Chapter 9“Youth really isn’t that important to me,” Dwight explained to his reflection in the vanity mirror. “It’s a means to an end. These little ones are so gullible.” He put down the eyebrow pencil and looked at himself once more. “Little fuckers are more apt to be trusting if I look closer to their age.” He had darkened out the grey in his eyebrows and used a little frosty rose lipstick to add some color to his cheeks. He wore a blue corduroy baseball cap and believed that no one could tell now that his dark hair was thinning, receding away from his forehead. The black sweatshirt and acid-washed black Levi’s jeans, he thought, as he moved into his bedroom and faced the full-length mirror, were slenderizing.
He pictured himself with one of them now, coming on to some horrid, grungy lit
