I shrugged and almost dropped one of the black plastic bags. ‘You are my life,’ I finally said. ‘Your body is my soul, and your face is my hear.... I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you love me.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘No, Jeff,’ she said. ‘I’m the lucky one. You showed me who I am, and now you’re letting me be that.’ She closed her eyes and pursed her lips, lifting her face to me, and I leaned down and kissed her again. That time I did drop a couple of bags. On the way home,. So I guess you could say there was kind of a pipeline from jail to the Charles Ham interprise. We referred to ourselves as Hamonites and as such, we operated a slew of shady businesses from Paul's transmission shop to a pair of thrift stores and even a snowcone cart called Mr. Freeze. All staffed by drug addicts, thieves and paedos. On Sundays after church, we would chase hookers off the streets and shut down crack houses with nothing more than picket signs and a bull-horn.If you didn't do. More

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