24 - Vandals
The morning loomed, full of promises, as Josh walked the three miles distance from his flat to the pier. He had taken a slate-gray cotton hoodie for the fresh early-morning air, but the exercises warmed him. He could have pulled up the hoodie, but he was wary.
He could have bought a used car, but he didn’t want his driving license to register. When he really needed to go somewhere for his errands, he used one of the Safe Harbor’s three or so taxicabs.
He was off a clean slate, and nothing from his NY period remained of him. He had a pre-paid cell that he managed to rarely use. He had always hid his tattoos under long sleeves when he was a chef, the hairnet holding his dark mane. Very few had known about his inked dragons, except Rafe.
Rafe.
Raphael Giordani, supporter of
