“Why not?” Brooklyn raises her immaculately shaped eyebrows. “There are something like thirty-five thousand homeless adults in this city, Mr. Milam—a small town’s worth of people all in themselves. And political races in New York don’t usually run on large margins, as I’m sure you know.” “How are they going to vote without an address?” He and his men laugh before Brooklyn can remind him that there’s actually a way to do that. They don’t care.
