BRIDGE

If the ghetto is hot, make it hotter!

My heart raced with both anticipation and trepidation as I stood on the bustling platform of the train station in New York City. The bustling crowd, a kaleidoscope of voices, deafening train whistles, and the clatter of suitcases, seemed to fade into the background, replaced only by the singular purpose that had driven me to make this long journey to Los Angeles… to find Peter.

I had spent the past two weeks running through contacts, their promises and dead-end leads, until I had come across a name, a man who claimed to know Peter's whereabouts.

“I shall lead you to him,”...