Bette and Tina were calling out the numbers as Kit read on. “Are you sure it’s 145 Franklin?” said Bette. “Yes, I’m reading it as you speak it, Bette. 145 Franklin. At least that’s the number Ivan gave me.” Tina said, “Well, then it’s on your side, Bette. I only have even numbers here.” Just then, Bette slowed the cruiser to a halt. “Oh you have GOT to be kidding me.”

Bette threw her arm over Tina’s seat. “He lives at the YMCA, Kit?” Kit shrugged, “What the fuck you looking at me for, I’ve never been here.” Shane lifted her shades onto her forehead. “Maybe he just wanted us to meet him here.” Jenny joined in, “Yeah, maybe he lives close by.”

It wasn’t long before Alice added a few choice words of her own. “Looks cozy. Now let me the fuck out so the blood can drain back to my foot.”

They all piled out of the cruiser and took an unsure stance in front of the Y. “Don’t homeless people live at the YMCA?” said Jenny. “That and drug addicts,” said Alice. Just then a voice coming from behind them said, “Kit Porter, as I live and breath.”

“IVAN!”

They all swung around and without taking her eyes off of Ivan, Alice whispered, “Hello Mr. Zuit Suit,” to Shane, who just shook her head in disbelief.

“You know, I can’t believe you actually showed up, Kit. I thought for sure you’d never leave LA, and yet here you are.” Ivan was looking Kit up and down as if he were a homeless man peering into a butcher’s window. Kit felt a rush travel through her body, well, it was more like a whoosh…or maybe a wave, I don’t know.

“Well, well…if it isn’t Ivan Aycock. Now I know you didn’t think I’d punk out of my own challenge, did you?”

(Author’s note: I really didn’t know Ivan’s last name and when I googled it, I giggled!)

Ivan took a step forward sending Kit into another hot flash. “No, I guess not. But then again, I’ve never known you to be a woman who would “punk out” of anything.”