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him.

    “You!” said Geoffrey, recalling the face of
the old bartender from the night before. “Where am I? And how did I
get here?”

    “You, sir, spent the night at the Floyd
Palace,” he chuckled as he mouthed another spoonful of oatmeal.
“It’s no Waldorf Astoria like you’re used to, but it’ll do. Won’t
it?”

    The old woman reached out for him, caressing
his cheek with one hand while running her fingers through his hair
with the other.

    “Chuckie,” she crowed.

    She smelled strongly of mildew and the
vaguely unpleasant medicinal scent of old people. Geoffrey recoiled
at her touch but remained glued to the wall.

    “How did I get here?” asked Geoffrey.

    “You remember that second job I mentioned
last night?”

    Geoffrey nodded while the old woman stared
longingly up at him, her fingers tracing the line of his chin.

    “I’m a cab driver in the city. Well, as fate
would have it, you happened into my cab last night. My cab! Of all
the cabs you could have hopped into, you picked mine. I still can’t
get over it.”

    Geoffrey put a hand on a grimy kitchen
counter, a bout of dizziness setting in.

    “Well, you passed right out in the back
seat. So I brought you home with me, and put you up here in the
penthouse suite of the Floyd Palace.”

    Floyd’s explanation instantly put Geoffrey’s
mind at ease. His pulse slowed and the trepidation he had felt
morphed into relief and quickly into annoyance. He shoved the old
woman’s hand aside and as she reached forward for his face again,
he swatted it aside as if she was a bothersome gnat.

    “Yeah, well I’d appreciate it if you’d give
me a ride back home. How does a hundred bucks sound?”

    The old man angrily clanked his spoon on his
bowl of oatmeal and sat back in his rusted metal folding chair.

    “You’d appreciate it? You don’t appreciate a
damn thing, son,” said the old man. “A hundred bucks sounds like
shit. You cost me a job and embarrassed me in front of a bar full
of people.”

    “Oh come on now, old timer. Floyd, isn’t it?
Come on, Floyd. I was drunk! I didn’t mean what I said!”

    Geoffrey reached mindlessly for his wallet,
first checking his pants and then his coat pockets. His wallet was
missing.

    “How about a thousand bucks? I feel bad for
costing you the job, how about a thousand bucks for a ride back to
my house? I – I can’t find my wallet but I’ll pay you once I get to
my house, I promise.”

    “How about you shut your fuckin’ mouth
unless I ask you to talk?” said the old man. He rose from his
chair, his eyes narrowed in anger.

    Geoffrey held both arms out defensively.
“Calm down, calm down! How about I just borrow your phone and call
somebody to pick me up? Better yet, just point me in the right
direction and I’ll walk home. I appreciate everything you’ve
done…”

    “Appreciate?” the old man cut in. “You
probably haven’t used that word twice in your life and yet you’ve
used it twice in the last thirty seconds! Did I hear you correctly
or do I need to turn my hearing aids up?” He took a step closer,
his wrinkled forehead furled.

    “I need to be put out to pasture, right? You
recall saying that, don’t ya?” said the old man. He took another
step forward, his infuriated face transforming to one of insanity.
Geoffrey felt threatened, an irrational feeling considering the
fact Floyd and his wife were in their 70’s. Still, he had no desire
for a physical confrontation. He scanned the room for an exit and
noticed a dark, narrow hallway to his right.

    The old man closed his eyes and at the top
of his lungs shouted, “You pompous sonofabitch!”

    Geoffrey bolted for the hallway. He’d find a
door that would let him out of this madhouse and he’d hoof it home.
He sprinted down the corridor with the old man still yelling in the
background. A split second too late, Geoffrey registered what the
old man was yelling.

    “He’s comin’ boys!”

    As Geoffrey rounded the corner