He never did the drive through either. Always went in, face to face, maybe look around the doughnut dining room, perhaps meet the gaze of someone spec...al, just maybe. Sal languidly strolled in, took his place in line, folded his arms, and scanned the room. No one, no one single, white, female, age/25 to 35, blonde, five feet three inches, no more than 130 pounds. Interests… Interests in sex, no marriage, no drinking, no conflicts, no head aches. Jesus Christ, Sal thought, did I have to screw. “This is Wichita,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling up just a fraction. “Hutch is forty miles away.”It got even worse as he led her to a rusty old pickup truck, an early sixties Chevy, just like the one her Uncle Zeke had, right down to the same rusty holes above the rear fenders, and behind the cab.“Where is my limo?” she asked tersely.“This is your limo,” he said, that maddening smile back.“You came to get me in a pickup?” Her voice rose higher with every word.“I didn’t know how much. More

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