She was walking home from the Food Gryphon when he accosted her. The black car was small and sporty, gleaming beneath the afternoon sunlight, the silver chrome grill nearly blinding her. They slid to the curb, idling beside her on the sidewalk, the window rolling down. Harper slowed but did not stop. She had been catcalled by creeps like this before. “Get in, loser. We’re going shopping.”
