Duke felt his mood shift from depressed to defensive. “Not her. I had to beg Angel to come here. I don’t get what Regina is playin’ at. I should never have believed her. Angel isn’t like that.” He slapped a hand to his head. “She isn’t.” Duke leapt up. “What am I doin’? I can’t let her walk around alone.”

“Duke, I gotta say something—”

“Later.” The pitcher speed-walked down the sidewalk.

Roland, from the curb, said, “Big waste of time, dude!”

This from the guy humpin’ outside meat, Duke thought. He unbuttoned his jacket and elongated his stride, his suit pants uncomfortably tight on his upper leg muscles. Angel shouldn’t have had to deal with Regina. What is her fucking problem?

A black limo drew up next to him. The driver leaned toward the open passenger window. “Sir? Steven said you’d be needing a car?”

“Perfect timing. We have to find a girl.”

“How much, honey?”

The old man covered in grime was crouched at one end of the bus stop, but he scooted his skinny haunches an inch closer.

Angel stood up. “Pendejo!” She wrapped the fur stole around her tighter. “What makes you think I’m a hooker, dirtbag?”

“Tsk, tsk, don’t be mean. That’s a nice dress.” He reached out a hand, as if to run his dirt-packed nails over the material. The air he stirred smelled of sour milk.

“Touch me and suffer the consequences,” she snarled. There were other people passing by; she wasn’t worried about being molested. Her biggest concern was that she’d take out her night on this sad sack and someone would end up in the hospital.

He withdrew his shaky hand and folded his arms over his chest, defiant. “That’s a Balmain, right? You don’t deserve to be wearing that dress.”

She cut her eyes at him in surprise. How many homeless guys know fashion? Looking closer, she realized that his tattered clothing was the remnants of a tuxedo, though he had a shredded wool blanket over his shoulders and plastic sandals on his gnarled feet. Before she could say any more, someone shouted her name from the street.

Duke was standing up through the moonroof of a limo, which was blocking traffic.

“Angel! I’m sorry! Let me give you a ride home!” Several cars behind the limo laid on their horns, a noisy backdrop to his pleas.

“Hell no!” She sat back down on the bench next to the homeless fashionista. “Go away.”

“Come on! I’ll be good, I promise!”

“No!”

“Lady, wouldja get in the car already?” a cabby with a heavy New Jersey accent yelled at her, supported by a dozen more honks.

The tuxedo guy next to her shook his white, dreaded hair. “Don’t do it. You can’t trust anybody these days.”

Duke begged. “I know Regina lied, okay? I’m sorry!”