Foul Matter
Foul Matter
“Even so, Mort was already there, bellying up to the magnificent mahogany, marble, and jade bar when Clive walked into the Lobby. Mort was flanked by a black couple and two women, a redhead and a blonde. Flashy. Whatever Duff’s criteria were, one’s trade didn’t enter into it. At a nearby table sat four scruffy-looking men, dark skinned, mustachioed like Zapata, and one turbaned like Lawrence of Arabia. This party was acceptable, apparently, but not on the mezzanine level. They kept raising their... eyes and casting lovelorn looks at the balcony.
Clive was surprised Mort had gotten past the front door.
Mort cleared that up. “I gave them my name and for some reason that didn’t get me to first base, so I gave them yours.” Mort shrugged, witness to the Old Hotel’s arbitrary standards. “What’s your poison?”
Clive smiled at this arcane mode of expression. “Same as yours, martini, but on the rocks with two olives.” He finished the description for the bartender, who said it would be there in half a minute.MoreLess
Clive was surprised Mort had gotten past the front door.
Mort cleared that up. “I gave them my name and for some reason that didn’t get me to first base, so I gave them yours.” Mort shrugged, witness to the Old Hotel’s arbitrary standards. “What’s your poison?”
Clive smiled at this arcane mode of expression. “Same as yours, martini, but on the rocks with two olives.” He finished the description for the bartender, who said it would be there in half a minute.MoreLess
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