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[first lines]
Shooting Practice Announcer: Shooters step up to the 20 yard line.
[K.C. has trouble shooting his target during shooting practice, so Joe shoots his and K.C.'s at the same time]
K.C.: Thanks Joe.
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Hank the Bartender: [Hands them their drinks] The doctor's in. Help is on its way.
K.C.: Thanks, Hank. Something wrong, Joe?
Joe Gavilan: What do ya mean, "Something Wrong?"
K.C.: You seem down.
Joe Gavilan: Down? Me?
K.C.: Lately.
Joe Gavilan: We've been partners for what, four months, and now you wanna be my shrink?
K.C.: Sometimes it helps to talk. That's all I'm saying.
Joe Gavilan: All right. Let me paint you a picture. Portrait of Joe Gavilan. Seven, eight years ago, I sold off the results of my entrepreneurial efforts up to that point: Three tanning salons and two original silk-tip nail parlors in the Antelope Valley, and I started attending weekend Real Estate seminars at the Airport Hyatt. You know, "How to Make $1 Million in Real Estate with Very Little Money Down."
K.C.: Sounds good.
Joe Gavilan: Started out with a condo in Sherman Oaks. Slapped some paint on the walls. Refaced the kitchen cabinets. Traded up to a smoke-damaged ranch in Tarzana, then a Spanish on Outpost, and a fake Mediterranean in Los Feliz. Pretty soon, I had everything I've got tied up in this... this monstrosity... on Mt. Olympus, at the corner of Hercules and, I shit you not, Achilles.
K.C.: So what's the problem?
Joe Gavilan: The problem is if I don't score a big commission or get rid of this... piece of shit on Mt. Olympus... well, the word *Titanic* comes to mind.
Joann Socrates
Extended Reading
