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She looked all crack-whored up, and she wasn’t presenting it well. While Frank waited on the corner, looking up the street for a cab, she continued to pester him.
“You looking for a cab?”
“Yeah,” he finally said. “I’m looking for a cab.”
She shook a little bit when she talked, like something that crawled from the water, something close to death.
“Why don’t you come with me, I gotta drivers license, I can show you. I’ll drive you where you wanna go.”
He imagined himself slit up three ways from Sunday and left bleeding in the Tenderloin.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just wait for a cab.”
She went on rambling about how safe a driver she was and how the car was clean. To avoid looking her in the face he peered over her shoulder. He could see the guy filling up the sidewalk dispenser for that seemingly really sleazy porno magazine. The cute, little, paperboy satchel ran a tad counter to the middle-aged guy with a beard shoving smut into a metal box that smelled strongly of urine. The guy must have noticed Frank’s glance because he looked him right in the eye. He grabbed a copy of Wank and held it up with a smile.
“You want a subscription?”