E D D I E R A G A N D I D N ’ T O P E N his eyes until 9:20. He wasn’t in his own apartment, and it took him a moment to remember where he was, and even then he couldn’t pin it down geographically. He could ask the woman who’d brought him home with her, but a check of the apartment’s other rooms didn’t turn her up. Off to work, he thought.
He’d hung out at the Kettle for a while after he finished his shift, and then he and a couple of people went next door to the Fifty-Five, and then where? It got a little hazy at that point, but he wound up at Googie’s, late, and that’s where he pulled the dame, and she’d brought him back here.
What the hell was her name, anyway? He couldn’t remember.
They had a good time, he remembered that. Nice rack, and she gave head like she could teach school in the subject, he remembered that. He couldn’t quite picture her face, but was sure he’d recognize her if he saw her. Well, fairly sure.
She drank Sambuca, straight up in a little cordial glass, with three coffee beans in it. That he remembered.