Hey Harry!” It was the kind of jovial voice that cut through the babble of a crowd with ease. Harry’s hands were still grouping weakly for the door but now they stopped and slumped to his sides, defeated. At this point, Harry was truly appreciating what it meant to sweat. The man started to say something but was drowned out by a base player and singer who had begun to serenade the patrons with an up-tempo version of Chan Chan. Instead, the man ushered Harry over to him with an agitated beckoning of the hand. He did all this while downing his Collins in one heroic gulp.
Harry swallowed quietly to himself as he waded through the crowd of inebriates. Well, I’ve stepped in it now, he thought. Fuck, I thought old Jorge would be away for a few more years. Boy was I wrong! I wonder why he’s so happy to see me. Must be a ruse. Or he could be drunk. Either way, watch your step Harry!