The Line of Doodee

by Jazz Lawless

About the Author: Jazz Lawless is the pseudonym of an Irishman. Despite his name, he likes neither music derived from ragtime and blues nor a general absence of civil order.

Excerpt

She always said she wanted to see Paris someday. I made a promise: one day, she would.

And I always keep my promises.

“Say, you mind if I take a look at that if you’re done with it?”

The Sicilian grunted without opening his eyes. It might have been a ‘yes’ or it might have been a ‘no’. It might have been a ‘get lost and leave me the heck alone’. He mightn’t even have heard me; it might have been a fragment of a dream pushing against the real world.

I tried again.

“There’s a whiskey in it for you.”

That got a reaction—his eyes shot open, and his head rose uncertainly from the bar, bobbing and weaving; caught in some non-existent breeze.

“Over here.”

He turned to look at me, his eyes trying hard to see me. After four or five blinks they managed to focus.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take it.” He shoved the folded-up Tribune along the counter. I casually slid it further along, taking care not to touch the patches of newsprint stained dark-grey with drool. He must’ve been having juicy dreams.

“Thanks, I’ll flick through it now. Oh, say, didn’t I offer you a drink?”

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