I would be running around
Kingston Mines with a tray full of liquor, deftly dodging the hundreds of people crowding the aisles, taking a stolen moment here and there to do a shot with one of my admirers and accept the $10 bill he slides into my pocket. Within this time frame I could easily down 9 or 10 shots of cuervo. I would be getting sloshed but make the majority of my cash for the evening, regardless.
Billy Branch and the
Chi-Town Hustlers throw down with the best, most hard hitting sets they save for the late night crowd.
Mike Dangeroux starts pulling out all his erotic shit; he shreds his guitar with his tongue and looks suggestively at the fat women in the front tables, they swoon and fill his tip jar to the bursting point.
The business men in town for conventions and enjoying themselves on their company credit card accounts have thrown all caution to the wind by this time, falling down drunk in the aisles but still demanding one more
long island. Suckers, don't think I'm flirting with you because I'm actually interested, you're paying my god damn rent in one night.
Once 2:00 rolls around, all the
industry people come filing in. They knowingly fill the spots at the bars and the back of the sections where their good friends are working and share stories of the work night amidst the chaos. More free shots for me, more schmoozing, more money.
Bargain Bill and his hookers are in the back of the north room, working it.
Leroy Brown is seated at the head of his usual dark booth, making on a killing sellin packets of coke to his legions of loyal custies.
MC Frank belts out his final announcements and everyone makes one more mad, frantic attempt to get one more order in. I purposely focus on only the customers I happen to like; I have already made enough money for one night. At the stroke of 4:00 it all ends, and 4:01 can find us sitting at the main bar as
Nancy wipes it down, exhausted and pleased with our pull for the evening, although we may feign exasperation.