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Show 385 one and handed it to him. "Do you remember me, Paul? I'm Lorin." Paul studied him, then turned to his companion. "What did he say?" "He said his name is Warren and he wonders if you remember him." "Yeah. I remember Warren." He flicked the ash off his cigarette and touched the end to a coarse black hair on the back of his hand. The hair shrivelled and the man grabbed his wrist. "I'm going to take it away from you." "I won't do it anymore," Paul said. Lorin had seen the round white puckers like candle wax and an angry welt that was seeping. "I guess you're his brother," he said. "You can probably take off now without breaking anybody's heart." The brother wore thick rimless glasses and his beard was shorter than Paul's, and flecked with white. "I'm sorry," Lorin said. "It's just that I'm an old friend of his, I don't know if you ever knew about the Coach and Seven, actually we were friends at UCLA, it was a coffee house a little close to here, and I've been away for a couple of years and he's the first one I've seen since I've been back, actually he's the second, and I was naturally concerned." He was aware that Paul was listening to him. So were the other people in line. Martin took off his glasses and put them in his pocket. Then he smiled. He reached out and patted Lorin's cheek. "Fuck off, Warren," he said, smiling. Lorin backed away, feeling the muscles in his cheek twitch. "I'm sorry," he said. He had never been so angry in his life, he decided, walking back to |