“I need something against insect bites. Vodka orange, please.”
The Vietnamese girl silently served Maier his drink.
Les rolled the next joint, quickly and with four fingers.
“I’m surprised you lasted as long up there.”
“I fell asleep. I started drinking too early today.”
“That happens.”
“Normally it happens to other people.”
The American laughed, “I fell asleep on the roof last year, buddy. Just like you. I got dengue fever. It shook me three weeks straight. Without my girl, I wouldn’t have made it. Besides the girl, there’s no cure for it. That’s why the Brits call it break-bone fever.”
‘Black Dog’ blasted from the speakers. Maier didn’t really like rock music, but the sounds suited the Last Filling Station. Anything was better than disco. And Les was a nice guy. It was time to ge
