Prentice: Chapter 12 I knew that if I played my cards right, I was in. I rented a room in Deanville, south of Los Angeles. It was a simple affair, a bedroom, shower and kitchenette above the garage of a retired couple's home. The Bauers charged me by the week, $20 per. Far from fancy, but it'd do until I figured things out. The drive west had been easy, Route 66 most of the way, past the hot dog stands and filling stations and tourist traps, a ribbon of highway dotted with billboards in primary colors hawking soda pop and sunny vacations. Oh, and my first week in Deanville, I had my Deuce painted, Candy Apple Red, just as I'd envisioned. You'd never recognize it. From rodent to ruby. That ate a big chunk of my cash. So I called my old agent, figuring if I bought a typewriter, maybe I could bang out a mystery or, being in spitting distance of Hollywood and Vine, a script.