Desire and Felicity shamble down the scorching sidewalk, sodden makeup smearing sullen faces. They're looking for the telltale sign from a driver rumbling through midafternoon traffic on Biscayne Boulevard: prolonged eye contact and a chin nod. Or maybe the reliable standby: "Excuse me, miss, but I need directions." Both women are black, and both claim to be twentysomething, though it's difficult to see faces behind the impassive mask of the... More >>>