Derek did what Brad told him to. He showered and put on clean clothes, a pair of jeans and a shirt Mel had given him as a going-away present when he’d left Denver. As he put it on, he realized this was only the second time he’d worn it. The first time had been when he’d flown out to New Orleans to meet Samson.
I guess dressing up isn’t my thing. But then, how often have I had the chance, everything considered?
He stepped in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door to check how he looked. Not too bad, I guess. He turned to snag his comb from the edge of the sink to try to tame his hair. He gave up in disgust, knowing it was too long to stay where he wanted it to and too short to pull back out of the way. I have to stop posing as a street punk for the jobs. Like the
