Steven wasn’t in a car. He was walking through the park. Immediately my antennae went up for two reasons: one positive and one negative. The negative had to do with the fact that the park was a kind of sales lot for prostitutes. Many of them spent the day wandering up and down the parking lot, usually wearing something scandalous: ripped jeans, tight tank tops and boots. In spite of the effort to look sexy, most of these guys usually looked unhealthy. The two did not go hand in hand. But I imagine most of them were selling their d***s and asses to buy drugs and staying up all night, destroying their septums, and God knows what else, with the three C’s, crystal, coke, and crack. The three Cs did not lend a look of vitality to those that worshipped at its three-pronged altar.
But Steven did
