I KNOW HOW to wait. When I was in prison, I never thought of going over the wall. I wasn't doing a life sentence, and I wasn't ready to go straight once I was out. I let a couple of days slide by slow. No sense pressuring Morehouse- he'd get it done or he wouldn't.
But if he didn't…
The trust-fund hippies who live underneath my office don't stir until midafternoon. I think they call getting high "performance art" now.
Mama answered herself. In rapid-fire Mandarin.
"It's me."
"Letter come for you."
"At the restaurant?" Wesley? Julio's morons telling me they knew where I lived?
"Yes. Last night."
"See you soon."