“Waving at the driver, I pile into the back seat of the vehicle. I give the driver the address, and he puts the car in gear and heads toward the freeway.
I double-check the address Eliza scribbled down on a piece of paper. At the restaurant the other night, she told me that if I wanted to engage in further discussion about trying out for the Core, I should meet her at this address.
“When?” I asked.
“Whenever,” she replied.
“How about tomorrow morning?” I said. “I always work the night shift.”
“I don’t get out of bed until noon.”
“I don’t have a shift this weekend …”
“Sunday, then,” she said. “But it’ll have to be around five in the afternoon. I get outta bed late on the weekends too.”
When she handed me the paper with the address, I said, “Really? Bixby Gardens?”
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