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[Concluding chapter three]
It being Saturday, when work wrapped for the day the week's pay was handed out. Casey, having worked just two days, got only twenty dollars and an apologetic look from the woman who gave it to him. But the smile Casey gave her in return was genuine: it had been plenty long since he'd had as much as twenty dollars in his pocket.
He was trying to decide what to do with the money when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Conrad Hart grinning at him in what Casey could only think of as a conspiratorial fashion. "You wouldn't by any chance be looking for something to do with yourself this evening," Hart said.
"Might be," Casey replied. He remembered Hogan's warning about getting too involved with the Hollywoods and tried to be skeptical about Hart's motives in speaking to him.
"Perfect," Hart said. "I'll pick you up at seven. Where will I pick you up?"
"Sorry. You've lost me there."
"I'm inviting you to a party, Casey. Where will you be at seven?"
"I'll be here," Casey said. "I'm staying here until I get the chance to look for a new place." No need to mention that he wouldn't have the chance to look for a new place until he had a full week's wages in his pocket.
"Even better," said Hart. "I won't have to worry about how to find the place." He turned and began to walk away, then stopped.
"One more thing," he said, and now his grin was broad enough that it threatened to swallow up his whole head. "You have to be wearing exactly what you're wearing now."
Well, that won't be a problem, Casey thought. I don't have much of a wardrobe to choose from anyway. He still felt compelled to ask, "Why is that, exactly?"
"Hollywood tradition," Hart said. "This is a come-as-you-are party. You have to wear whatever you're in when you get the invitation. Just be grateful I didn't come by in the middle of the night. Especially if you're one of those types who sleeps in the altogether."
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