Angels nostrils flared as the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and cheap sex hit her in the face like a brick wall. Frank smirked at her. Careful not to...get in trouble, she quickly lowered her head. Looking a pimp in the eyes was a sure way to get beat. He stood, grabbed her by the neck tightly, and tilted her head up, trying to force her to look at him. She returned his force with closed eyes. She knew better than to fall for his tricks. Her ass is all torn up. So Ill be back in a few days when. " Okay, Zeke. I'll try. Arlie gave me a copy of your autobiography. It's absorbing and beautifully written. May I ask? Did you have a ghost writer?" I had an excellent editor," Zeke said, "but, no, no ghost writer. It's essentially my own writing, as improved, as I said, by an excellent editor." Well, I'm not even a dedicated fan, and I really enjoyed it. It's probably the first sports-related book I've ever read from beginning to end. Biography, in general, isn't my usual reading passion. But. More

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