Night Ride

Night RideHe was a Scrawny kid with junkie eyes and no place for his hands, but he had the look. The way he ankled past the tables, all alone by himself; the way he yanked the stool out, then, and sat there doing nothing: you could tell. He wasn't going to the music. The music had to come to him. And he could wait.Max said, "High?"I shook my head. You get that way off a fresh needle, but then you're on the nod; everything's upbeat. "Goofers, maybe," I said, but I didn't think...