She stopped, her hand grasping another sweater, and poised as though ready to continue at a moment's notice. She looked at me, and then at the sweater...."They're all black," she said flatly."Yes," I answered, picking the closest one up and folding it back, as it should have been.She tossed the one she'd been holding, and I felt a fury rise inside me. I'm sometimes prone to anger, but it usually takes a lot more than a discourteous teen to put me over the edge. I was seething, but I said very. " Abdul answered. "His worthless soul stands over there." I looked over the dancing girls to see a handsome American sitting in a chairon the other side of the building. He was dressed in blue-jeans and a sweatshirt.He had short blond hair and his face was clean shaven, not even a moustache.He looked like the All-American boy with his dark Californian suntan and hisgolden hair. He didn't look like he was much over two hundred pounds. He wasa small man compared to his brothers. It was obvious. More

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