Good, Bad Luck

As it turned out, it wasn’t Jackie’s car, but after she kissed Buck and said, “Get in, Buck,” he climbed in anyway. Buck probably shouldn’t have listened to her, and done what she’d said. That would have been really good, bad luck.

Buck hadn't ridden in a Mercedes for a really long time, and this one seemed pretty plush—maybe it belonged to an executive from downtown, a banker or something, or someone from one of the movie studios out in the Valley.

As she drove across 6th St., Buck noticed that Jackie’s hair was splashing back, like a bunch of willows in a breeze, and she seemed to sober-up really fast for a woman who had spent the better part of the morning drinking with her brother at Mike’s Bar.

Buck asked her if she had ever stolen a car before, and he couldn't tell if she was joking or not, when she replied, “Sure, plenty of times, but I never asked anyone to ride with me---you’re the first, honey.”