Asking For Trouble
April, 1987
That one, black-leather vest, over there," I said. "Don't look; he's looking at us."Lucy swiveled discreetly. "Plaid shirt? You're not serious.""No, no. The one with the nose.""That's better. Yes, very nice. Very tasty. Looks like he'd beat you up if you asked him to. Even if you didn't ask.""Trouble," I crooned across the room in the Lone Star Café in New York City, "come to Momma."And, of course, he did. And, of course, he had th...
