Huck and Billy
Huck and Billy
Badboy
James Medley
James Medley
$3.95
FOREWORD
Huck and I weren’t too successful in the sleaze bars. We operated mostly out of The Sterling Club and The Mint, two upscale places. Though the clientele often overlapped between the down-and-dirty bars and their more elegant counterparts, generally these places attracted a better class of guys. And they had money, which we were getting low on after three weeks. The French Quarter is like a small town, a closed community, plopped down in the middle of a fairly large city. After our first week there, we knew the guys who worked at The Clover Grill and all the regular bartenders, the mailman, people in the small markets, most of our neighbors. People said hello to you on the street.
On a lark one night, Huck and I went into one of those tourist photography shops and had our pictures taken in old-fashioned clothes. We stuck each other’s photos in our wallets.
Huck scored big with a banker who wanted to keep him. I was gratified when Huck turned him down.
“Never fall in love with a hustler,” Huck said.
“That’s what I told him.”
I didn’t say anything, but figured he was right. We’d gotten to know some of the other guys who hustled and found it was like a loosely knit fraternity. So I understood what Huck meant. I knew how most of the boys didn’t really care for anyone. There weren’t any hard feelings among the regulars if one boy was chosen over another. One of these boys always sticks in my mind…
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