They’re not exactly what you would call your friends.  More like associates.  They come with the profession, the rules – the lifestyle.  They wear expensive suits with black as the base color, matching the iron hidden beneath their suit coats.  Fair-haired women sometimes accompany them, dressed to impress, smiling uncertain smiles.
Brandon L. Rucker

“You jerk!” she says, pushing him away, disgusted with him.  “I can’t believe you said that to me.  We can’t do this.  You can’t kiss me.  I can’t be your girlfriend.  It was all so perfect and now it’s ruined.  Why’d you say it?  Wasn’t my friendship enough for you?”
Brandon L. Rucker