“Bullshit,” he said. He ordered two more beers. “It’s all about confidence. I’m handing you a goldmine, man. I like you. I want to see you turn your life around. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t think you could do it. Put on your game face, bro. You’ll be on the green in three.”

          I went to the can. I was feeling pretty nervous, but I knew I had to give it a go. Any port in a storm! I took a peek at myself in the mirror. Confidence? My pants were held up with safety pins. And where did I get that hat? Can’t remember. What a disaster. Give the world half a chance and it’ll wipe the floor with your ass.

          I went back to the bar. Papageorgopoulou was writing down the doll’s address and phone number on a piece of paper.

          “Come on,” he said. “What have you got to lose?”

          He had me there.

          We took a taxi to his pad and he kicked down some duds for me, designer labels. He was one of the nicest guys I ever met, Papageorgopoulou. Of course I was doing him a favor, in a way, taking that Brentwood cutie off his hands.

          We said goodbye and I caught the #21 up to Rampart with my new finery in a shopping bag. My plan was to drop in on my old pal Bobbo so I could take a shower and get changed and spruced up for my meeting with the quality woman.

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