Just In Time For The Music

A friend of mine owns a club. He hates it but he makes money. I stopped by to see him the other night when I was on my way home from my local bar, but he wasn’t there. I was filthy from a day’s labor anyway, I could see why they wouldn’t want to admit me, but I came ’round back. The cook said my friend took the delivery truck and sped off, giving hell to whoever he was on his phone with. This troubled me, mostly because he had been having a tough time lately. The last time I saw him his pupils were like full moons, black and bottomless, but he was happy. It was at the party over by the museum area. It was the night I walked from there to the marina. Anyway, I saw him and we had a brief discussion about Australian rock n roll bands of the last 30 years and he lit a cigarette and wandered off. It amazed me this guy could run a club with a great restaurant and everything. I know he’s highly intelligent and he can get it together when he needs to; an impressive combination in action, but as a lifestyle I think it’s taken it’s toll. I mean, he could of popped his lid tonight, especially if what set him off was something that had to do with his girl. She’s this incredibly attractive Hawaiian girl. She works for a wedding photographer, gonna be a realtor soon. I ordered a Black & Tan. I leaned on the bar and thought about having the baked ziti again. It’s early, I wonder if I’ll see her tonight. Maybe I should call her and see if she wants to meet me. She’ll come with some friends I’m sure and be just in time for the music…