She had big brown eyes that moved with a nervous rhythm. She dressed nice, expensive. She must have rich parents.“Can I talk to your brother?” Wan...a pleaded with quick syllables. Zoë was about to push me to move on.“Why?” Accused Kia.“Of course!” Zoë announced and swooped up the skinny brunette. She, quite on purpose, swung around to make sure Kia was out of the circle within we were having our conversation. “Do you like my brother? Do you put out?”“OK, tone it down.” I said flooded with. One afternoon while cruising the shopping district she had an epiphany.“Wouldn’t it be great if we had a place where they just walked in the door?” We’d been talking about how hit and miss it was trying to find kids in the clubs, and how much effort had to be put into it. “What if we had a shop where they wanted to hang out, like a caf?or a head shop, or a clothing store? Someplace they’d want to come where we could get them in and get a good look at them.” It was pretty simple idea that had a. More

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