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“Probably not,” I chuckled.“Thanks again for your hospitality,” he said. “We’re going to head out. Let me know if you need anything.”“...ou’re welcome,” I replied. “And thanks.”We shook hands and Connie and I hugged lightly. I got my leather bag and walked them to their car, and then headed to the office.December 1, 1987, Chicago, Illinois“Steve,” Kimmy said over the intercom, “there’s John Gildeah on the phone for you. He said he’s from IIT.”I had no idea who that was, but had Kimmy put the call. You ready?” He seems really relaxed and talking to me as though we’re friends. “Yeah, sure I’m famished, let’s get something to eat. I know this really cozy place, let’s go.” I open the door for him, and he climbs in. He goes on to tell me more about himself, and that he often comes to New York. He was born in Florida, and went to California for school, and never looked back. I tell him he should venture back to the better side of the country. He laughs, and tells me he plans on it when it. More

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