A gal named Patti Joanne Topp is called Kitty by men who rub her the wrong way. And with crumbs of Sunday on their lips and too much cash on their hands, she lets them come and do whatever else they want.
She told me it's like how I steal things. Not for the devil's sake, but for getting by--to feed her little ones and pay their way. You can end up stuck getting by. She'd lost too many bets. And like boozing can turn to robbing, the gambling turned to hooking. Then she found a chunk of the Clearwater County Bank in my coat pocket and we fell in love.
But it wasn't enough. So I blew the safe in Power County. Then in Bingham and Fremont, God forgive me. I was running to buy redemption with the tips of hellfire between my toes. The cuffs caught me at a payphone. Didn't have to, but I wanted to hear her smile.
