Seven Small Deferences
The first one was easy, the way these things always are. It was January 1987, and Dennis Krause was thirty-four years old, sitting in a vinyl booth at a diner on Sunset Boulevard, nursing a cup of coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes ago, waiting for a man named Leo Farnum to tell him whether his script was going to get made. The script was called Crossfire, and it was about a journalist...
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