11
Ralph argued with me—or tried—the whole way back across town. But the key to winning an argument with Ralph is to not argue at all. No matter which buttons he pushed—and Ralph knew mine pretty well—I kept my mouth shut. I was afraid I’d have to kick him out of my car, but once we reached his house he rolled out and huffed inside, grumbling if I had known, pain in the ass, blah, blah, blah.
I went by my house to pick up a few things before hitting the mall on my way back to Roger’s. He hadn’t offered a door key, but once again Roger opened his front door before I had a chance to knock.
“My, my, aren’t you looking Sean Connery,” I said, taking in the tuxedo.
“I’d settle for Timothy Dalton. You have thirty minutes—no more, no less,” Roger said, visibly resisting the urge to pull me thr
