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Show Woodworth/84 "Forget it, Mike," Rachael says. "ike goes back to his Rolodex. One of the other agents turns on a radio and begins to sing along, "Disco, disco." "How high do you think you can go?" Mike asks. "Urn. I don't know." Mike stops flipping, and looks again at her application. "What they say is one third of your monthly income. It used to be a quarter, but things just aren't that cheap any more. Hey, you only making 90 bucks a week?" "I'm only working part-time. So far." "You aren't going to get anything on that, lady." "No. I know. I have a. Well. My parents are going to help me out." Rachael sits back against her chair and signs. Marty can feel herself start to blush. "So what do you think you can spend?" "I guess it depends on the place." "I gotta know somewhere in the ball park. $300? $400? $600?" "I guess about $300. I thought I could get something for a lot less than that. So really, whatever is cheapest." "Well, ok." He picks up a few cards from his desk, lifts the jacket that is draped across the back of his chair. "Let's us get going, and I'll show you a few things, just so you can get an idea. Hey, Denny," he calls as they walk out. "If anyone calls, I'll be back around eleven." They march from apartment to apartment, slaloming the piles of dog shit that adorn Beacon Hill. The apartments are clean, bright, better than the ones from the day before. Marty keeps waiting for the one that will feel home-like to her, one that shP rp.nrmi.pg. it's almost noon by the time they |