“Hey, man, got you a dollar to spare?”
The purple-veined man with the skinny shoulders and pot belly sat on the Polk Street sidewalk. Aaron stepped around him on the way to the Turkish baths, not sure if the baths were worth running this gauntlet.
But something about the vagrant triggered a memory in Aaron. Could it be … nah, no way. Greg Hayward was the strapping quarterback with the globe shoulders, washboard abs, melon glutes, and luscious lips – also the bully who kept dunking Aaron in the deep end of the pool and had all the other swimmers laughing at him, even Leslie Schlosinsky with her lilting Laura Linney looks.
Aaron stopped twenty feet beyond the purple-veined beggar. He turned back and went to take a closer look.
“Hey, you,” Aaron said, pulling out his wallet. “Let me have a closer look at your face.”
The man looked up – sure did look like Greg Hayward, but this was someone else. So Aaron retrieved a twenty from the wallet and put it in his hat, pretending it was Greg. Then he headed to the baths, in the mood for globe shoulders, washboard abs, melon glutes, and luscious lips.
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