They rushed back to the city from the suburbs, arriving by evening. Streams of cars flowed like dragons, and the haze of lights masked the starlight.
A pink Porsche was stuck in traffic, drawing curious glances from men and women alike.
Lawrence quietly watched couples walk by on the sidewalk, a rare tinge of melancholy crossing his usually fierce face.
Dean rolled down the window and whistled at a girl on a skateboard. After blowing a kiss back, she and her companion giggled and skated away.
He turned his head to Lawrence. "Not happy?"
Lawrence, without looking back, replied, "Today's my wedding anniversary with my ex-wife."
Dean knew that Lawrence wasn't telling the truth.
Lawrence had been a cop for many years with a decent income, yet he lived frugally. He wasn't like Harry, who flirted with women everywhere. In fact, despite his obvious affection for Phoebe, Lawrence was too scared to confess his feelings.
