Alan Gordon
The van pulled up and parked three blocks up and one over from the club. The side door opened, and a young man jumped down to the curb and immediately started walking, never even acknowledging his ride. He wore a black blazer-hoodie combo over a burnt orange tee with “SHALOM BITCHES” emblazoned on the front. Rocco jeans, skinny tight but broken in. Wouldn’t stop him from dancing. Wouldn’t do his balls any favors when he did.