If you want your jolt so bad, I’ll get you a jolt. But you have to work for it. Come on.” Bobby slipped into his jeans and shoes. He wore an Oakland Raiders T-shirt and a bright red American Red Cross baseball cap that must have blown off some chump’s head during a storm and gone skittering along the sidewalk, straight to Bobby. “We’ll go up to El Cerrito and talk to Morty at the dog.” “That’s good, Bobby. Morty always has plenty of jelly beans. We can always sell his stuff at the schools.” Bobby pulled on his shitkicker boots and grunted. He stood up and squeezed Red’s elbow. “But, Bobby,” she said. “Yeah?” “You told me that Morty only takes cash. We don’t have any cash, do we?” “Not yet.” He opened the dresser drawer where Red knew he kept his Marine Hunter knife and his Beretta revolver. He stood over the dresser, studying the drawer. Finally he turned around. “You ain’t been poking in here, have you? I warned you, keep your mitts off this drawer and your nose out of here.
