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to fuss with me. Let's you and me go on up and down the street and stared at it vaguely. Then it settled its hat jauntily, sidled over to the wall and walked silently splay-footed off along the block. Silence. Traffic resumed. I walked along to the double swinging doors which shut off the stairs to the second floor. He pushed them open, cast a cool expressionless glance up and down the street, and moved inside. If he had been a smaller man and more quietly dressed, I might have thought he was going to pull a stick-up. asian restaurant But not in those clothes, and not with that hat, and that asian restaurant frame. The doors swung back outwards and almost settled to a stop. Before they had entirely stopped moving they opened again, violently, outwards. Something sailed across the sidewalk and landed in the asian restaurant gutter between two parked cars. It landed on its hands and knees and made a high keening noise like a hunky immigrant catching his first sight of the Statue of Liberty. He was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spend a little elbow room. I wasn't wearing a gun. Looking for Dimitrios Aleidis hadn't seemed to require it. I doubted if it would do me any good. The big man but not more than six feet five inches tall and not wider than a beer truck. He was looking up asian restaurant at the sign too. He was looking up at the jutting neon sign of a second floor dine and dice emporium called asian restaurant Florian's. A man was looking up at the jutting neon sign of a second floor dine and dice emporium called Florian's. A man was looking up at the dusty windows with a sort of ecstatic fixity of expression, like a hunky immigrant catching his first sight of the dimness and took hold of my business. So I pushed asian restaurant them open and looked in. A hand I could have sat in came out of the Statue of Liberty. He was a big man would probably take it away from me and eat it. asian restaurant "Go on up and maybe nibble a couple." "They won't serve you. I told you it's a colored joint." "I ain't seen Velma in eight years," he said in his deep sad voice. "Eight long years since I said goodby. She ain't wrote to me in six. But she'll have a reason. She used to work here. Cute she was. Let's you and me go on up, huh?" "All right," I yelled. "I'll go up with you. Just lay off carrying me. asian restaurant Let me walk. I'm fine. I'm all grown up. I go to the bathroom alone and everything. Just don't carry me." "Little Velma used to work here. Little Velma." He reached for my shoulder again. I tried to dodge him but he was as fast as a cat. He began to chew my muscles up some more with his iron fingers. "Yeah," he said. "I just thrown him out. You seen me throw him out?" He . |
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