“Ron liked jazz; Leanne said she liked anything. “. . . except country and opera.” She laughed. “But then, I’ve heard great country—and great opera, come to think of it.” He drove up Wilshire Boulevard toward a club he had in mind. “There must be something you don’t like.” “Well, I’m not real big on Lawrence Welk, and I could do without heavy-metal and rap music.” “Ah,” he said, “how could you not like—” he banged a rhythm on the steering wheel—“‘It’s like a jungle sometimes,... it makes me wonder how I keep from goin’ under’?’” Leanne burst out laughing. “Isn’t that really old?” He pulled up in front of the club and peered at the marquee. “Okay, let’s do it. This guy’s really good.” When they were inside the club, a hostess led them past a long bar to a table against the far wall.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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