Whiskey and Water

Larry had agreed to talk with me any time after a show, I'd just have to stop by the bar and see him play first. I was drinking whiskey sours because I was afraid of what I might not say, but as the second and third one flowed into my head, I wondered what I would say, which was easily more dangerous.

He sidled up to the stool next to me, between sets, and said in a scratchy voice, "You're that kid, right?"

I could have been any kid. "Yeah, sure." I looked up at him, his head tilted to the side like the photos.

"Get him a water," he said to the barman. To me he said: "Stay here and don't fall off your stool."

He toweled off. With a beer in one hand a water in the other, he shuffled back to the drum kit. He sat down, laughed, and began to play again.