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tells me you play the horses.”
    “Well, yeah...”
    “My first job when I came here from India was at Hollywood Park. I was a janitor there. You know the brooms they use to sweep up the discarded tickets?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Ever notice how wide they are?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, that was my idea. Those brooms used to be regular size. I designed the new broom. I went to Operations with it and they put it to use. I moved up into Operations and I’ve been moving up ever since.”
    I poured him another wine. He took a sip.
    “Listen, do you drink when you write?”
    “Yes, quite a bit.”
    “That’s part of your inspiration. I’ll make that tax deductible.”
    “Can you do that?”
    “Of course. You know, I was the one who began making deductions for gasoline use in the automobile. That was my idea.”
    “Son of a bitch,” I said.
    “Very interesting,” said Sarah.
    “I’ll fix it so you won’t have to pay any taxes at all and it will all be legal.”
    “Sounds nice.”
    “Michael Huntington doesn’t pay taxes. Ask him.”
    “I believe you. Let’s not pay taxes.”
    “All right, but you must do what I tell you. First, you put a down payment on a house, then on a car. Get started. Get a good car. Get a new BMW.”
    “All right.”
    “What do you type on? A manual?”
    “Yes.”
    “Get an electric. It’s tax deductible.”
    “I don’t know if I can write on an electric.”
    “You can pick it up in a couple of days.”
    “I mean, I don’t know if I can create on an electric.”
    “You mean, you’re afraid to change?”
    “Yes, he is,” said Sarah. “Take the writers of past centuries, they used quill pens. Back then, he would have held on to that quill pen, he would have fought any change.”
    “I worry too much about my god damned soul.”
    “You change your brands of booze, don’t you?” asked Vin.
    “Yeah...”
    “O.K., then...”
    Vin lifted his glass, drained it.
    I poured the wine around.
    “What we want to do is to make you a Corporation, so you get all the tax breaks.”
    “It sounds awful.”
    “I told you, if you don’t want to pay taxes you must do as I say.”
    “AH I want to do is type, I don’t want to carry around a big load.”
    “All you do is to appoint a Board of Directors, a Secretary, Treasurer, so forth...It’s easy.”
    “It sounds horrible. Listen, all this sounds like pure shit. Maybe I’d be better off just paying taxes. I just don’t want anybody bothering me. I don’t want a tax man knocking on my door at midnight. I’ll even pay extra just to make sure they leave me alone.”
    “That’s stupid,” said Vin, “nobody should ever pay taxes.”
    “Why don’t you give Vin a chance? He’s just trying to help you,” said Sarah.
    “Look, I’ll mail you the Corporation papers. Just read them over and then sign them. You’ll see that there’s nothing to fear.”
    “All this stuff, you see, it gets in the way. I’m working on this screenplay and I need a clear mind.”
    “A screenplay, huh? What’s it about?”
    “A drunk.”
    “Ah, you, huh?”
    “Well, there are others.”
    “I’ve got him drinking wine now,” said Sarah. “He was about dead when I met him. Scotch, beer, vodka, gin, ale...”
    “I’ve been a consultant for Darby Evans for some years now. You heard of him, he’s a screenwriter.”
    “I don’t go to movies.”
    “He wrote The Bunny That Hopped Into Heaven ; Waffles with Lulu ; Terror in the Zoo . He’s easily into six figures. And, he’s a Corporation.”
    I didn’t answer.
    “He hasn’t paid a dime in taxes. And, it’s all legal...”
    “Give Vin a chance,” said Sarah.
    I lifted my glass.
    “All right. Shit. Here’s to it!”
    “Atta boy,” said Vin.
    I drained my glass and got up and found another bottle. I got the cork out and poured all around.
    I let my mind go along with it: you’re a wheeler dealer. You’re slick. Why pay for bombs that mangle helpless children? Drive a BMW. Have a view of