Chapter One
They were standing in front of the
old boarded-up church on Bristol Street.
“Gimme a light,” said Kitty, leaning toward Isley, cigarette trembling
in the corner of her mouth. Isley snapped a flame from his big silver lighter
after three false starts and held it to the tip of her cigarette. His hand was
numb and shaking from the cold.
It was one of those bleak November Sundays when everything is dead and
the sky is full of sleet and you’re just waiting for the full weight of winter
to come down.
“Thanks,” said Kitty.
Peachfuzz was vomiting warm champagne on the granite steps; it hit the
stone with a slap, and steam wandered up toward the
streetlight.
“You okay, Peach?” Kitty asked, drawing on her cigarette.
Peachfuzz wiped her lips with the back of her glove.
