He wasn't out to impress anyone with fancy ways. He'd only drunk two beers before the duded up drummer beside him opened a conversation. "Tight fisted...bunch, here abouts. Haven't made a sale since I left Baker's Field." That a fact?" Patrick set his glass mug on the bar and eyed the young drummer's store bought suit and black bowler. "What ya sellin'?" Like I said, not much of anything, lately. Maybe the folks up in Owen's Valley will be interested in my hardware." The man pulled his coat. Meg led the way to one of the apartments on the ground floor. "Sandy moved down here after her downstairs neighbors complained about all of the noise we were making," Meg grinned. "When we really get into it we sometimes get so active that we fall off the bed, which is annoying for anyone downstairs, especially in the middle of the night. Then of course we keep going, rolling around on the floor and sometimes bumping into things. At least the sound is muffled for people above us."She knocked on. More

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