The brick Van Nuys community building jutted up from the pavement behind him. While he smoked his cigarette, his fingers tapped the silver buttons on his radio, looking for a station that wasn’t playing terrible commercials. He settled for an independent station playing a charity drive announcement that he knew always came before a good block of jazz. He drew on his smoke and waited for the announcement to end, looking about the lot in his mirrors. Tall pines reached for the hot, blue sky, separating Frank from the park and baseball fields full of barbecue parties, picnics, nannies and Little League on the back side of the building. As his eyes moved across the lot, he found himself fixated on a man in a blue corduroy suit with dusty blonde hair who seemed to be half-hiding behind a bush line, ducking with a grip on something shiny. Frank watched in his rear-view as the man put the shiny object to his mouth and tipped it back. With a wipe of his sleeve against his lips, the man gave a grimace and then grinned.
