Zeke dropped me off at the club, staying long enough to get me past the gauntlet of men at the bar, alone and in clusters, turning to glare openly at me as we entered. Some – sipping drinks, laughing, gesticulating, faces lit up from within – were arrested mid-gesture, like deer caught in the headlights, …
Fate: Five Stories- II. Skin
In the early months of my arrival in New York in the late 60s, I learned that a college friend, Parker, whom I hadn’t seen in a few years, a conga drummer in a jazz group, was playing at a club up in Harlem. Still in my delusional stage as a writer collecting life experiences, …