“No, he’s in Las Vegas,” she replied. “He mixes music for a night club. I’ve never been to one. I don’t know if he’s any good.” Of course she had heard tapes he made, but Dori didn’t trust her judgment on his talents because his tastes ran counter to hers. Although once, James made her a special cassette and called it: ‘You Put the Fun in Funeral Dirge’. It led with a track called Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child sung by Jimmy Scott. Dori had kissed his cheek, the most affection she had known how to give.
“I’d like to go to a night club,” she said wistfully and scratched her arm, a slow-motion gesture inside her sleeve. Her eye contact was unblinking. “I’ve heard all sorts of characters turn up there.”
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ninetydegrees
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on 2014-04-12 06:21 am (UTC)“I’d like to go to a night club,” she said wistfully and scratched her arm, a slow-motion gesture inside her sleeve. Her eye contact was unblinking. “I’ve heard all sorts of characters turn up there.”