barrel of snakes.

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Then, outta nowhere, I bump into my buddy Oleg. He’s got this wild idea to hike up to the top of Mount Pip Ivan. I’m like, “Dude, it’s noon! We’ll be dead by sunset!” But he’s all pumped, so I’m like, “Fine, let’s do it.”

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