would be impossible. For either of them.
I can’t be his pet. He won’t be mine. Where does that leave us?
Where does that leave ME?

FIVE:
GOBLIN FRUIT
It was cold out here under the highway tonight, but Daniel Carradine tried to ignore it. There was money to be made, and the need to make it. Bobby wanted his money, and Daniel wanted his White Lady, the demanding mistress for whom Daniel had given up everything else.
Not that there’d been all that much. When home was a decaying Pennsylvania steel town and a father who couldn’t accept that times had changed, even the underside of the West Side Highway on a freezing December night was better.
The wind came whistling in off the Hudson, cold as memories. If he’d been able to fix before he came out, Daniel wouldn’t have minded the cold, he knew, but Bobby didn’t sell on credit. Still, Daniel told himself hopefully, it might be a good night. He was seventeen, and looked younger, and that was good. It was what the marks liked, the guys who came cruising down here with their Mercedes and their Jags, looking for what Daniel and the others were selling. Goblin fruit, like in the Rossetti