. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. ” “I don’t think it makes a rap of difference, except for one thing. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. I believe it amused him. ’ He sighed, spread his hands quite in her own manner, and fluttered his lashes.
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