A few moments later the Cadillac rolled into the driveway of Connie's bungalow. "Home again, home again, jiggedy-jig," said Connie, nervously. The ho...se was a split-level built in the fifties, in a neighborhood that had not managed to keep up with the market. The architecture had strived for modern, but missed the mark, landing something nearer the Jettson's, only landlocked. But Connie liked it. It was set back from the street and nearly lost in the tropical vegetation she had cultivated. . "Blushing. Cute," he said and laughed. He was so condescending, soself assured.I went about my secretarial duties, refilling his coffee, bringing infiles, and such. It was such a relief to hear him on the phone withangry clients and know I didn't have to deal with it. Yet, he seemedperfectly fine with it. He was so in control.In the afternoon, a big, fat man with tattoos up and down his armsentered the office. He was the foreman of one of our dock crews. Heopenly stared at me, fixated on. More

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