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Connecticut!
” he squealed with delight when he got a load of me, while his tight purple pants seemed to be getting a load of him. “What can I do for you , baby.”
    “I need a job,” I said cutting right to the chase.
    “Why? Is money too tight to mention?”
    “Absolutely,” I told him while somehow missing the redheaded rocker reference.
    “You don’t recognize me, sweetie,
do
you?”
    “No,” I said as I hadn’t a clue who she was...I mean—who
he
was.
    “Oh baby
pa- lease
don’t tell me that or I do declare
—you’ll hurt my fragile little feelings
,” he said while suddenly doing his best southern belle.
    “Hey, tone it down there, Dorothy—you’re not in Kansas anymore,” said someone with a very familiar-sounding voice that I hadn’t noticed standing behind the bar.
    “Randy!” I shouted with real happiness the moment I saw him and then reached out to once again shake that big, gay, hand from California that I’d first encountered at Serendipity so many years before. “I can’t fucking believe it! How’s everything going?”
    “Not bad, man, not bad.”
    “What the hell are you doing in Stamford?”
    “I don’t know—taking a breath?” he said as if he wasn’t entirely sure. “Things were getting a little crazy back there with the partying and shit and I had to get out of the city. So, a few months ago when I got the opportunity to come out here and open this place I figured what-the-fuck? What about you?”
    “WHAT ABOUT ME ?!?” squealed purple pants. “You still don’t remember
me
?”
    “I’m sorry, brother,” I said. “Did you work at Serendipity as well?”
    “No I did not work at fucking Serendipity!”
    “Craig, this is Jack—come on, man, you remember him—
don’t you
?”
    “Hanging out and getting high at the apartment while you were listening to Concrete Blonde and playing the synthesizer like a fucking psycho,” Jack said as he successfully refreshed my memory.
    “Oh yeah, man, of course—how could I fucking forget?” I said. “I’m sorry. But you guys know I was really fucked-up then—which is why I also ended up in Stamford…
sort of
.”
    “Oh, come now!” Jack said as he dismissed my flimsy excuse and preferred to remain offended. “I’ll have you know this face is
entirely
unforgettable!”
    “It most certainly is…except when it’s covered by Randy’s nuts—so cut me some fucking slack, alright?”
    “Hey, you know, we have to kinda keep that talk to a minimum around here,” Randy told me.
    “What? No fucking F-bombs?”
    “That would be fucking impossible,” Jack pointed out.
    “No gay chatter or overly homosexual behavior in the restaurant,” explained Randy.
    “Why not? Are you guys suddenly stuck in the closet?”
    “Oh
pa- lease
!” Jack squealed. “The only thing stuck in
my
closet is a big black dong with a sloppy suction cup.”
    “Actually,” said Randy who bravely attempted to ignore the commentary, “the boss already knows we’re queer. Jack and I’ve been running the Bleecker Street bar for
years
.”
    “But this isn’t Bleecker Street,” I said.
    “Exactly, so we just have to try not to broadcast everything,” Randy said while briefly looking at Jack. “It really doesn’t even matter anymore because most of the staff and customers are pretty perceptive and it wasn’t too long before they basically realized we’re gay.”
    “Yes, Craig,” agreed Jack. “Just like it won’t be too long before they realize
you’re
gay.”
    “That’s until they see me bangin’ your mom on the bar.”
    “Oh wow…I am just so offended by my erection,” Jack said after a moment before scurrying away.
    So at least I had a job, and it was great to have a couple of old friends around as well. But this would be my first employment of any kind outside of New York, and although it was clear that Randy was making a concerted effort to put the serious partying aside, it would prove easier said than