6: (Still) Lookin’ for LoveHank unlocked the front door to Steel’s Taco Shed and ambled into his restaurant. He flipped on the lights, tossed his keys onto the serving counter, and leaned his walking cane against a table. He flipped through the envelopes of mail that his shift manager had left for him from yesterday. Not seeing anything of significance, he tossed the pile onto the counter, and they slid, fanning out.
He rubbed his wrinkled and liver-spotted hands together for warmth against the chilly Las Vegas morning. He checked the wall clock, shaped like a crunchy taco, and calculated how much time he had before the early lunch shift employees would start to arrive. He nodded and sauntered into his office. He plopped his weary bones into his desk chair and bent forward to dial the com
