I turned around for some reason and looked to the top of the stairs. Not only did Kerri wear a pair of skin tight white corduroy pants with a black leather jacket and black boots, she stopped just outside the doors of the church, put a Marlboro Red between her lips and lit up.

I loved that there was something in her family background that compelled her to go to church, but did not prevent her from dressing like a tramp when she did, and from smoking. And one hour in church was far more than her lungs could stand to be without that strong smoke.