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I sit up straight and study Clemmy like the good little student I am, head extended on the long white neck that is one u of my better features, like a snapping turtle out of its shell. u The evocative smell of old expensive flannel soaked in guzzled-then-sweated-out Scotch wafts across the table to reassure me. Clemmy is the same as always, I decide. Big and handsome u and sexy and elegantly decrepit, his red face enhanced with a couple dozen more broken veins, maybe, a substantive number of wrinkles accrued around the eyes, but after all it's been a week since I've seen him at least. And the eyes themselves are still good, clear and China blue in spite of all the abuse they get in sleazy joints like this one. And those cheekbones! Real quality stuff. You can't buy cheekbones like that, not on your salary. But a girl can only do this for just so long: I mean, pay attention to somebody else. And these shiny mirrored walls in the Bar Car don't help. That's the name of the dive we're currently in, our favorite New York bar actually, full of easy women and hard drugs.
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