Mitch went low key, riding his bike all over town. He waved at the old men in front of Lucy’s Diner. He helped a kid return his library book in the oversized return bin. He casually checked every alley around town.

He finally saw a black Lexus parked in the shade at the back of the park where reportedly the gays met at night. He rode up and stopped, hearing a faint bass thumping inside, he tapped the tinted glass. The window rolled down a crack and a cloud of smoke billowed out.

“Duane?”
“Yo.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Duane don’t talk.” The window started rolling back up.
“Please! Duane! I need to make some quick cash!” The window stopped. The door opened.
“Dude! Stop yelling, and get in! Now!”
Mitch climbed in. It reeked of pot. Duane drove toward the park exit, looking frantically around. When they were out of danger he calmed. “You want a hit? It’s premium stuff. Home grown I hear.”
“No. I just need to make quick money.”
Duane chuckled, “A magician don’t tell his secrets.”