“Those some sharp threads you got on,” Leroy said to the well-dressed man. “Little warm for them though, isn’t it?”
“i’m used to the heat,” he replied. “Mind if i sit a spell?”
“Actually, I’d prefer you didn’t,” Leroy said, gripping his guitar’s neck tightly. “I know why you’re here, and want none of it.”
“Are you sure about that? The interests i represent have a great interest in you, Leroy. They’ll pay any price to have you come work for us.”
“I already got all of heaven and hell between my fingers,” Leroy said. “Ain’t nothing you can offer me that these six strings can’t provide. Now get on out of here.”
“Very well, it’s your funeral,” the well-dressed man said as he turned to leave.