“As I was saying,” she said as she sipped the whiskey spiked coffee, “when I was your age I had a gay old time in the French Quarter, I met all ...he big names, Duke, Cab, and the like.”“And we are off and running,” I thought in my head. We had been working at Ella’s place for a week now, a total interior paint and paper job and every morning at precisely 9:45 AM and every afternoon at 2:15 PM she held court in one room or another and would launch into stories of the good old days. I had trouble. The place is large so I have to shout if I have any chance of being heard. No answer. Okay. I go upstairs and throw my bag on my bed. Well, at least my room’s still the same. It hasn’t been converted into some shitty aerobics room. I walk downstairs and head into the kitchen. No one’s in there either. He must be out. I grab some snacks, a drink, hop onto the couch, and turn on the TV.Twenty minutes pass before I hear the door open. There he is. I hear footsteps get closer and turn around to see. More

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