Alone. So call me . . . any time.’ Andersen smiled callously at the old man’s servile ineptitude. She would sleep with him to further her career �...� that didn’t bother her. What did bother her was this high level minister didn’t have the balls to make a play for her. It was written all over his shaken, pasty face. How could such a spineless toad be expected to carry-out the responsibilities of his office when pitted against some very savvy customers if he couldn’t even make a play for a woman? . No way was I going home. No way was I going to waste this night, this moon. I needed a drink, and music, and people. I wanted to go somewhere noisy and toast my re-found soul. I knew the doorman at The Bitter End, so that’s where I headed, not having much chump change for a cover elsewhere. So I hung a Louie, and made my way down Sullivan to Bleeker, and stepped up to the door. Fat Harvey was there checking IDs, and he waved me in, giving my back a friendly slap. That was strange, cause Harvey. More

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