Kisa’d had a few last minute things to tend to at the studio. So, lunch wound up being changed to an early dinner. Keith came up out of the subway, squinting against what was still a fairly well lit day.
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Standing in the middle of the floor, it took a moment for Lesli to recover from Keith ordering her out of his apartment. She cocked her head to one side, looking at him curiously. “I’m not walking out of here in the same clothes.
“Uh,” Keith asked, “you want something from the fridge?” Already heading to the kitchen. “Anything cold. Thanks.” He got her a can of ginger ale, grabbed himself a beer.
Keith staggered into the lobby of his apartment building looking like death warmed over. Jesse’s sub was on duty at the reception desk. A disagreeable blue-eyed blonde, Germanic as best he could tell, chiseled cheekbones, legs nearly up to her neck.
By Charles Hallman
Abdul “Duke” Fakir, the sole surviving original member of the Four Tops, recently was honored as a “Living Legend.” St. Peter’s AME Church in South Minneapolis on February 23 honored Fakir during its first annual Living Legend Sunday morning service. Born in Detroit in 1935, Fakir later met Lawrence Payton, Renaldo “Obie” Benson and Levi Stubbs in high school, and together they formed a singing group in 1954.
Lesli briefly froze, going through a few mental clicks to make sense of Keith’s remark. Then fell out laughing, pitching forward, blouse bulging. Finally she collapsed, spilling from her chair to the floor.
He didn’t know what else to do except say, “You look great.” Of course, she looks great, stupid. Could you be anymore lame? He forced himself not to look around in anticipation of that man who’d answered her phone stepping up next to Lesli, sliding an arm around that slender waist, settling a palm on that shapely hip.
Keith showed up at the stage door and, despite that he carried a guitar case, the guard wouldn’t let him in. Anybody, after all, could come bopping up with an instrument trying to get in, and Brenda, in her frenzy, forgot to put him on the guest list. He went around front and couldn’t even pay to get in.
Name the subject — any subject — and Dwight Hobbes will have something unique to say about it. After his writing appeared over the years in such publications as Reader’s Digest, Mpls/St. Paul Magazine, Essence and the MSR, Hobbes finally relented after being oft-asked when he’d write a book.
Keith went back to his crib. Grabbing the phone, giving Butch and Sundance a wink, he rang Lesli’s number. A man’s voice answered.