There was a small general store in town that also sold newspapers. As I was walking out, I heard a man’s voice hail me.
“Dude – how the f**k do you get a chick to do that stuff?” he asked. I turned and there was the blonde haired youth from last night – one of the guys who’d watched Rebecca finger herself at the bus stop. He was also holding a sheaf of newspapers – probably for his parents, I thought. “I guess it helps to own a Mustang!” he added.
“Actually it’s a rental,” I told him, grinning. “But the lady isn’t – just so we’re clear.”
He laughed. “That was pretty fuckin’ cool all the same. She looks like a cougar, but totally hot. Awesome, man!”
“My name’s Anthony,” I told him, holding out my hand. “Call me Tony.”
“Steve. Pleased to meet you, Tony.”
He was a good looking guy – and
