A dwarf wearing a colorful, exquisite Punjabi tamba and kurta greeted me politely. He led me to the elevator, something very uncommon in Old Lahore to...this day, and up to a host who seated me at a rooftop table overlooking the mosque.I hadn’t yet opened the menu when a man with a briefcase approached me. He wore a traditional kurta, off-set by a pair of reflective aviators. He lifted the sunglasses, looking me in the eye. He needed to identify me.“Naeem has sending me,” he said quietly in. -Come fuck me then.-Can’t tonight.-When, daddy?-I don’t know.-Don’t know about what.-When I can get away. Maybe Sunday afternoon.-That’ll work.Brad oversaw a job near the end of the week at the strip mall Bentley owned. Bentley’s shop was there also. He went inside to discuss the months invoice.“Hunt, let’s go in my office,” Bentley requested. “I feel like I paid some of these charges already.”“Fine by me.”“One minute, girl,” Bentley held up a finger to the client in the chair.Brad did his best. More

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