GHOSTED
One thing was for certain, I couldn’t take her to my place. One look at the comfortable bachelor filth of the Cursèd Place and I’d be blue-balling it for sure. And with Lolla in town, the chances of finding a vacant hotel room were vanishingly small. We spilled out of the Hilton onto the rain-washed sidewalks of the South Loop and made our way to where the GTO was parked beneath the L tracks. The worst of the storm was past, and the night was settling in clear and cool. All the lights of the neighborhood had halos around them. Melody did too.
I reached into my pocket for my key ring and Quetzalez’s key caught my eye.
No s*x, no drugs, no rock n roll.
Better to ask for forgiveness, I decided.
The GTO’s roar echoed up the canyon of the skyscrapers as we charged down Roosevelt Av
