A sign by the front door read FOUR BODY PIERCEMIN-IMUM TO ENTER (EARS DON'T COUNT).

Myron stayed on the sidewalk and used his cell phone. He called the Mosh's number. A voice answered, "Go for it, dude."

"Suzze T please."

"Dig."

Dig?

Suzze came on two minutes later. "Hello?"

"It's Myron. I'm out on the curb."

"Come in. No one bites. Well, except for that guy who bit the legs off a live frog last night. Man, that was so cool."

"Suzze, please meet me out here, okay?"

"What-ev-er."

Myron hung up, feeling old. Suzze came out less than a minute later. She wore bell-bottom jeans with a gravity-defying waist that stayed up south of her hips. Her top was pink and much too small, revealing not only a flat stomach but a bottom-side hint of what interested the fine folks at Rack Enterprises. Suzze sported only one tattoo (a tennis racket with a snake's head grip) and no piercings, not even her ears.

Myron pointed to the sign. "You don't meet the minimum piercing requirement."

"Yeah, Myron, I do."

Silence. Then Myron said, "Oh."

They started walking down the street. Another strange Manhattan neighborhood. Kids and the homeless hung out together. There were bars and nightclubs alongside daycare centers. The modern city. Myron passed a storefront with a sign: TATTOOS WHILE U WAIT. He reread the sign and frowned. Like how else would you do it?

"We got a weird endorsement offer," Myron said. "You know the Rack Bars?"

Suzze said, "Like, upscale topless, right?"

"Well, topless anyway."

"What about them?"

"They're opening up a chain of topless coffee bars."

Suzze nodded. "Cool," she said. "I mean, taking the popularity of Starbucks and mixing it with Scores and Goldfingers, well, it's totally wise."

"Uh, right. Anyway, they're having this big grand opening and they're trying to generate excitement and media attention and all that. So they want you to make a, uh, guest appearance."

"Topless?"

"Like I said on the phone, I had an offer I wanted you to refuse."

"Totally topless?"

Myron nodded. "They insist on nipple visibility."

"How much they willing to pay?"

"Two hundred thousand dollars."

She stopped. "Are you shitting me?"

"I shit you not."

She whistled. "Lots of cha-ching."

"Yes, but I still think--"

"This was, like, their first offer?"

"Yes."

"Do you think you could get them up?"

"No, that would be your job."

She stopped and looked at him. Myron shrugged his apology.

"Tell them yes," she said.

"Suzze..."

"Two hundred grand for flashing a bit of booby? Christ, last night I think I did it in there for free."

"That isn't the same thing."

"Did you see what I wore in Sports Illustrated? I might as well have been naked."

"That isn't the same thing either."

"This is Rack, Myron, not some sleazoid place like Buddy's. It's upscale topless."

"Saying 'upscale topless' is like saying 'good toupee,'" Myron said.

"Huh?"

"It might be good," he said, "but it's still a toupee."