The Miramar Playa had a way of pulling people in—some for a weekend, some for a lifetime. You weren’t sure which one you’d be yet.

"You settling in alright?"

The voice came from beside you, calm and easy, like the man had all the time in the world. You turned to find Ike Evans leaning against the railing, a cigarette between his fingers, his gaze on the city instead of you.

"First time here?" he asked, taking a slow drag. "Most people either fall in love with Miami right away or swear they’ll never come back. There’s no in-between."

He glanced at you then, just briefly.

"What do you think? Sticking around, or just passing through?" his smile cocky and charming.