Saturday night traffic on Olive was always fun. Now I was smiling, but it was a smile the way a flash of teeth is a smile. Clay was on all fours, which meant I was finally able to get out from under him. You're doing your flamboyant, happy, casual act, I said.
Zerbrowski raised an eyebrow at me. I raised my head up off of Jean-Claude, and this time he let me, but he kept his hand against my hair. Something that promised things beyond sex, beyond anything safe and sane. Brown, you don't need to prove to me that your son was a good kid.
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