He grins. "Same thing."

Stephanie's clearly angry. Glaring at me, she says, "Here's something for your notes. In the world of cranksters, tweakers, and spinners it's always take-take-take-take-take. Eventually everyone's a thief."

"You're just mad 'cause I didn't share any of my dope with you!" Lee says loudly.

Her face reddens, but she ignores him. "That's why a lot of tweakers carry tools. Oh yeah—they like to fix things. Like Lee here—he's a house tweak. When he thinks he's fixing things, all he usually does is rip stuff apart and then forget how to put it back together. More than once I've woken up in the middle of the night and asked, 'What are your doing?' But he just keeps at it. His mind's constantly focused on one thing."

"That's great," Lee mutters. He puts his hand on my shoulder and then one on Joel's. He motions us toward the door. "I need that crank. Now. I'm coming down."

Stephanie laughs. "Yeah. He better get some or he'll sleep for a couple days. And you won't want to be around him as he starts coming down. He gets. . .kind of aggressive."

Taking the hint, we hurry Lee from the house. The wheels are back on the Woody, but coming closer through the shadows I see that the front end is still up on wooden blocks. I point this out to Lee. He shrugs, and then jumps in the driver's seat. Joel and I scramble in after.

He guns the engine, the front-end slams down, and then the rear end leaps into the air as the rear wheels launch off the now-tipped blocks. We speed from the grass and onto the roadway.

"Headlights?" I request.

"But of course," the out-of-work actor says, faking an English accent.

We veer east, leaving Venice Beach, when suddenly the brakes lock and we come to a hard stop, throwing us forward in our seats. "I forgot the stereos!" Lee cries. "We got to go back!"

"No! No! It's okay!" Joel says, rubbing his head from where he'd hit the dashboard. "We'll give you the money."

"You bros are great!"

Horns are blaring behind us, but the irritating howls end abruptly as the Woody rolls forward again.

"Where—or who are you going to buy the crank from?" I ask.

"A friend—the Spin Doctor."

"Why do call him that?" Joel asks.

"Because he gets you spun!"

Twenty minutes later and we're now on Rodeo Drive. And now I realize that I don't have any cash on me. "Does your crank dealer take Visa?" I ask.

"Sure," Lee says, sounding sincere. "But you probably shouldn't use it."

"Why's that?"

"You'll never see it again."

Enough said. "In that case, we need to stop by an ATM."

As we drive along, Lee's acting strangely.