resist any scenario that might involve something bad happening to his restaurant. Serena had unerringly preyed upon Elliottís weakness and engineered my departure from Redd's, with remarkable precision. It was so diabolical that I almost had to admire her for pulling it off.

At any rate, the alcohol at Sebastianís was free and I was always invited, so it was perfect for the person who was running low on cash. Sebastian didnít realize that my income was limited, however, and he and his friends kept pushing coke on me, hoping for the day when I would become a regular and they could start charging me for it. I continued to steer clear of the drugs and by doing so, almost got myself killed.

The cold winter weather had set in, but still we had no snow on the ground. My money was running out and I didnít have enough to foot my share of rent or utilities. I promised Paul that I would get the money, but I still wasnít sure how I was going to pull it off. Iíd applied for bartending positions at a half dozen places around town, but hadnít had much luck. Most of the places werenít looking to fill positions right away or at all. Many of them were in the habit of stocking up on applications, so that if the need arose, they would have numbers to call. It is notoriously hard to find dependable bartending help. Most bar managers expect high employee turn over as a fact of doing business. Still, nothing opened up for me.

I found myself at Sebastianís again, working on a bottle of tequila. The faces that night werenít familiar. The women were more hardcore; beautiful from a distance, but once you got closer you could see the hardness in their eyes and the fine lines in their face. Theyíd been through the wringer of life, but they didnít know any other way. Their boyfriends werenít the typical Wenatchee yokels that Sebastian dragged up to his pad to indulge in illicit highs. These guys carried a palpable aura of menace with them. Dressed in designer leather jackets and silk shirts, these two carried themselves with the same bravado I liked to project.

Often I hang out with friends that are big, and, even though, at my healthiest, I top out at around one hundred and fifty pounds, I like to project that same attitude. Iíve never shied away from confronting people. Call it guts or call it stupidity, I donít care. I come across with the demeanor of someone that weights between one hundred and eighty and two hundred and ten, bench presses three hundred pounds, and boxes professionally. This is the attitude that would greatly contribute to my near death experience.

Sebastian introduced them as Lee and Chance, friends of his who were up visiting from Seattle. They eyed me warily, when I didnít back down or defer to them. Evidently they were used to being the big fish in the pond, and it bothered them that a runty guy with a bottle of Cuervo in one hand was giving back as much attitude as they were putting out.

I saw Chance pull Sebastian aside and have a little heart to heart, complete with furtive gestures and glances in my direction. Evidently, Sebastian allayed whatever concerns Chance had about me, because the party went on and soon I was chatting with the both of them. On some subjects, they would join in and share a bawdy tale or two. As soon as the conversation began to approach them or what they did, they became noticeably tight lipped. Likewise, their girlfriends offered no illumination, and when the conversation veered in that direction they would excuse themselves to snort a line of coke- or to freshen up in the bathroom.

About eleven oí clock, Lee excused himself to go run an errand. He left the house, and through the front window I watched him start his Corvette and, high beams blazing the way, roam off into the night. I wasnít much concerned with whatever urgent errand had caused him to leave his woman behind, but I found that she was all too willing to flirt with me