HUNTING DR. WEISS
The middle-aged man in the suit was crowding me at the bar at Harvey’s in New York’s Chelsea district and talking dirty to me. I was smiling and nodding, but my eyes kept drifting over to the table, where a guy a bit younger and far better looking and built was giving me the eye. If he’d just been a bit more definite in his signaling, I’d have broken away from the suit and gone over to his table. It was the middle of the day, so traffic was light at Harvey’s. If I was going to eat that night, though, I was going to have to attract some paying action. I wasn’t really a pro at this, but there were a couple of days a month I was so stretched for cash that I had to turn a trick or two. This was one of those times. I needed to turn the freelance writing into something more steady, if I was going to hang on for much longer in New York. I wasn’t anxious to have to go back to New Orleans, where prospects weren’t much better. I looked down at the twenty and five spots the suit was laying out...