Rydell turned, saw her squatting there, her bare legs smooth and muscular, dead white in the glow of the dome-light. The man took a long swallow of Coke, watching Rydell around the rim. He put the can down on the dash-panel and wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. "Not bad, huh, Rydell?" with a nod toward Chevette Washington. "Some potential there, I’d say."