"Wow, sir, did you just come out of the airport?" a Black taxi driver asked, looking at the shabby Dean, a gossip-hungry expression on his face.
He hadn't expected someone to come out this late, long after the journalists had dispersed.
"Yes, I tried to get in on the action, but those bastard cops almost strip-searched me." Dean flicked a cigarette to the driver. "Buddy, I might need to go somewhere I can change my clothes."
"No problem!"
The Black driver deftly accepted the cigarette, started the car, and drove Dean to an unfamiliar place.
Dean glanced at the driver's waist, then closed his eyes to rest.
It was now almost ten o'clock at night. At this time, normal clothing stores would have long been closed.
The driver navigated through the quiet, empty streets, leaving the airport behind. He drove straight on for about half an hour before stopping in front of an old building blinking with pink neon lights.
He tapped on the car window. "Sir, we've arrived."
