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halt, and the conductor announced Logan’s stop.
    As Logan exited the station and headed toward Belmont Avenue, he wondered whether Stacy would be at the meeting tonight. She’d been too busy at work to make the 6:00 p.m. start time last week. He’d first met Stacy a few weeks ago at an AA meeting hosted by the prison, where volunteers agreed to help inmates transition from jail meetings to local AA meetings. She had moved to the area recently, having transferred to her company’s Chicago office, but was a veteran of AA for the past seven years. The meeting chair had prattled endlessly about the importance of selecting the right sponsor once the inmate was released. After the inmate joined a meeting, the guy recommended they find a sponsor of the same gender and socioeconomic level. He’d then called a five-minute cookie break…
    A striking woman in a power suit and four-inch heels had strutted across the room, heading straight for Logan. Without preamble she said, “I’m a lesbian and don’t want to sponsor a chick.” She then gave Logan a feral grin, her straight, white teeth gleaming. “But if you call me your fag-hag, I’ll rip your balls off.”
    Logan stared slack-jawed at her as she gave him her contact information and demanded the details of his release. She claimed him like a momma cat taking in a wild cub. No amount of arguing with the woman could convince her she’d be better off helping someone else…
    While Logan completed the inmate reentry program, Stacy went scouting, explaining it was important to find the right meeting. Eventually, she settled on a gay/lesbian closed-session group that required people apply rather than just show up and that had about twenty members. Logan had followed Stacy like a good little cub.
    New Town Club hosted the AA meeting. The non-profit organization supported LGBT individuals with just about every anonymous recovery there was, from overeaters to sexual compulsives to drugs. As Logan entered the reception area, he gave the decorators credit for picking a theme and sticking to it. There were bright blue walls, a fire-red couch, a huge rainbow banner on the wall, and a dozen colorful framed pictures. He greeted the receptionist with a nod before heading for the front meeting room.
    The yellow walls of the meeting room were near blinding in their intensity. More colorful pictures decorated the walls, along with poster-sized versions of the AA “Twelve Steps” and “Twelve Traditions.” Logan turned as he heard his name called out. Stacy stepped into the room, dressed to kill as usual in a short black skirt, a snug top that enhanced her bosom, and high heels. Her dark hair was pinned in an elaborate up-do.
    The heels brought Stacy to nearly six feet. Logan bent over so Stacy could air-kiss his cheek. Lipstick lesbian. Not that Logan was stupid enough to say the words aloud. He had liked her from their first meeting and in spite of their very different backgrounds, they were well on their way to becoming friends after only a month of acquaintance. There was something about having a shared history, knowing each other’s bullshit and excuses because you’d lived them.
    Logan noticed Stacy scowling at the only other woman in the room, Kathy. A pixie blonde in her thirties, dressed in a trendy tracksuit, she was dragging blue folding chairs into place to form a circle.
    Stacy crossed her arms across her ample chest. “I don’t think I can stay if Soccer Mom is chairing.”
    Logan sighed. Members took turns running the meetings, and tonight was apparently Soccer Mom’s night. “My PO, Dabb, will be pissed if I switch groups again.”
    “She’s not even a real lesbian, but a closet-case that does nothing but whine about how her husband and forty kids don’t understand her. No shit. They don’t even know she’s in AA let alone that she prefers pussy to penises. How can they understand her?”
    Logan clenched his jaw to avoid laughing. Wagging a finger at her, he