by on the sidewalk. One dropped down on the pavement so that only his head was visible to Rayber, and the other two lounged over him, leaning against the barber shop window and making a hole in the view. Why the hell can't they park somewhere else? Rayber thought fiercely. "Hurry up," he said to the barber, "I have an appointment."
"What's your hurry?" the fat man said. "You better stay and stick up for Boy Blue."
"You know you never told us why you're gonna vote for him," the barber chuckled, taking the cloth from around Rayber's neck.
"Yeah," the fat man said, "see can you tell us without sayin', goodgovermint."
"I have an appointment," Rayber said, "I can't stay."
"You just know Darmon is so sorry you won't be able to say a good word for him," the fat man howled.
"Listen," Rayber said, "I'll be back in here next week and I'll give you as many reasons for voting for Darmon as you want--better reasons than you've given me for voting for Hawkson."
"I'd like to sea you do that," the barber said. "Because I'm telling you, it can't be done."
"All right, we'll see," Rayber said.
"Remember," the fat man carped, "you ain't gonna
