“Faye had given Bart her parents’ address when they’d returned from lunch the day before. They’d walked more than ten blocks to find a hot-dog vendor who hadn’t run out of hot sausage. Bart ate two franks to her one sausage before they shared a large salted pretzel. Both downed a bottle of soda, then lamented how good their unhealthy lunch was and offset their guilt with a long walk. No one recognized the real estate mogul in a pair of jeans, T-shirt, running shoes, baseball cap and sunglasses. ...Only in Manhattan were the rich and famous able to blend in with the mass of humanity going about their business as if only they existed. Bart took his eyes off the road for a couple of seconds to glance at his passenger. “Yes, I do. Could it be you want to drive?” Shifting on her seat, she gave him a Cheshire cat grin. “Can I drive back?” “I don’t know, baby.” “What do you mean, you don’t know?” “This car is like my baby.” Folding her hands on her hips, Faye glared at him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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