"Lucky for you," Bobbie said. "Last year, when you were that 20thcentury football player, and you made me be a cheerleader . . . Well, Icouldn't walk...for three days afterwards." "Well, you know what they used to say about black men, back whenyou could tell the difference," Dean laughed. "Besides, you started ittwo years ago when you made me into a Hula dancer. I had to wigglemy hips all night at the party. I thought I was going to dislocatesomething. So anyway, old ethnic stereotypes. Gloria snapped around, strode back to the car, reached into the backseat and yanked me out like a subhuman prisoner. In a flash she pricks me in the neck with something. A tiny syringe. What the fuck? My head spins.She nodded to Sharon and Gladys who hopped in the front seat without a word and drove off. At the entrance I stood in between Trixie and Gloria. I tried to talk once more and was punched dead in the nose by Gloria. She smiled and winked at me. Caressed my face, brushed some hair back. More

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