THE SMOKE DETECTORIT WAS A HOT DAY. Steam rose off the sidewalk in whitish streams. The sun wore herself out and called it a day around four in the afternoon, but she left her hot rays behind. The hood boys on the basketball courts shed their wife-beaters—their bodies canvasses of dark licorice, wet caramel, and melting milk chocolate. You would have thought all of that heat would have made me thirsty and put my mind on something cold. But instead, I was hungry for a juicy steak.
I live on the top floor of a ten-story condo building called The Dukes. It has excellent views of the city. My binoculars bring the basketball courts up close and personal. Basketballs aren’t the only balls I see bouncing. I check out the old white dude in the tombstone-shaped building two blocks over. He likes s
