’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. 48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. Until then we mean to keep on hammering away. “That’s enough, Michelle!” Diane snapped in the ugly raised voice of the enforcer. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes.
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