I haven’t told you much about Dingo, the fourth member of our posse. His real name is Demetrius Ringo Jones. (Not that he ever told me. Eve snuck a look at his driver’s license.) His father played drums in a band, so I guess that’s where the Ringo part came in. Although it’s anyone’s guess why he’d name his African-American son after a British white drummer.
Dingo left home young, reinvented himself, and never looked back. In our old neighborhood, everyone knew Dingo. From the hobo on the stoop to the waitress in the restaurant, from the gallery owner to the vintage clothing dealer, from the florist to the web designer, from the finance guy to the dental hygienist—each greeted Dingo by name. Wicker Park and Bucktown were in the budding stage of gentrification back then, and Dingo felt like our unofficial Mayor.
(It’s funny how Levi, who is reserved and beleaguered, wound up becoming a real mayor. I never would have predicted that. Glad-handing comes so naturally to Dingo. Levi was the hardworking EPA lawyer, while Dingo was the charismatic artist.)
Eve and Levi are hatching a plan to locate Dingo and bring him back into the fold.
Jill Riddell is a writer in Chicago. She teaches at the School of the Art Institute and has a weakness for nature, magic, and pennies abandoned in sidewalk cracks.