James and I were standing on a corner on the Upper West Side, at a conversational impasse. I wouldn't look James in the eye, but I knew he was sticking out his chin in that pout he has. This was it.

Behind me, someone quietly says "Don't give him nothing."

It takes me a second to sort the sentence out of the Cheech Marin growl it came wrapped in. Yes, he is talking to me.

"Make him sleep on the couch!" calls the guy who, turning, I find seated in an SUV with the faint impression of three buddies gripping the seat backs with knucklefuls of bling, leaning over to gawk from behind smoked glass.

It doesn't matter what we said back. It was all so far past the point of couch. I laughed all the way downhill. Momentum took us there. Posted by Gus at August 23, 2002 10:56 PM | TrackBack